The Enchantress Read Free Page B

The pursuers would never catch them now.
    Swerving just in time to dodge a low-hanging branch, he shoved the woman’s head hard against the flank of his horse to avoid her face being whipped by the lower branches.
    After a few more jumps over fallen trees, they splashed through a half-frozen stream. Slowing on the far bank, he peered down at her. She was no longer squirming or even groaning.
    William eased the pressure on the back of her neck and raised her face a bit. It was a rather odd shade of green, he thought. Well, she hadn’t been exaggerating about being ill. His horse’s shoulder and forearm showed signs of the woman’s breakfast.
    At the foot of a stone ledge beside the stream, the Highlander reined his horse to a stop and climbed off. The sight of her, draped like a rag across the withers of the horse, brought a frown to his face. He reached across the animal and dragged the Englishwoman toward him. His frown deepened as she drooped over his arm in a dead faint. He crouched on the gravel of the bank and cradled her in his arms.
    Pushing the hood of her heavy cloak over her head, William stared at the woman. Something tightened in his chest at the sight of her pale and disheveled condition. Her black hair had for the most part escaped its braid and now was lying in a tantalizing array around a perfectly formed face. Her eyes were half closed and her full lips were parted, her breaths unsteady. Even in her tousled condition--nay, perhaps because of it--William knew that she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
    Shaking off such thoughts with a snort, he pulled at the tie that bound the cloak at her throat. With little help the outer garment dropped away, revealing the careful embroidery work in the soft gray wool of her dress. A pulse fluttered at the base of her ivory throat, and William’s gaze swept downward over womanly curves not even her demure dress could hide. He looked away at the gurgling stream, feeling a sudden ache in his loins at the sight of a woman so beautiful...and so vulnerable.
    “Easy does it, Will,” he murmured to himself. “This is not the lass for you.”
    When he looked back at her a trice later, her eyes were just beginning to focus. The violet blue orbs gazed up into his face without recognition for a long moment, and then suddenly narrowed. A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he quickly subdued it and looked away from her face. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he stood her up, gently leading her to the edge of the stream.
    “I can see you’re not much for riding.”
    “I hate you!” Her voice was a mere whisper.
    “Nay, you do not.” Seating her on the ground by the running water, William dipped his hand in the icy water and wiped her chin, the silky softness of her cheeks and brow. “You are grateful to me. For saving your life. For rescuing you from those rascals.”
    Her eyes were fixed on his face, and when he glanced at them, he could see the anger blazing in their depths. She slapped his hand away from her face, and he sent a silent prayer of relief heavenward. He didn’t need to be touching that face right now.
    Rising to his feet, the Highlander took a step back. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her slender back as she leaned over the water, washing her face and drinking from the icy brook.
    A long moment passed. The woman was kneeling beside the water, tidying her hair with her back to him. Suddenly William realized she must be cold. Striding across the loose gravel, he was reaching down to pick up her cloak when another thought struck him. Despite being a captive for months and despite what he’d gone through to save her life, she was still no more than a pampered court lady. And an English one, even worse!
    “Are you a madman?”
    She was standing up and facing him, her hands on her hips and eyes flashing. He threw the cloak at her, and she caught it. Yanking it around her shoulders, she quickly