Read Highland Wolf (Highland Brides) for Free Online

kind of man am I, lass?"
    "The kind ta make a girl cautious, lest she get in over her head."
    He remained silent for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was quiet and beautifully burred. "Then ye dunna find me unfavorable?"
    The surprise that lighted her face was real. Unfavorable? What a strange question, but she did not have the luxury to understand it, only to use it. "No," she whispered. Half-closing her eyes, she rose on her toes. Her lips were inches from his. "I find ya ... very appealing."
    He lowered his mouth. Between their bodies, Betty tipped her knife upward, prepared to strike. But suddenly her wrist was trapped in his hand.
    She gasped, snapped open her eyes, and stared into his face. His gaze had not dropped, but bored into her eyes with the intensity of flame.
    "If ye find me appealing, lass, I'd suggest ye drop the dirk," he murmured. '"Twould surely make me less becoming ta have a blade stuck between me ribs."
    Before she could speak, the knife was snatched from her hand and flung away. It clattered unseen against the far wall.
    "Yer surprisingly predictable, lass," he said, still holding her wrist.
    Fear flooded her like the indomitable wash of tide. She wasn't predictable. Unpredictability was the only reason she had survived so long in this city. Who was this man who could read her thoughts? And what was he reading now? "What do ya want?" she rasped.
    She felt his tension as if it were her own, a bowstring of singing emotion strung between them and reverberating with ... With what? He stood very near, close enough for her to smell the faint hint of caraway. But also close enough to catch the illusive scent of man.
    The muscles in his lean jaw flexed again. "I want the necklace back."
    She released her breath with an effort. "Then why come here?"
    His grip loosened almost imperceptibly. "Because ye can help me."
    "Help ya?" She forced herself to laugh, hoping it would dispel some of the tautness in her muscles. It did nothing but echo in the room like the eerie chuckle of a ghost. "And why would I do that, Scottie?"
    "Because I'll pay."
    So he was offering her money again. "Pay?" she asked, letting her tone bloom with interest.
    "For information," he said, and loosened his grip a bit more on her wrist.
    "And why me? Why come to me?"
    "I watched ye at the inn."
    "You and a 'undred others, Scottie. So?" She laughed again, trying to ignore the intensity of his eyes, the casual strength of his hand on her arm. She could feel the heat of his body and the hard press of his thigh even through the many layers of cloth that separated them.
    "So I ken the truth."
    'Truth? About what?" Her heart was racing as she waited for his response.
    The silence was heavy and seemed to last forever.
    "Ye are na as dense as ye seem, lass. Ye ken things."
    She didn't turn away. Didn't deny his words. Didn't shift her gaze away from his. "I'm sure I'm very flattered, Scotsman. But I wonder, what things might you be speaking of?"
    "The Shadow."
    Her stomach pitched at the words. "The Shadow! So that's it!" she exclaimed, and, jerking her wrist free, stepped away. "Ya think the Shadow took yer precious gems!"
    He neither dropped his gaze nor changed his expression. "What do ye know of him?"
    "Only a thousand or so tales. He's a lord. He's a beggar. He's a saint."
    "Nay!" Roman took a quick step forward, but she stepped back just as quickly, pulling her arm to her body to keep out of his grasp. "Dunna tell me fairy tales. For ye believe them na more than I."
    "Nay, I do not. There is no Shadow."
    He was silent for a moment, then, "Ye are wrong. And I think ye know it."
    "Truly?" she asked, raising her chin slightly. "Perhaps ya think I have the Shadow here, hidden under my bed."
    "'Twould seem a terrible waste of yer bed. Who is he?" Roman asked, advancing.
    She stood her ground and raised her chin to maintain contact with his hawkish eyes. "'E's King 'enry. Only na one knows but me, on account of we're lovers."
    "Truly? Ye and auld