Read Online The Wolf and the Highlander (Highland Wishes) by Jessi Gage - Free Book Online Page A

explained as she gained ground. When she got near him, she stepped closer than propriety dictated, wishing to remove the hurt from his eyes by showing him she didn’t fear him. She put a hand on his brawny forearm. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose the powerful muscles. Touching this gentle beast sent a thrill through her.
    He looked at her hand, then at her. The anger melted from his features. “Of course you don’t eat meat.”
    “What do ye mean, of course? ”
    “You’re not built to hunt, even if your legs were right. Your hands are too small. Your teeth are too blunt.”
    She scoffed. “My teeth do just fine, thank you, and even cripples can buy meat from the butcher and cook it to their liking.”
    “Cooked meat,” he murmured. He made a small noise of consideration, as if he’d never thought of such a thing.
    “Aye,” she laughed. “Like your bread. Cooked. I adore meat when it’s cooked.”
    After a moment of thought, he nodded. “I can cook meat for you.” Then he started walking again, this time keeping his pace slower so she could remain alongside him. “You’re human?” he asked after a while.
    “Aye. And you are?”
    “Other than your servant and protector?” he asked with a grin that made her stomach flutter pleasantly.
    She rolled her eyes. “Aye, other than that.”
    He smiled full at her, and the sight of his eyes crinkling with warm affection turned the flutters in her stomach to shivers that raced over her whole body. “We are wolfkind,” he said.
    “Wolfkind.” The term seemed to fit him. His animal grace, his teeth, his eyes that practically glowed with ferocity when he was angry. “I’ve never met a...wolf-man before. Have you ever met a human?”
    “No.”
    She must seem as unusual to him as he did to her. Mayhap that explained some of his gruffness.
    They were of different peoples. Different lands. ’Twas only by the magic of Gravois’ gift they could understand each other.
    She took in the forest around them. The trees were bigger around and taller than in Scotia. The air was scented more richly with moss and loam. But the differences weren’t so pronounced she felt as though she were in a different world. Yet she must be. She’d always assumed talk of mythical peoples and places was nonsense. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
    “Barmy tink.”
     
    * * * *
     
    Are you a ll right? Does it hurt to walk? Should I carry you?
    Riggs bit back the questions as they came to him. Anya would not appreciate them. He hardly knew her, but he knew that much. The woman had as much pride as any man.
    For most of the morning, he’d let her set the pace and had remained by her side as they followed the creek northward. This route, which would take them through Marann’s northern foothills, was not the quickest to Chroina, but it was the most secluded. And if they were being pursued, the trackers would not expect it. As long as they made it to the lake by nightfall tomorrow, they would elude any trackers.
    Given Anya’s pace, that was not guaranteed.
    He walked five paces in front of her, keeping his steps short, his speed almost painfully slow so as not to tax her. He’d moved ahead of her when the sight of her upper body weaving with her stride had become too much to bear. It had to be hell on her back. He could no longer see her, but he still heard her. Her breathing was heavy but regular, her steps uneven but rhythmic, like a lilting tune.
    And he smelled her. Even after bathing with his lye soap and putting on his old clothes, she still smelled like flowers and hyssop. And woman. Another benefit to being in front of her was that she couldn’t glimpse his half-hard prick. Would it ever fully relax in her presence?
    “How far is this Chroina?” she asked.
    He directed his voice over his shoulder. “By horse, we could comfortably ride there in four days. A man can make it from border to coast in two with frequent changes of mount.” Though, not by the route