Read Online Hunter's Woman by Kaitlyn O'Connor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kaitlyn O'Connor
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her hand from Kale’s arm, but he caught it, holding her hand firmly in place.
“Lady Aslyn!” Lord Algar said warmly, though his smile was slightly forced, and the look in his eyes as he glanced between her and Kale was anything but warm. “As charming and as beautiful as ever, I see.”
It took an effort to refrain from glancing down self consciously at the horrid gown she was wearing. It was obvious from his speech and manners that he was accustomed to courtly flirtations. Perhaps he thought her ignorant enough to find his flamboyant compliments flattering, but, in point of fact, they had the opposite effect. It was as if he was taunting her and thought her too stupid to realize it. “Mistress Aslyn,” she corrected him stiffly.
He fell into step beside her, taking her free hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm. Aslyn gaped at him, tried unsuccessfully to pull away. She glanced at Kale, but he was staring at the road ahead of them, his expression stony.
“Out for an evening stroll, are we?”
“In point of fact, no,” Kale said succinctly.
“No?”
Amusement gleamed in Kale’s eyes briefly as he looked down at her. It vanished when he transferred his gaze to Algar. “Mistress Aslyn was leery of approaching the well with so many soldiers milling about.”
Aslyn glanced at him sharply, flushing when she realized she had not fooled him even for a moment. How embarrassing to think she’d gone through such an elaborate charade, and all for nothing!
Lord Algar’s brows rose. “Ever the gallant, eh, Kale? Rescuing damsels in distress.”
Kale slid a glance in his direction. “You may count upon it, Algar.”
Seeing that they were so intent upon challenge and counter challenge that she might just as well not exist save for being the ‘bone’ the two were snarling over, Aslyn snatched her hands free, turned and seized her pot from Kale’s other hand. “Thank you. Both of you. If you’ll excuse me now….”
She didn’t wait for a response from either man, or look at them again. For all that, she was acutely conscious of the fact that they took up positions on either side of her, leaning against the stone walls of the well, both men at great pains to appear oblivious to each other, each not so subtly continuing to issue challenge to the other. It grated on her nerves, but she did her best to focus upon scrubbing the cook pot. When she’d finished, she filled it once more.
Any thoughts she’d nurtured that she might slip away unhindered vanished immediately, however. Kale, who’d taken it upon himself to haul the buckets of water up as needed, filled the pot, wrested it from her grasp and held out his arm. While Aslyn was busy ignoring the hint, Lord Algar possessed himself of a hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. Surprised, Aslyn turned to glare at him, trying to pull her hand free, whereupon Kale took her free hand, tucked it in the crook of his arm, and gave her a tug.
Giving up the fight, Aslyn allowed them to escort her back to her cottage. She made no attempt at conversation, however, despite Lord Algar’s many attempts to prod her into intercourse. Kale remained silent. She wasn’t certain whether it was because that was typical of him, or if he was wise enough not to attempt the impossible. In any case, she felt like a prisoner— was a prisoner, however courtly their behavior appeared.
Did they fancy that they were courting her, she wondered a little wildly? But she decided she simply could not credit that. The rivalry between them was far older than their acquaintance and, she thought, far more complicated than a simple contest between two randy males for a chosen female.
She was certainly not flattered by the attention, whatever the case. She was more inclined to view it as a comedy of errors, wherein Kale had perceived Lord Algar’s interest as being more than it actually was and had set himself
“Lady Aslyn!” Lord Algar said warmly, though his smile was slightly forced, and the look in his eyes as he glanced between her and Kale was anything but warm. “As charming and as beautiful as ever, I see.”
It took an effort to refrain from glancing down self consciously at the horrid gown she was wearing. It was obvious from his speech and manners that he was accustomed to courtly flirtations. Perhaps he thought her ignorant enough to find his flamboyant compliments flattering, but, in point of fact, they had the opposite effect. It was as if he was taunting her and thought her too stupid to realize it. “Mistress Aslyn,” she corrected him stiffly.
He fell into step beside her, taking her free hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm. Aslyn gaped at him, tried unsuccessfully to pull away. She glanced at Kale, but he was staring at the road ahead of them, his expression stony.
“Out for an evening stroll, are we?”
“In point of fact, no,” Kale said succinctly.
“No?”
Amusement gleamed in Kale’s eyes briefly as he looked down at her. It vanished when he transferred his gaze to Algar. “Mistress Aslyn was leery of approaching the well with so many soldiers milling about.”
Aslyn glanced at him sharply, flushing when she realized she had not fooled him even for a moment. How embarrassing to think she’d gone through such an elaborate charade, and all for nothing!
Lord Algar’s brows rose. “Ever the gallant, eh, Kale? Rescuing damsels in distress.”
Kale slid a glance in his direction. “You may count upon it, Algar.”
Seeing that they were so intent upon challenge and counter challenge that she might just as well not exist save for being the ‘bone’ the two were snarling over, Aslyn snatched her hands free, turned and seized her pot from Kale’s other hand. “Thank you. Both of you. If you’ll excuse me now….”
She didn’t wait for a response from either man, or look at them again. For all that, she was acutely conscious of the fact that they took up positions on either side of her, leaning against the stone walls of the well, both men at great pains to appear oblivious to each other, each not so subtly continuing to issue challenge to the other. It grated on her nerves, but she did her best to focus upon scrubbing the cook pot. When she’d finished, she filled it once more.
Any thoughts she’d nurtured that she might slip away unhindered vanished immediately, however. Kale, who’d taken it upon himself to haul the buckets of water up as needed, filled the pot, wrested it from her grasp and held out his arm. While Aslyn was busy ignoring the hint, Lord Algar possessed himself of a hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. Surprised, Aslyn turned to glare at him, trying to pull her hand free, whereupon Kale took her free hand, tucked it in the crook of his arm, and gave her a tug.
Giving up the fight, Aslyn allowed them to escort her back to her cottage. She made no attempt at conversation, however, despite Lord Algar’s many attempts to prod her into intercourse. Kale remained silent. She wasn’t certain whether it was because that was typical of him, or if he was wise enough not to attempt the impossible. In any case, she felt like a prisoner— was a prisoner, however courtly their behavior appeared.
Did they fancy that they were courting her, she wondered a little wildly? But she decided she simply could not credit that. The rivalry between them was far older than their acquaintance and, she thought, far more complicated than a simple contest between two randy males for a chosen female.
She was certainly not flattered by the attention, whatever the case. She was more inclined to view it as a comedy of errors, wherein Kale had perceived Lord Algar’s interest as being more than it actually was and had set himself
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