The Warrior Bride Read Online Free PDF

toward Hunter, but she was already unstringing her bow and setting it back in place behind her leather-clad thigh. Throwing a leg over her pommel, she jumped to the ground and pulled a dagger from the top of her tall boot.
    He dismounted as well, drawn to the hare. And as he approached it, one singular fact made itself clear. It had been pierced directly through the heart.
    “A fine shot,” he said, and she turned abruptly toward him.
    “Why do you follow me?”
    Her fist, he noticed, was wrapped tight and hard about the hilt of her knife, and the blade was surprisingly close to his chest. He glanced at it, cleared his throat and found her eyes. “Because I owe you?” He had meant to growl back, but the image of her breasts gleaming in the moonlight had somehow unmanned him. Although he was gifted at many things, he had never been particularly adept where women were concerned.
    “You do not owe me,” she hissed. “Aye. I-”
    “I absolve you of the debt.”
    He remained silent for a moment. “Where are you bound, me I-”
    “And I am not your lady!”
    “Then what shall I call you?”
    “Do not call me. Leave me be.”
    “I cannot,” he said simply.
    “You cannot.” Her voice was low and quiet. “And why is that?”
    “Because you saved me life.”
    “Aye,” she agreed, “but just yesterday you were willing to forget the debt.”
    “All was different then.”
    “Naught was different-”
    “You were a man.”
    “Me sex makes no difference,” she said, and turned abruptly away. “Indeed,” she added, “if you are wise you will forget what you saw at the water’s edge.”
    He didn’t mean to do it, but somehow he snorted, and in an instant she had pivoted back around. Her knife was up again, and her teeth were gritted.
    “You have something to say, MacGowan?”
    Perhaps he should not, but in fact, he did. “Aye,” he said, and glanced down at her. She was not a small lass, but neither was she huge, standing several inches beneath his own height.
    ”And what, pray tell, is it?” She gritted the question between her teeth. Nice teeth, he thought. Straight and white.
    He shrugged slightly. ”The truth is this, lass-wise or foolish, I shall never forget the sight of you.”
    She was utterly silent as she stared at him. Beneath the shadow of her dark helmet, he could not quite decipher her expression, but finally she spoke, her voice soft with just a hint of the femininity he had inadvertently discovered. “Why?”
    Because she was beautiful. The realization surprised even him, for he had never gotten a good look at her face. In fact, until last night, he had never cared to.
    “It is something that a man remembers.” he said simply. Silence again, then, “Why?”
    “Because you…” He motioned stiffly toward his own chest. “You were unclothed.”
    “I do not see why that should be so amazing. I assume even the notorious MacGowan rogues are unclothed from time to time.”
    “Aye,” he agreed. “But that is entirely different.”
    “We are not so different.” she said, and turned abruptly away.
    “Oh yes,” he argued and followed her through the underbrush as she retrieved the hare by her red-feathered arrow and strode off to her steed again. It felt quite strange discussing such a topic, but then, she was obviously a strange maid. “You can take me word on this, lass, we are completely different.”
    She stopped her mount in a small clearing and removed the bridle before facing Lachlan. The dark stallion ambled off, his saddle still in place. “Nay. Structurally, there is little difference between us.”
    “You jest.” He let his gaze dip to her chest, but it did him no good, for they were hidden well out of sight. It saddened him to think about it.
    “Aye.” she said, her stance stiff. “Little difference at all except for… a few small details.”
    “Small!” he snorted, then cleared his throat at her sharp expression. “Your pardon,” he said. “But if memory serves