Read Online Desired by Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Novel) by Cynthia Luhrs - Free Book Online
Authors: Cynthia Luhrs
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feet.
Catching her as she fell, the corner of his lip twitched. Now this he was used to—women falling at his feet. Warm in his arms, he laid her on the bed and placed his hand on her forehead. She was burning up.
“Cold water. Now.” Barking out orders, he sent his men scurrying to do his bidding.
The men left as Robert undressed her. What was her name? Who was she? When he removed her hoodie he noticed the tear in the shoulder. Looking at her tee shirt he noted the blood. He’d missed it on her dirty, stained sweatshirt. The blood blended in with the grime coating the filthy garment. Lifting her up to remove the hoodie, unconscious, limp in his arms, it was like undressing a dead man.
The bra and panties she wore were basic white and dingy. No lace, silk or satin for this one. Strange, he never thought he’d find such utilitarian undergarments sexy but on her, he had a hard-on looking at her. The mystery woman was all lush curves with bountiful breasts a small waist and wide hips like some ancient fertility goddess. Women’s bodies were a majestic sight. Telling himself it was wrong to lust over her when she was unconscious, he threw the clothing in a pile to be burned. It stunk so badly, the smell would never come out in the wash. A skunk would run from this stench. The bed sheets would have to be burned as well. But first he had to tend the wound.
In the past he’d had to throw out bed coverings after they’d been ripped to shreds during lovemaking but never from someone stinking them up. The corner of his mouth lifted and a chuckle escaped thinking how horrified she’d be to know he thought she smelled, women were funny that way.
Robert covered her with a sheet. Stink and all, he wanted to know her name, her thoughts, why she’d helped him. Shelving the thoughts for another time—wasn’t like he could bloody well ask her, he bent back to her injuries.
Leaning down to inspect her shoulder, he stiffened. The wound was about six inches long, and bleeding profusely. A knife wound from the looks of it.
Bellowing for his cabin boy, Ian came running, breathless as he waited for Robert’s orders. “Bring me bandages and salve from the infirmary.”
The woman’s face was clenched in pain. The circles under her eyes standing out like hard-won bruises. Pouring a whisky, knocking it back, he rested his chin on his palms, elbows digging into his knees, deciding what to do with her. Still angry she’d interfered, his chivalrous self warred with his hedonistic, selfish side. The wench didn’t know she was doing the worst possible thing for him by cutting the rope. She thought she was saving his life when in fact she’d ruined it as far as he was concerned. Gods, he loved women, but the repercussions from this simple altruistic act were bigger than any foe he’d ever come up against. Robert cursed, kicking a booted foot into the bedpost.
What was he to do? Backed up against the wall, the enemy was advancing with nowhere to turn. If he climbed the wall to escape, he’d turn wraith in a week. That wouldn’t do at all. The world would keep changing and he planned to live forever, watching it, enjoying the immortal life. Fighting, drinking, gold…and women. What else was there?
If he stood and fought, he’d have to figure out how to break his bloody curse. Couldn’t deny he felt a pull but whether it was fate or his normal love of all women or something more disturbing, he didn’t know.
There’d been countless ladies over the years, he’d lost count of how many women he’d loved for a night or a few weeks. But never had he spent more than a few months with one woman. Yes, Colin and Emily had found each other, broken Colin’s curse but he didn’t believe it would happen again so soon. It’d only been a year.
All the Shadow Walkers were talking about what had happened. None of them would presume another of them might be saved or damned, depending on how you looked at it.
Blowing out a frustrated
Catching her as she fell, the corner of his lip twitched. Now this he was used to—women falling at his feet. Warm in his arms, he laid her on the bed and placed his hand on her forehead. She was burning up.
“Cold water. Now.” Barking out orders, he sent his men scurrying to do his bidding.
The men left as Robert undressed her. What was her name? Who was she? When he removed her hoodie he noticed the tear in the shoulder. Looking at her tee shirt he noted the blood. He’d missed it on her dirty, stained sweatshirt. The blood blended in with the grime coating the filthy garment. Lifting her up to remove the hoodie, unconscious, limp in his arms, it was like undressing a dead man.
The bra and panties she wore were basic white and dingy. No lace, silk or satin for this one. Strange, he never thought he’d find such utilitarian undergarments sexy but on her, he had a hard-on looking at her. The mystery woman was all lush curves with bountiful breasts a small waist and wide hips like some ancient fertility goddess. Women’s bodies were a majestic sight. Telling himself it was wrong to lust over her when she was unconscious, he threw the clothing in a pile to be burned. It stunk so badly, the smell would never come out in the wash. A skunk would run from this stench. The bed sheets would have to be burned as well. But first he had to tend the wound.
In the past he’d had to throw out bed coverings after they’d been ripped to shreds during lovemaking but never from someone stinking them up. The corner of his mouth lifted and a chuckle escaped thinking how horrified she’d be to know he thought she smelled, women were funny that way.
Robert covered her with a sheet. Stink and all, he wanted to know her name, her thoughts, why she’d helped him. Shelving the thoughts for another time—wasn’t like he could bloody well ask her, he bent back to her injuries.
Leaning down to inspect her shoulder, he stiffened. The wound was about six inches long, and bleeding profusely. A knife wound from the looks of it.
Bellowing for his cabin boy, Ian came running, breathless as he waited for Robert’s orders. “Bring me bandages and salve from the infirmary.”
The woman’s face was clenched in pain. The circles under her eyes standing out like hard-won bruises. Pouring a whisky, knocking it back, he rested his chin on his palms, elbows digging into his knees, deciding what to do with her. Still angry she’d interfered, his chivalrous self warred with his hedonistic, selfish side. The wench didn’t know she was doing the worst possible thing for him by cutting the rope. She thought she was saving his life when in fact she’d ruined it as far as he was concerned. Gods, he loved women, but the repercussions from this simple altruistic act were bigger than any foe he’d ever come up against. Robert cursed, kicking a booted foot into the bedpost.
What was he to do? Backed up against the wall, the enemy was advancing with nowhere to turn. If he climbed the wall to escape, he’d turn wraith in a week. That wouldn’t do at all. The world would keep changing and he planned to live forever, watching it, enjoying the immortal life. Fighting, drinking, gold…and women. What else was there?
If he stood and fought, he’d have to figure out how to break his bloody curse. Couldn’t deny he felt a pull but whether it was fate or his normal love of all women or something more disturbing, he didn’t know.
There’d been countless ladies over the years, he’d lost count of how many women he’d loved for a night or a few weeks. But never had he spent more than a few months with one woman. Yes, Colin and Emily had found each other, broken Colin’s curse but he didn’t believe it would happen again so soon. It’d only been a year.
All the Shadow Walkers were talking about what had happened. None of them would presume another of them might be saved or damned, depending on how you looked at it.
Blowing out a frustrated
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