The Witch and The Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page B

demanded, suddenly nervous.
    â€œYou are going to repair the damage your father’s men have done to us,” Alex informed her.
    â€œI won’t!” she protested as Brodick cut the ropes binding her to Gwendolyn.
    â€œForgive me, sweet Bella, but you would be wise to do as MacDunn says,” Brodick advised, pulling Isabella across the clearing. “And after you’ve finished, I’ve a scratch to my arm that needs tending as well.”
    â€œAnd I’ve a split in my scalp,” added Cameron.
    â€œI won’t help you!” she raged. “I hope each of you bleeds to death from your injuries, you vile, thieving, murdering scum!”
    Alex stripped off his shirt, revealing a pulsing slash across his upper chest. “You will fix this,” he commanded. “Now.”
    Isabella took one look at the blood dripping down his torso and promptly fainted.
    Cameron roared with laughter. “It seems the lass’s tongue is stronger than her stomach!”
    â€œShe is tired,” protested Brodick, gently gathering Isabella’s crumpled form in his arms. “She has had an exhausting day.” He carried her across the clearing and lowered her onto a bed of moss.
    Alex shook his head in disgust. “Very well, then, witch,” he said, eyeing Gwendolyn. “Now is your chance to demonstrate your special healing powers.”
    Gwendolyn stepped forward, her mind racing. Where had MacDunn gotten the idea that she had healing powers? While her mother had been a skilled healer, Gwendolyn’s father had forbidden Gwendolyn to practice the art, for fear it would draw attention to her, and give someone reason to accuse her of possessing unnatural abilities. Although she had understood her father’s concern, Gwendolyn had secretly spent many hours studying her mother’s carefully scribed notes. While she had found these studies fascinating, she had never actually practiced her mother’s techniques on anyone. How on earth was she supposed to tend to a battle wound?
    â€œIf you walk any slower, I’ll be dead before you get to me,” MacDunn complained dryly, as he lowered himself to the ground.
    â€œForgive me,” Gwendolyn said, hastening her step.
    She knelt down beside him and bit her lip. A gash as long as the span of her hand sliced across the hard muscle of his upper chest. Blood was leaking profusely from the cut and seeping down his front, making it look as if he had been hacked wide open.
    â€œI think it looks worse than it is,” she murmured, more to reassure herself than him. She gingerly touched the raw edges of the wound, trying to establish its depth. Blood spurted from the opening. She jerked back her hand.
    â€œIt needs to be stitched,” MacDunn told her.
    She nodded.
    He regarded her expectantly. “Go ahead.”
    Gwendolyn frantically tried to recall her mother’s instructions on closing wounds. She herself had never stitched anything beyond garments, but surely the principle was the same. Except this, of course, would be messier.
    â€œI will need more light,” she decided, tentatively daubing the wound with MacDunn’s discarded shirt. “Do you think it is safe to build a fire?”
    â€œThe warriors Robert brought with him are dead,” MacDunn replied. “A fire will not matter now.” He signaled to Ned, who promptly began to toss sticks into a pile.
    â€œIs Robert also dead?”
    Her voice was flat, but Alex could sense a flicker of desperation behind her inquiry. “No,” he admitted, feeling oddly as if he had failed her. “He is not. But he cannot hurt you,” he added, wanting to reassure her. “You belong to me now. I protect what is mine.”
    His expression was deadly serious. Gwendolyn stared at him a moment, contemplating the power emanating from him even as he lay there bleeding. She had no doubt he believed what he said. But the stench of flames still