The Prince of Powys Read Online Free PDF

and
    grabbed the hat off his wet head. “Your hair is matted. I can
    comb it for you.”
    “No.” Reaching out, he clutched the cap and puled it from her
    grasp. His scalp felt warm and tingly just from that contact alone, he couldn’t have her caressing it. To resist her charms he
    focused his mind on getting the Mercian Princess to Dinas Bran
    before she figured out his plan and tried to escape.
    He stood and pointed his hand toward the crooked tree. “I
    wil gather elderberries yonder so you can eat, then we ride.
    Either Ethelbald or Cuthred wil folow our trail.”
    She arched her brows. “We are in Caledonia?”
    “Yes,. We rode north, remember? Where else could we be?”
    Powys is where we are, silly goose, not Caledonia. Why
    would I go there? “Rest. I wil return with this Saxon hat ful of elderberries.”
    Clutching the funny woolen cap, Blaise walked off into the
    high grass, slowly inhaling the fresh air, sweet with the scent of flowering heather. He plucked plump black berries from the vine.
    An eagle soared overhead, emitting a lucid, strong caw which
    sounded like, “Home, home.” Was it the eagle that returned each
    year to nest in the wooden palisades atop Dinas Bran?
    “Fly on,” he caled out to the majestic bird. “Soon I shal soar
    up the steep rock to the ancient, iron-age hil fort on top of the
    high mountain, amidst the clouds.”
    Blaise made his way back to the Princess. Even with tousled
    hair, a scowl of hunger on her face, and her usual sparkling eyes
    now a bit puffy and pale from exhaustion, she radiated a beauty
    and vitality that drew him like a lodestone. “Here, eat.”
    Scooping her fingers into the Saxon cap ful of dark berries,
    Scooping her fingers into the Saxon cap ful of dark berries,
    she shoved a handful into her mouth. She chewed fast, almost
    choking. Juice dribbled down her lips, and her palms were
    splashed with indigo from the elderberries.
    “Slow down. I can get more.”
    “I’m starving. I didn’t eat wel last night. I had no wont of
    food while I sat next to Cuthred.”
    Her every word made him laugh. She distrusted the King of
    Wessex, yet she put her trust in a Welsh hostage to take her to
    Caledonia. She had much to learn. Life in Mercia had been too
    easy for her.
    Stil, he couldn’t tear his gaze from her, the glow of her skin
    and the sheen of her hair. His palms burned with the urge to
    touch her. The sooner he put her into his father’s care the better.
    He needed to ride.
    “It’s time we were off. We have a long way to go.” He helped
    her mount the horse and vaulted up behind her.
    As they rode pilion through Wales from the moors to the
    foothils, her warm, smooth back pressed against his chest,
    Blaise breathed in the fresh-heather scent of her hair. Absently,
    he reached down and puled out a twig hanging in her golden
    mane and then swept his fingers through the silky strands.
    She leaned her neck back and met his gaze. “Why did you not
    want me to comb your hair?”
    “I comb my own hair.”
    “I like the hue of it. It is different.”
    As she spoke, the soft pink shade of her curled lips captured
    his gaze. He blinked his eyes, trying to diminish his longing to
    press a kiss against her tempting mouth.
    “It‘s why they cal me Blaise.”
    “Did your mother name you?”
    “No, she died in child-bed. My father named me Bleheris, to
    cal me Blaise by the hue of my hair. The lime wash lightens it to
    a reddish blonde, but it’s naturaly flame red.”
    “Lime wash?”
    “Yes, it makes it thick as a hedgehog’s hide.”
    She laughed.
    He liked that. It sounded like tinkling music.
    Her voice took on a tinge of sadness. “I’m sorry your mother
    died. Mine did as wel.”
    “This I did not know.”
    “This I did not know.”
    She nodded her head. “My sire named me as wel. Branda
    means sword. Weapons and war are al my father knows, so
    that was what he named me.” She chortled.
    “It’s a comely name.” The sister she spoke