Enchanted Cottage (Avador Book 3, Books We Love Fantasy Romance)

Enchanted Cottage (Avador Book 3, Books We Love Fantasy Romance) Read Free Page B

Book: Enchanted Cottage (Avador Book 3, Books We Love Fantasy Romance) Read Free
Author: Shirley Martin
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plaid trousers tucked inside mid-calf leather boots. The boots appeared to be made of well-crafted leather.
    Enough time had passed, and she poured more boiling water over the petals, making the infusion as hot as possible. She tore off a strip from her shift and knelt on the floor. With a cloth to protect her fingers, she pressed the infusion over his wound. She winced as he jerked and opened his eyes. Within seconds he closed his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like “get home”. How far from home is he? she wondered as she wrapped the linen strip around his arm and tied it. She sat back and prayed to the Goddess that she could save his arm. She needed to change his poultice often, but that was the least of her worries. He must not lose his arm.
    While he slept and the oven was warming, she mixed ingredients for two loaves of bread. She set the dough in a greased bowl and covered it to let it rise. As the morning wore on, she cast anxious glances at the stranger, grateful he slept, for sleep was the best healer. Determined that she had done enough for now, she made herself a cup of chamomile tea and warmed up yesterday’s vegetable soup. That would do for her midday meal, she thought as she sat down at the table.
    For a few busy hours, she’d forgotten the curse, forgotten her ugly looks. What would the stranger think when he awoke and saw her? Sighing, she rose to place the dough into two pans, then set them in the oven, drawing her arm out quickly. The bread and leftover soup would have to do for the evening meal. She had two to feed now, she mused as she set the dirty dishes in a tin tub of soapy water.
     
    * * *
     
    His mouth dry from thirst, Colin awoke from a feverish sleep. The aroma of baking bread wafted through the air, a blatant reminder of his hunger. He opened one eye, then another. Where was he? Ah, yes. Everything came back to him, his long trek through the woods and finding this cottage. His arm burned like fury, but a glance in that direction revealed that someone had applied a poultice to his wound. He changed his position and saw a woman with her back to him. Long, lustrous hair fell almost to her waist. What color would one call it—chestnut, auburn? No matter, her hair was beautiful. With her trim figure, that gray dress certainly didn’t do her justice. A lovely lady such as she should be clad in silk or—
    She turned and he gasped. Danu’s balls, she was the ugliest woman he’d ever seen. What had happened to her face? What if she had a contagious disease?
    “I won’t bite,” she said as she stepped his way. “And no, it’s not contagious.” She paused and licked her lower lip. “I’m Alana Cullain, by the way.”
    He cleared his throat. “Colin Duffrey. I beg your pardon, madam, I was just, er, surprised to see someone in this cabin.”
    Her mouth tightened. “You don’t need to explain.” She knelt and with extreme care, removed the poultice from his arm.
    He jerked. “Am I going to lose my arm?”
    “Not if I can help it. Only wait a few minutes and I’ll have a fresh bandage for you.” She spoke in a soft, pleasant tone, a trace of refinement in her voice. Such pretty eyes she had, the bluest he’d ever seen.
    “Well, I can at least get up off the floor,” he said, matching action to words. On shaky legs, he made his way to a chair. The room spun around him. Quickly, she took his left arm to help him sit.
    He licked dry lips. “Dying of thirst!”
    She smiled, a lovely smile if you could ignore the rest of her face. “I wouldn’t want you to die of thirst or anything else—“ She frowned at her choice of words. She reached for a pitcher on the stone counter and poured some of the contents into a mug. He caught the aroma of—
    ”Mead, but it won’t last forever. I’ve been drinking tea or water.”
    He made a face. “Water?” He took a long gulp of mead. Ah, that tasted good.
    “Water, aye, from the Nantosuelta River, just down the path from here. A

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