Read Compromising Positions for Free Online Page B

“But Darrow’s healing nicely and the wulvers are safe. That’s the important thing.”
    “Aye,” Donal agreed. “Thanks to ye, Lady Sibyl.”
    “And if we can keep Darrow in bed,” Sibyl said, giving him a long, quelling look. “Mayhaps he’ll be ready to travel within the month.”
    “The month?” Darrow exploded, struggling against Laina’s hold—she was a woman, but she was a wulver, after all. “I’ll be ready t’go in two days! Less, if ye stop makin’ me drink that godawful—”
    “Laina, keep your mate in bed, please.” Sibyl crossed her arms and glared at him.
    “Mayhaps I should show Kirstin to a room?” Donal suggested, smiling as Kirstin glanced over at him. “I thought I’d have Moira find ’er a more suitable wardrobe?”
    “She’s a wulver and a Scot, MacFalon.” Darrow glared at him, eyes narrowed. “D’ye expect ’er t’wear more’n ’er plaid?”
    “I notice yer wearin’ a plaid, Lady Sibyl,” Donal noted with a smile, ignoring Darrow’s obvious hostility. “In spite of the closet full of English clothes me brother had made fer ye.”
    “Sibyl might have been born English, but she’s been chosen by our pack leader as his mate,” Kirstin reminded him—reminded all of them. “She is banrighinn now.”
    “ Banrighinn ?” Sibyl stumbled over the Gaelic word.
    “Queen.” Donal translated quietly, looking at Sibyl with soft eyes.
    “Aye,” Laina agreed. “ Banrighinn .”
    “I’m no one’s b-banrighinn ,” Sibyl muttered, flushing. “Besides, Raife won’t even talk to me, let alone mark me.”
    Kirstin saw Sibyl look longingly at the intricate tattoo that decorated Darrow’s shoulder. A matching one was inked on Laina’s hip and thigh, marking them as one another’s.
    “Raife’s a stubborn fool,” Kirstin snapped, putting an arm around Sibyl’s shoulders.
    “Kirstin!” Raife’s voice boomed as he appeared in the doorway, his big frame filling it completely. His face was a thundercloud, his brow low and drawn. There were new worry lines on his face, and his eyes were as dark as a night sky. “What’re ye doin’ere?”
    “I came t’tend the wounded,” Kirstin said simply, feeling Sibyl shrink against her side at the sight of Raife.
    “There’s only one wounded, and from t’sound of ’im yellin’ fer me, he’s jus’ fine,” Raife snapped, pointing at his half-naked brother. “I want m’pack back in the den. Darrow, are ye well enough t’travel?”
    “Aye, brother.” Darrow’s voice sounded strong as he pushed the covers back, sitting up and swinging his bare legs over the side obediently. He clearly thought he was ready to follow his leader, but bright red blood bloomed on the sheet Sibyl had tied as a bandage and he winced.
    “No, Darrow,” Laina soothed softly, trying to press him back onto bed.
    “Raife, he’s not well enough to travel!” Sibyl cried, fleeing to Darrow’s side in order to look at his wound. Kirstin could see, when she slid the bandage aside, that some of the stitches had been pulled by his motion. “Please, don’t move him! I beg you.”
    “He’s a wulver,” Raife growled, glowering at his brother. He wouldn’t even look at Sibyl, even if he was speaking counter to her words. “If he’s awake, he can travel now.”
    “He was run-through with a sword, you man-beast!” Sibyl hissed with anger.
    Kirstin saw rage flicker in Raife’s eyes. The whole room sizzled with the heat of their argument—and it was clearly not the first time they’d had it. Donal was already stepping in, trying to make peace.
    “Ye can all stay as long as ye need.” Donal put a hand on Raife’s arm. “We’ve plenty of room.”
    “I’m grateful fer yer honorable treatment and hospitality.” Raife straightened, frowning, glancing down at Donal—Raife was a head taller, and Donal was a big man. “But we need t’get home.”
    “Don’t be in such a hurry ye lose one of yer own,” Donal said softly, watching as