Read The Princess and the Huntsman for Free Online Page B

scraped in the dirt, but that didn’t stop her from struggling against the arms that held her legs fast.
    She screamed and fought as hard as she could, but she was no match for the tall bowman with the broad shoulders. Soon he had her pinned on her back, straddling her between his knees, and holding her hands above her head.
    His handsome face looked so serious, so concerned. Brandywyn knew, however, that she was caught by another rogue. One who was smarter than Smith had been. Her heart sunk and although she made one more attempt to get free, it was weak.
    “Let me go! Rogue! Varlet! Let me free! I demand it!”
    He laughed, the scurrilous knave. “I am no harm to you, woman. I wanted you to stop so that I could help you. The kidnappers have run off.”
    “Oh.” She stopped struggling.
    “Aye.” Slowly, he released her, helping her to stand and get out of the dirt.
    “Gramercy, sir. You have done me a service. Tell me your name and I shall be certain to tell my father the king. He will reward you handsomely for freeing me.”
    “I am Tom Huntsman,” he told her with a courtly bow. “Who are you?”
    “I told you. I am Princess Brandywyn of Ring.”
    “Aha,” he said, pity moving over his features. “Well, Princess , I think me a draught of water and a bit of pheasant would be in order before we take you back to your palace.”
    Brandywyn’s mouth watered at the thought. “Aye. Aye, can you do’t, I would be most grateful. But then I must go home.”
    “Of course.” He offered her his arm. “Princess, your sup awaits.”
    Smiling, Brandywyn took his arm and let him help her mount behind him on his horse where she would have to share the space with a brace of pheasants.
    Unlike her partner on her last ride, Tom Huntsman smelled good. Her arms went round him well, and though they could not meet in the middle, it was closer. She allowed herself to lean her chafed cheek against his broad back. His muscles were hard, but the fabric of his simple doublet, a bit worn here and there, was soft and clean. He was a stranger, of a certainty, but he had saved her from Smith, and that was worth something. Of course, he might have tricked her, but she had a feeling that he was not the sort to do so. At least, that was her hope.
    He trotted the horse into the trees where they found a deer track. It led to a clearing near a narrow stream, and in the clearing stood a small cottage. The wattle and daub walls looked sturdy, its thatch fresh on the roof. Beside it was a shelter for the horse, but when they dismounted, Brandywyn saw that there was also a cow inside. It seemed like a tidy home from the outside.
    “This is your home?”
    “Aye. Humble as it is for a princess’ visit.” He smiled again, and Brandywyn had the impression that he was humoring her. He took the pheasants off the horse and led the way to the door of the cottage. Once there, he bowed again and opened the portal for Brandywyn to enter.
    Inside, it was a little dim, but that was soon remedied when Tom lit an oil lamp that sat on a roughhewn but smooth-topped table in the center of the single room. On either side of the table was an aisle way, and a ladder of shelves. The shelves held all manner of small things, including tools and crude dishes.
    At the back of the cottage was a large bed—straw-filled, she expected—and it looked extremely inviting with blankets and quilts sleep-wrinkled upon it. She was so tired. But she had a long way to travel before reaching home, and after she had a meal, she would have to be off.
    “Please sit, Your Highness. Rest your feet. I shall soon have your meal ready.”
    She looked longingly at the bed again, hunger warring with the need to rest. Tom did not miss her look.
    “Would you nap before you sup? You are welcome to use my bed for a while as the pheasant cooks.”
    It was too much to resist. She walked toward the bed, but stopped as he spoke. “Princess,” he began, his voice apologetic. “You are a bit…