The Rose and The Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page A

yours out a bit before Lewis unties them, laddie,” Magnus said, blithely polishing his arrow with his plaid. “Ye’d not want to accidentally kick poor Lewis, now, would ye?”
    Donald managed to look credibly affronted. “Good Lord, Magnus, what kind of a warrior do you take me for?”
    â€œForgive me, lad,” he apologized. “ ’Tis just that ye’re a MacTier, and as such we have to be extra careful.”
    Roarke kept his expression indifferent, but inside he felt a stab of admiration. Clearly Magnus was not quite as naive as he appeared.
    â€œThat’ll be Colin and Melantha,” Magnus said, returning his attention to his arrow.
    Roarke scanned the surrounding woods. He strained to hear, but could not detect the faintest crush of a twig or the rustle of branches to signal that someone was coming.
    â€œYou’re mistaken, Magnus. There’s no one there—”
    â€œGood hunting?” asked Magnus as Colin and Melantha suddenly emerged through the trees.
    Colin tossed a coarse brown sack onto the ground. “A few skinny rabbits and some small birds. If they’re made into stew and stretched with some vegetables, they should last a while.”
    â€œThat sounds absolutely wonderful,” said Donald, returning to the clearing with Finlay. “But please, don’t trouble yourself making a stew—roasted on a spit will do just fine.”
    â€œThey aren’t for you,” Colin snarled.
    â€œAre we not to be fed, then?” enquired Roarke mildly.
    Finlay snorted in disgust. “You came here to kill us, and now you expect to have your bellies filled?”
    â€œStarve me if it pleases you,” returned Roarke, “but at least feed my men. They have not eaten for nearly a day.”
    Melantha tossed him a look of contempt. “A day without food is nothing. Your men are strong and can easily endure it.”
    Golden petals of sunlight had filtered into the clearing, and as they flickered across her fury-clenched face Roarke was suddenly struck by the pale fragility of her. Melantha’s shapeless chain mail and leggings effectively concealed the curves of her body, but Roarke did not need to see her waist or hips to know that this girl was intimately acquainted with the hollow ache of hunger. Last night in the soft glow of the fire her cheeks had seemed high and elegantly sculpted, but in the harsher light of day her beauty was revealed to be a little too lean. Her cheeks and jaw bore the sharply cut contours of deprivation, and the delicate skin beneath her dark eyes was shadowed by sleeplessness and months of insufficient nourishment.
    â€œWell, now, I’m not sure ’tis a good idea not to feed these big brutes,” interjected Magnus. “After all, we don’t want them fallin’ ill.”
    â€œMagnus is right,” relented Colin. “I suppose if we’re not going to kill them, we have to feed them.”
    â€œFine,” Melantha snapped, turning away. “Feed them something—but not the meat.”
    â€œOatcakes all round, then,” declared Magnus brightly, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “Lewis, fetch some from yer bag and give them to our prisoners.”
    Lewis obediently went to his horse and retrieved a worn leather satchel from which he produced a number of hard, lumpy biscuits. Scurrying about like a skittish hare, he somehow managed to distribute them among Roarke, Donald, and Myles. But as he approached Eric, the gigantic blond warrior gave him a murderous scowl, causing poor Lewis to stop dead in his tracks.
    â€œKeep your food,” Eric growled.
    Roarke sighed. “Just eat it, Eric.”
    Eric adamantly shook his head. “The biscuits are poisoned. In a moment you’ll be screaming in agony as your guts boil up into your mouths.”
    Donald and Myles stopped chewing and stared at their half-eaten oatcakes in dismay.
    â€œGood God,