Read Online Charming the Chieftain by Deanie Roman - Free Book Online Page A

shriek, but the words were locked inside her throat. The oaf had been right about one thing. There were worse positions to be in.
    “Put me down this instant.”
    She smacked her palm against his back though it made as much impression as a lone rock tossed into a gravel pit. He hiked her farther onto his shoulder and she tried to slither through his arm deciding she’d risk the fall — at least she’d be on the ground. To her mortification, she became conscious of his ear flush against her cheek bottom. Her degradation complete, she gave up the struggle. Once he dumped her atop a mound of spongy moss, he gathered her scattered garments, and tossed them in her general direction.
    “Clothe yourself, woman,” he ordered gruffly, about to turn away from her.
    In disbelief over his treatment of her, she gripped the linen blouse to her breasts and bit out, “You dare to subject me to such despicable act after I nursed you back from the veil of death?”
    A flash of something unfathomable in Aeden’s sky-blue eyes stayed her tongue. She stared up at him from beneath a wall of sodden hair sprawled in a puddle of water. After a few tense moments, he leveled a look at her. “Woman, I suggest you make haste.”
    Frustrated, she stuck her tongue out at him.
    A grin creased his cheeks as he bent over, retrieved her plaid, draped it around her shoulders and retreated. She pulled on her clothes and wrung out her hair having no idea what to think. Disarmed and discomfited, she scooped up her belt and cinched it tight around her waist wishing it were his neck. Befuddled, she exhaled a defeated breath. The peculiar jumble of reactions he drew from her upset her ordered mind.
    “And this is the thanks I am to expect for saving his wretched hide,” she grumbled to the sky.
    Dressed, she had no choice except to join the insensitive lout.
    • • •
    Aeden scrubbed a hand over his ear in a bid to rid himself of her touch. The impression of her soft, naked bottom against his skin roused a depth of desire he had no idea existed. His behavior toward her was more about self-preservation than her eventual embarrassment. She came up from behind, her peeved mutterings punctuated by noisy footfalls as she stomped over to him. It seemed her ire might take some time to wane. Better her anger than tears, he reasoned to himself. Anger, he understood.
    “Come, you’ve wasted enough time with your stubbornness.”
    He lips thinned and she planted her hands on her hips. “Ha, ’tis rich coming from a man who epitomizes the very word.”
    Although his eyes narrowed, he allowed the insult to pass.
    He noticed her shiver. Gratified that she finally understood her precarious position, he watched while she plucked a thick stick from a yew tree and jabbed it into the ground.
    “Dare I ask what significance this holds?”
    She ignored his sarcastic drawl and answered, “I believe there may be evil afoot.”
    He crossed his arms and shook his head. “Just how many encounters with evil do you claim in a day?”
    “Hardly ever, until I took up with you.”
    His brows arched at her odd choice of words yet he let the remark pass since she started to chant. He sighed. At least she refrained from the spinning.
    Finished, she grabbed the stick and snapped it in half over her raised knee.
    “Goodness, I had no idea the Lowlands were so riddled with restless spirits.” Deep in thought, she chewed her bottom lip.
    “Restless? I thought they were evil. So, which is it, lass?”
    He really shouldn’t bait her, but it seemed he retained little self-control where she was concerned. Besides, her responses always intrigued him.
    “Why, evil of course, what other uses have I for a yew stick?”
    Engrossed by her own question, she ticked off an invisible list on her fingers.
    “The only other use is to lay it across the threshold of a house plagued by bad luck, or, one might bury it in the back garden to keep stoats at bay.”
    “True, though there is another