Read Online When Lightning Strikes by Cynthia Lucas - Free Book Online
Authors: Cynthia Lucas
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something. Damn. It was unnerving. Cologne ad? She almost laughed out loud, since only a short while ago he smelled like he’d fallen out of the back of a garbage truck.
“My lady? Sarah! Are you daft after all?”
She was jolted back to her senses at that moment by the insistence of his voice. “I'm sorry, what were you saying?” She felt heat creeping into her face.
He rolled off of her in that instant and looked at her as if he wanted to wring her neck. As a matter of fact the idea was beginning to appeal to him.
“Why in God's name did you have to scream in such a manner?! I did not touch you. I simply drank in the sight of your derriere.”
“YOU had no right to sneak up…” she stopped to think for a second. Dammit what would be the right expression? “You sir, had no right stealing upon me unawares!” That was a good one, she had to admit.
“Stealing upon you?” he smirked and shook his head. “I fetched us food and drink and walked back here to the wagon. My wagon. It is none of my doing that you were bent over in such an inviting way!”
He stopped for a moment and sighed in frustration.
“Eat. We will deal with them later. I have some questions for you, my lady.”
He handed her one of the bowls of stew and a spoon. It looked inviting and she quickly began to eat. Surprisingly it tasted good!
“You have told me your name is Sarah. Sarah who? Where are you from and who is your family?”
“I fear that I cannot remember.” Sarah kept her eyes averted staring into her soup bowl as she spoke hoping her shaking hands and wavering voice wouldn't betray her.
“You can remember nothing?” He looked puzzled. She sounded rational.
“Well, I know my name is Sarah. But I am unable to remember from whence I came or who my family might be,” she said, quite proud of herself for her choice of grammar.
He gave her a skeptical look for a second, remembering her saying something about needing to reach her parents and a fiance. Perhaps she was betrothed.
“Sarah. You said something of calling after your parents and a fiancé, if I recall correctly. You spoke of being late for your wedding.”
Swallowing hard and trying to look calm she simply answered, “What? I do not remember saying anything like that. Perhaps my head was still foggy at that moment. Whatever I said, I remember nothing of it. I cannot remember who my family is and if I am betrothed, I can remember nothing of it either.”
She stared at him innocently and apparently he bought it because he sighed heavily and looked a bit worried. She was relieved and secretly happy even, that she was pulling off this language thing authentically enough to be convincing.
“This does not bode well for more reasons than one," he said gravely. "I have heard tell that a strike of lightning could do such as that. It is a miracle you have survived at all. Some would brand you a witch...a dabbler in the black arts to have survived such. My people will not like this at all.”
“I assure you, I am no witch.”
He smirked at her as if she were a foolish child.
“I do not believe in witches. Only your kind would be foolish enough to believe in such things. Many of my own are fortune-tellers, seers and healers. Those of the Holy Roman Church would brand us sorcerers all in the name of their false piety of course, as they themselves practice the true black arts. Drunken rages, fornication, sodomy and ‘healing’ by bleeding or leaches for God's sake! And let us not forget attributing the suffering of man to evil spirits. Oh, and they cover it well as they burn innocents; those who have studied the use of herbs to heal, branding them as witches to cover their own misdeeds and collect their hefty tithes under duress.”
Sarah felt his pain as he spat out the bitter words. These were times of harshness that modern society could not even fathom. Every single day was a struggle for survival. Her compassionate look surprised him. It was not pity, nor
“My lady? Sarah! Are you daft after all?”
She was jolted back to her senses at that moment by the insistence of his voice. “I'm sorry, what were you saying?” She felt heat creeping into her face.
He rolled off of her in that instant and looked at her as if he wanted to wring her neck. As a matter of fact the idea was beginning to appeal to him.
“Why in God's name did you have to scream in such a manner?! I did not touch you. I simply drank in the sight of your derriere.”
“YOU had no right to sneak up…” she stopped to think for a second. Dammit what would be the right expression? “You sir, had no right stealing upon me unawares!” That was a good one, she had to admit.
“Stealing upon you?” he smirked and shook his head. “I fetched us food and drink and walked back here to the wagon. My wagon. It is none of my doing that you were bent over in such an inviting way!”
He stopped for a moment and sighed in frustration.
“Eat. We will deal with them later. I have some questions for you, my lady.”
He handed her one of the bowls of stew and a spoon. It looked inviting and she quickly began to eat. Surprisingly it tasted good!
“You have told me your name is Sarah. Sarah who? Where are you from and who is your family?”
“I fear that I cannot remember.” Sarah kept her eyes averted staring into her soup bowl as she spoke hoping her shaking hands and wavering voice wouldn't betray her.
“You can remember nothing?” He looked puzzled. She sounded rational.
“Well, I know my name is Sarah. But I am unable to remember from whence I came or who my family might be,” she said, quite proud of herself for her choice of grammar.
He gave her a skeptical look for a second, remembering her saying something about needing to reach her parents and a fiance. Perhaps she was betrothed.
“Sarah. You said something of calling after your parents and a fiancé, if I recall correctly. You spoke of being late for your wedding.”
Swallowing hard and trying to look calm she simply answered, “What? I do not remember saying anything like that. Perhaps my head was still foggy at that moment. Whatever I said, I remember nothing of it. I cannot remember who my family is and if I am betrothed, I can remember nothing of it either.”
She stared at him innocently and apparently he bought it because he sighed heavily and looked a bit worried. She was relieved and secretly happy even, that she was pulling off this language thing authentically enough to be convincing.
“This does not bode well for more reasons than one," he said gravely. "I have heard tell that a strike of lightning could do such as that. It is a miracle you have survived at all. Some would brand you a witch...a dabbler in the black arts to have survived such. My people will not like this at all.”
“I assure you, I am no witch.”
He smirked at her as if she were a foolish child.
“I do not believe in witches. Only your kind would be foolish enough to believe in such things. Many of my own are fortune-tellers, seers and healers. Those of the Holy Roman Church would brand us sorcerers all in the name of their false piety of course, as they themselves practice the true black arts. Drunken rages, fornication, sodomy and ‘healing’ by bleeding or leaches for God's sake! And let us not forget attributing the suffering of man to evil spirits. Oh, and they cover it well as they burn innocents; those who have studied the use of herbs to heal, branding them as witches to cover their own misdeeds and collect their hefty tithes under duress.”
Sarah felt his pain as he spat out the bitter words. These were times of harshness that modern society could not even fathom. Every single day was a struggle for survival. Her compassionate look surprised him. It was not pity, nor
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