Read Online Laura Strickland - The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy by Champion of Sherwood - Free Book Online Page B

slowly, to ease his grief.”
    “Nothing can ease his grief.” The corners of Linnet’s mouth tightened.
    “I do not know how you can bear to touch that reeking pile of offal that calls itself a man.”
    Linnet shot one look into Gareth’s face and averted her gaze again.
    He lifted his chin. “I did not kill your friend’s father. That is what has happened, has it not? Your headman is dead?”
    Lark leaned down and snarled directly into his face, “Aye. And you did kill him—that’s what you do not see. ’Tis plain enough to the rest of us, who are forced to live under you: you Norman bastards are all the same, every one of you—all evil to the bone.”

Chapter Eleven
    “Kiss me.”
    The demand curled through Linnet’s mind and senses, soft and persuasive as a sigh. It called to something inside her and caused her to part her lips receptively.
    Supple, long-fingered hands captured her face. A mouth descended on hers and all life narrowed to one sensation: the heat and delight of it, the flooding need and the answered yearning. His weight came down on her body and with it more heat. She felt her spirit expand and then open to accept him and take him in.
    She wound her arms about his neck in order to draw him closer. Her fingertips found delight in the smooth muscle of his shoulders and the softness of his hair. He tasted like warm, summer mead, and her flesh leaped for him. She could feel every part of his body now, vital and strong.
    “Linnet, wake up.”
    Her eyes flew open but the dream did not fade. She was used to waking all of a piece with no confusion, but now the vision lingered and clung to her, made unreality of the morning light that drifted down through green leaves, and her sister’s face that hovered above her.
    Oh, by all that was holy, it had been nothing but a dream.
    Lark scowled at her. “What is amiss with you? You never sleep so long. We are nearly ready to leave. Pa says tend the swine before we get to moving.”
    “Must you call him that?” Long-fingered hands, lithe strength... The heady taste of him still lingered on Linnet’s lips. Why would she dream thus of a virtual stranger? She so rarely dreamt at all.
    “What else should I call him? And why do you care?”
    A fine question, that. “He is injured, and alone.”
    “Harness your sympathies, sister. I know you are a compassionate creature—it is one of your strengths, and also your greatest weakness.”
    “So you say.” Linnet struggled to her feet as the last remnants of the powerful dream dissipated. Gareth de Vavasour sat some twenty paces distant, still hobbled between his trees. De Vavasour, she reminded herself—a hated name and that of her enemy, not her lover.
    “If anyone deserves your compassion it is Falcon.” Lark’s gaze stabbed at Linnet. “He has lost his father, all the family that remained to him.”
    “We are his family,” Linnet replied truthfully.
    “The triad is broken with Martin gone. Our parents are in danger. Try thinking on that.”
    “What makes you suppose I am not?”
    Lark gave an odd shake, a quiver of her shoulders. “Instinct. I do not like the way you look at him.” She nodded at the captive. “It is the same way Fal looks at you.”
    “Do not be daft. He will soon be sent back to Nottingham, and that will end it.”
    “Aye, perhaps, given one of us does not murder him first.”
    Lark stalked away, and Linnet followed to where her parents and Falcon stood talking. She laid a hand on Fal’s arm.
    “How are you?”
    He turned ravaged eyes on her. “I will be all right. I must be strong—it is what Pa would want.”
    True. There had been no weakness in Martin Scarlet, and he had despised others who displayed it. Fal knew that better than anyone.
    Linnet tightened her fingers on his forearm. “If there is aught I can do—”
    A faraway look came to his eyes. “We are called to service now, Lin, with the circle of three broken. We were born for this, you, Lark, and