Read To Tame a Highland Warrior for Free Online

always recognize him. He’d dismounted and was approaching her, moving with the detached arrogance and grace of a conqueror, exuding confidence as liberally as he exhaled. Grimm Roderick had always been a walking weapon, his body developed and honed to instinctual perfection. Were she to scramble to her feet and feint left, Jillian knew he’d be there before her. Were she to back up, he’d be behind her. Were she to scream, he could cover her mouth before she’d even finished drawing her breath in preparation. She’d only once before seen a creature move with such speed and repressed power: one of the mountain cats whose muscles bunched in springy recoil as they padded about on dangerous paws.
    She drew a shaky breath. He was even more magnificent than he’d been years ago. His black hair was neatly restrained in a leather thong. The angle of his jaw was even more arrogant than she remembered—if that was possible; jutting slightly forward, it caused his lower lip to curl in a sensual smirk regardless of the occasion.
    The air itself felt different when Grimm Roderick was in it; her surroundings receded until nothing existed but him. And she could never mistake those eyes! Mocking blue-ice, his gaze locked with hers over the heads of the forgotten curious children. He was watching her with an unfathomable expression.
    She lunged to her feet, tumbling a startled Zeke to theground. As Jillian stared wordlessly at Grimm, memories surfaced and she nearly drowned in the bitter bile of humiliation. She recalled too clearly the day she’d vowed never to speak to Grimm Roderick again. She’d sworn never to permit him near Caithness—or near her vulnerable heart again—as long as she lived. And he dared saunter up now? As if nothing had changed? The possibility of reconciliation was instantly squashed beneath the weighty heels of her pride. She would not dignify his presence with words. She would not be nice. She would not grant him one ounce of courtesy.
    Grimm worried a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “You’ve … grown, lass.”
    Jillian struggled to speak. When she finally found her tongue, her words dripped ice. “How dare you come back here? You are not welcome. Leave my home!”
    “I can’t do that, Jillian.” His soft voice unnerved her.
    Her heart racing, she drew a slow, deep breath. “If you don’t leave of your own accord, I’ll summon the guards to remove you.”
    “They won’t do that, Jillian.”
    She clapped her hands. “Guards!” she cried.
    Grimm didn’t move an inch. “It won’t help, Jillian.”
    “And quit saying my name like that!”
    “Like what, Jillian?” He sounded genuinely curious.
    “Like … like … a prayer or something.”
    “As you wish.” He paused the length of two heartbeats—during which she was astonished he’d capitulated to her will, because he certainly never had before—then he added with such husky resonance that it slipped inside her heart without her consent, “Jillian.”
    Perish the man! “Guards. Guards!”
    Her guards arrived on a run, then halted abruptly, studying the man standing before their mistress.
    “Milady, you summoned?” Hatchard inquired.
    “Remove this iniquitous scoundrel from Caithness before he breeds …
brings”
—she corrected herself hastily—“his depravity and wicked insolence into my home,” she sputtered to a finish.
    The guards looked from her to Grimm and didn’t move.
    “Now. Remove him from the estate at once!”
    When the guards still didn’t move, her temper rose a notch. “Hatchard, I said make him leave. By the sweet saints, toss him out of my life. Banish him from the country. Och! Just remove him from this
world
, will you, now?”
    The flank of guards stared at Jillian with openmouthed astonishment. “Are you feeling well, milady?” Hatchard asked. “Should we fetch Kaley to see if you’ve a touch of the fever?”
    “I don’t have a touch of anything. There’s a degenerate knave on