Trouble with a Highland Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

him.
    He heard the door open and he struggled to stand. He would face death, torture, or whatever they planned for him with the courage and reserve of an Englishman. When the lovely Gwyn Campbell slipped inside the wooden door, his relief was palpable. He took a shaky breath. He was resolved to meet his fate with courage, but he would so much rather talk to a pretty young thing, even if she was a Scot.
    She approached cautiously, though there was nothing of timidity about her. Her green eyes shone bright and her long, blond hair was simply dressed in two long plaits. She wore no veil, though her body showed her to be of age. She was clearly young and perhaps had not yet taken up the veil. Her green kirtle matched the color of her eyes and hugged her shapely body. Jack closed his eyes to stop the direction of his thoughts. This was how he had gotten himself into trouble in the first place.
    “Greetings, milady.” He stepped closer, forgetting his injury. He winced as pain shot through his foot up his leg. He grabbed on to the gate to keep from falling and managed to slide down the stone wall slowly to a seated position on the ground without falling over or hollering in pain, but he still felt the fool.
    “What is wrong?” Gwyn rushed toward him, though careful this time not to get within arm’s reach. “Are ye hurt? Is that blood?”
    He was bleeding through his boot, but had hoped not to call attention to his injury. This was not the time to show weakness. “Was that not your plan, to injure me?” He closed his eyes to fight a wave of nausea. His foot was paining him something awful.
    “I did try to kill ye, I fear. But I dinna ken I cut ye.” She crouched down to see him better. “How have I hurt ye?”
    “Not you. I hurt myself.” He tried to give her a smile but feared it came across as more of a grimace. “I stepped on one of my own caltrops.”
    “Caltrops! Ye were dropping those vicious things outside our door?” Gwyn rolled back on her heels and stood up, her momentary sympathy assuaged.
    “Yes. It was a poor choice,” he admitted.
    “Do ye mean to tell me there are more caltrops out there to maim unsuspecting folk, friend and foe alike?” Gwyn folded her arms across her and glared down at him, the softness in her eyes gone.
    “Yes, and so far the only one I have injured is myself. Since I have been the only one to be afflicted, perhaps you will consider me well punished of my own accord.”
    The corner of her mouth twitched up. “I will agree only that ye have gotten what ye deserve.”
    “I would never disagree with such a fair lady.” When in doubt, flatter. And yet he did not have to stretch the truth to say he found her attractive. In truth, he wished she had been more hag-like in order to retain cogent thought when she was near.
    Gwyn shook her head and crouched down once more to look at the extent of the damage. “There is a good deal o’ blood here. Ye need to get this wound dressed.”
    “It will not matter much once your brother comes and the torture begins.” Jack had spent too much time with his uncles not to have a firm understanding of how the real world worked. It was not pretty—much unlike the sweet thing before him.
    “Ye think my brother would torture ye?”
    “I believe he will treat me to the same hospitality that my uncles would show him if the situation was reversed.”
    “Then yer uncles need a lesson in hospitality. And we Highland Scots will have to give it to ye.” Gwyn had fire in her eyes in a manner most becoming. If she could prevent him from being hurt or killed, her value in his estimation would raise even higher.
    “I would be most obliged to be taught this lesson in hospitality.”
    “Well then.” Gwyn wiped her hands on her kirtle in a direct manner. “Let me inspect yer wound and dress it.”
    “You would provide me aid?”
    Gwyn gave him a critical appraisal, leaving him to wonder if he met her approval. He would feel more a man if he could