Read Online Isle of Mull 03 - To Love a Warrior by Lily Baldwin - Free Book Online
Authors: Lily Baldwin
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she said.
“And I love ye. Oh my, but ye’re all smiles and daydreams today,” Brenna said, shaking her head. “Off with ye, lass. Go stretch your legs. We’ll need more blaeberries before long. Just bring your sword so I don’t worry after ye.”
Nellore set out with a basket on her arm and a skip in her step. The sun warmed her skin. Everywhere she turned the earth shone with the promise of vitality. She headed through the wood, which bordered the eastern orchards.
A broad expanse of apple trees surrounded her. The limbs shimmered with pink blossoms. As the wind blew, the air became thick with drifting petals. She spun around and around while she raised her face to the sky. The petals caressed her skin on their way to their earthly bed. Then she heard the snap of a branch behind her, and she whirled around but nothing seemed amiss. She held her breath as she listened. In a different direction than the first disturbance, she heard another branch snap. She whirled around again. This time she saw a shadow flit between two trees. She withdrew her blade from behind her back and eased toward the noise.
Suddenly, she was snatched from behind and thrust against a hard chest. Fear shot through her as lips brushed her ear and the heat of her captor’s warm breath caressed her neck. She shook her head, clearing away her surprise while her courage sprang to the fore. She threw her head back, producing a satisfying crunch as her skull connected with something much softer. A loud curse rang out and the grip on her arms loosened. She spun around and pushed the man to the ground, thrusting her blade beneath his neck.
“Garik,” she exclaimed. “Och, Garik! I’m so sorry. I did not realize it was ye.”
He held his forearm to his bleeding nose. She knelt to the ground and swept up the end of her tunic, gathering it into a bundle. “Allow me,” she said. He pulled his hand away, and the blood raced down his mouth and chin. “Oh, God, Garik, forgive me,” she said as she pressed the fabric to his nose.
He chuckled. “I should have known better than to sneak up on you,” he said. “Do not fret so. It is nothing.”
“Do not speak until the bleeding stops,” she said.
His sheer blue eyes locked with hers as she continued to hold her tunic to his nose. They were so close, he sitting and she on her knees. The hand that did not hold the compress cradled his head, her fingers laced through his black hair. She could smell him and feel the heat of his body. Her breathing quickened as his unwavering gaze held hers. She blushed under his scrutiny.
“I’m going to check whether the bleeding has lessened,” she said, pulling the fabric away. “It appears to have stopped.” She dabbed at his skin to clean away the stain of blood she had not been quick enough to catch. “I don’t think I broke it.”
One side of his lips lifted into a lazy sideways smile that told her he would not care if she had. “I am more concerned about your tunic,” he said, pointing to the stained, wadded fabric still in her hands. She looked down and saw that her knees and the bottom of her thighs were exposed to his gaze. She blushed again and quickly smoothed the fabric in place. His hand grazed her thigh, his touch as soft as a whisper, and yet it burned through the fabric to her skin and then throughout her whole body. “I would do it all again,” he said.
A smile came unbidden to her lips as she lost herself in his shining eyes. Strands of long, black hair had escaped from the leather thong he used to secure it back at the nape of his neck. Her eyes then roamed over his broad shoulders. He wore a soft brown leather jerkin and a plain linen shirt beneath it. His trousers were gray, and he wore no shoes on his feet. She turned her gaze back to his face and saw a look of amusement in his eyes. She had been caught staring. She stood up then and dusted off her tunic. He continued to stare up at her, and seemed in no hurry to pursue any
“And I love ye. Oh my, but ye’re all smiles and daydreams today,” Brenna said, shaking her head. “Off with ye, lass. Go stretch your legs. We’ll need more blaeberries before long. Just bring your sword so I don’t worry after ye.”
Nellore set out with a basket on her arm and a skip in her step. The sun warmed her skin. Everywhere she turned the earth shone with the promise of vitality. She headed through the wood, which bordered the eastern orchards.
A broad expanse of apple trees surrounded her. The limbs shimmered with pink blossoms. As the wind blew, the air became thick with drifting petals. She spun around and around while she raised her face to the sky. The petals caressed her skin on their way to their earthly bed. Then she heard the snap of a branch behind her, and she whirled around but nothing seemed amiss. She held her breath as she listened. In a different direction than the first disturbance, she heard another branch snap. She whirled around again. This time she saw a shadow flit between two trees. She withdrew her blade from behind her back and eased toward the noise.
Suddenly, she was snatched from behind and thrust against a hard chest. Fear shot through her as lips brushed her ear and the heat of her captor’s warm breath caressed her neck. She shook her head, clearing away her surprise while her courage sprang to the fore. She threw her head back, producing a satisfying crunch as her skull connected with something much softer. A loud curse rang out and the grip on her arms loosened. She spun around and pushed the man to the ground, thrusting her blade beneath his neck.
“Garik,” she exclaimed. “Och, Garik! I’m so sorry. I did not realize it was ye.”
He held his forearm to his bleeding nose. She knelt to the ground and swept up the end of her tunic, gathering it into a bundle. “Allow me,” she said. He pulled his hand away, and the blood raced down his mouth and chin. “Oh, God, Garik, forgive me,” she said as she pressed the fabric to his nose.
He chuckled. “I should have known better than to sneak up on you,” he said. “Do not fret so. It is nothing.”
“Do not speak until the bleeding stops,” she said.
His sheer blue eyes locked with hers as she continued to hold her tunic to his nose. They were so close, he sitting and she on her knees. The hand that did not hold the compress cradled his head, her fingers laced through his black hair. She could smell him and feel the heat of his body. Her breathing quickened as his unwavering gaze held hers. She blushed under his scrutiny.
“I’m going to check whether the bleeding has lessened,” she said, pulling the fabric away. “It appears to have stopped.” She dabbed at his skin to clean away the stain of blood she had not been quick enough to catch. “I don’t think I broke it.”
One side of his lips lifted into a lazy sideways smile that told her he would not care if she had. “I am more concerned about your tunic,” he said, pointing to the stained, wadded fabric still in her hands. She looked down and saw that her knees and the bottom of her thighs were exposed to his gaze. She blushed again and quickly smoothed the fabric in place. His hand grazed her thigh, his touch as soft as a whisper, and yet it burned through the fabric to her skin and then throughout her whole body. “I would do it all again,” he said.
A smile came unbidden to her lips as she lost herself in his shining eyes. Strands of long, black hair had escaped from the leather thong he used to secure it back at the nape of his neck. Her eyes then roamed over his broad shoulders. He wore a soft brown leather jerkin and a plain linen shirt beneath it. His trousers were gray, and he wore no shoes on his feet. She turned her gaze back to his face and saw a look of amusement in his eyes. She had been caught staring. She stood up then and dusted off her tunic. He continued to stare up at her, and seemed in no hurry to pursue any
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