Wild Angel Read Online Free PDF

my intent to
maim them. Their wounds were barely scratches. It was just enough to make them
go away."
    Ronan studied her, amazed. "And your father didn’t
object?"
    "Why should he? He respected my judgment."
    Now he’d heard just about enough, Ronan thought
angrily, exasperated by her flippant answers. Not one of his men was half as
wild. Her weapons had to go. And speaking of weapons . . .
    "How did you come to be so skilled with the bow?"
he asked, Triona immediately granting him a look of pure irritation.
    "Have you wax in your ears, O’Byrne? I already
told you, my father taught me."
    "But surely that is an unusual thing for a man to
allow his daughter, chieftain or no."
    "Mayhap, but it seemed to give him the balm he
needed after losing his only son. He had always loved to shoot targets with
Conor, to hunt, to fish." Triona noted that Ronan’s expression had
darkened, his grip on the reins very tight, but she continued on. "I hoped
it might cheer him—if I learned to shoot, and it did. By the time my mother saw
how good I’d become, it was too late."
    "Too late?"
    "Aye. I never had to embroider another stitch, or
bother learning about household things for that matter, and my father never
forced me. He would have lost his best hunting companion, he always said."
    Ronan made no comment to this last bit, his
tight-lipped silence vexing Triona.
    "Well, since we’re asking questions of each other,
what about you?" she demanded, her own curiosity getting the better of
her. "You said you have no wife and no children, yet surely a renowned
chieftain such as yourself has been offered many a pleasing bride."
    "I’ve no time for marriage," came his gruff answer as he looked away.
    "But if you don’t mind me saying so, Lord, ‘tis a
shame, is what it is," Aud interjected in disbelief. "A fine handsome
man like you."
    "Handsome, aye, but I’d wager that stern
expression you seem to favor has frightened away more than one maiden,"
Triona muttered loud enough for Ronan to hear. "If you think I’m not as I
used to be, O’Byrne, neither are you. I remember you always laughing, always smiling and telling tales. I remember the serving girls
fighting over which one would wait upon you, and how you would pull them onto
your lap and kiss—"
    "Then you were up far too late for your young age,"
Ronan cut her off, his stone gray eyes locking with hers. "People change,
Triona. Enough said."
    She stared back, momentarily silenced by the vehemence
of his voice and the haunted cast to his eyes. Strangely he looked younger at
that moment, as if the years had been stripped away, and she dropped her gaze
at the sudden tugging in her chest, her breath stilled in her throat.
    The sensation reminded her of when she used to watch
him from a knothole in the kitchen, her father’s hall resounding with
merriment. When she used to watch Ronan’s face, thinking him the most handsome
of men with his midnight brows, lean, strong features and that devil-may-care
smile. When she used to watch him kiss those giggling girls . . . knowing she
shouldn’t be there and yet unable to tear herself away, wishing that one day
when she was older, Ronan O’Byrne might be kissing her—
    "I said look to your mount, Triona. The path is
steep here."
    "W-what?" Flustered both by the turn of her
thoughts as well as not hearing Ronan’s warning the first time, she tightened
her grip on the reins, preventing Laeg from dancing sideways. As they began to
descend a sharp hill, the green wooded beauty of Glenmalure stretching out
before them, Triona was grateful that she had the rocky path to occupy her
attention until she regained her composure. A composure she resolved not to lose again.
    "We’ll be there soon," Ronan announced,
taking the lead when the path once more grew level.
    Gathering Maeve under one arm, Triona urged Laeg into a
trot and caught up with Ronan; from his surprised expression, she guessed that
he had expected her to stay behind with Aud. The