Read Online The Legend of the Werestag by Tessa Dare - Free Book Online

an extra pair of hands would be useful. “Just…hold her. Keep her ankle steady, even if she bucks.” She nodded. “Portia, I’m going to hold your leg now.” Her delicate fingers closed around her friend’s ankle and calf, in grips so tight her knuckles blanched. “I’m ready.” He bent his head and threaded the branch between the jaws of the trap. Despite his attempt not to jostle Portia’s leg, he could not help but brush it. Her low moan of pain was met with more murmured assurances from Brooke.
    Luke looked to Cecily, anxious to gauge her reaction.
    “Go ahead,” she said calmly, still gripping Portia’s leg. “Just do it.” Luke braced his boot and levered the branch with all his strength. Pain ripped through his forearm, and Portia released a bloodcurdling scream that surely belonged in one of her gothic novels. But Cecily held her friend’s leg stoically, using all her weight to keep it still.
    Within a few seconds, Luke had pried the jaws apart. “Now,” he commanded in a grunt, and Cecily understood him. She pulled her friend’s boot up and out of the trap, a half second before the branch splintered and the metal spikes snapped on air.
    “We’ll need to assess her wound,” Cecily said, unlacing her friend’s boot while Luke stood panting for breath. She had Portia’s boot and shredded stocking removed within seconds.
    Together they knelt over her wounded foot.
    “These don’t look deep,” Luke said, observing the two puncture wounds on Portia’s pale foot. “And only a scratch below.”
    “Thank heaven for sensible shoes.” Cecily flashed him a little smile.
    A sweet pang of affection caught him in the chest. She was handling this so well, soothing everyone—Luke included—with her serene competence and dry humor. Where had she learned how to cope with scenes like this? Certainly not in finishing school.
    Desperate to distract himself before he lost sight of any goal but kissing her, Luke returned his gaze to the wound. After studying it a few moments more, he said, “It’ll need to be cleansed thoroughly. But we’d best bind it for now, until we can get her back to the Manor. Cecy, give me your—”
    “Stocking?” A wide ribbon of ivory flannel dangled before his eyes.
    He looked up, startled. Her expression was all innocence.
    “I was going to say handkerchief,” he lied, taking the garment from her. “But this will do.” As Cecily jammed her bare foot back into her boot, Luke looped the stocking over Portia’s foot and ankle repeatedly, binding her wounds tight.
    Denny returned, two serviceable poles in hand. Luke stripped off his own coat and threaded a pole through either sleeve before buttoning it down the middle. He did the same with Brooke’s coat, coming from the poles’ opposite end. The result was a makeshift conveyance that would bear Portia’s weight easily.
    Brooke fussed over the wounded lady as they transferred her to the pallet, going so far as to plant a kiss on her brow to praise her bravery.

    “What a kiss,” Portia complained. “As if I were a child.” Brooke cupped her face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly. He released her only when Portia’s faint growl of protest melted to a pleased sigh. “There, was that better?”
    “Quite.” Portia’s cheeks pinked.
    “All right, then. Now be a good little girl, and lie still.” She swatted at him feebly as he and Denny lifted the pallet—Brooke carrying the end at Portia’s head, and Denny lifting her feet.
    Cecily went to Denny’s side. “I…I must rest a moment, but Portia needs a doctor’s attention. Please go ahead with her. Luke will see me home.” She popped up on her tiptoes to reward Denny’s nod of agreement with a light kiss to his cheek.
    As if he were a child , Luke thought pettily.
    And then somehow, they were alone.
    “Will you walk with me?” she asked, suddenly standing at his elbow.
    He silently offered his arm, but she shook her head, reaching for his hand