The Perfect Stranger Read Free Page A

could barely see what was happening; it was all shadows and horrible sounds—the sounds of fists smashing into flesh, of bones crunching, and the guttural gasps and groans of men fighting.
    Incredibly, her Englishman seemed to be winning. He landed two frightful blows on the biggest man, then picked him up bodily and hurled him into some bushes. The man screamed again as he landed in a prickle bush.
    As her champion wrestled with another man, the third man limped up from behind. A knife glittered. Faith screamed a warning, and the Englishman swung around and shoved his assailant at the attacker. There was another scream and further cursing.
    And then suddenly there was silence. “Keep her then, English,” one of the men wheezed. “I hope she gives you the pox!” The three attackers stumbled off into the darkness.
    Man, woman, and dog waited until no further sounds of retreat could be heard. The dog’s growls died away. His hackles dropped, and soon there was only the sound of the fire crackling and the distant splash of waves.
    “They’ve gone,” the tall man said curtly.
    “A-are you sure?”
    “Yes. Beowulf wouldn’t relax if they were anywhere in the vicinity, would you, Wulf?” The dog looked up as he addressed him. He glanced at Faith, and a low growl emitted from behind those appalling teeth. Faith shuddered. The terrifying creature was huge and woolly and the size of a small horse. Beowulf? He looked more like one of the legendary monsters the hero of that name had fought.
    “Don’t worry. He doesn’t like women, but he won’t hurt you. Now, are you all right?”
    “Yes, thank you. But what about you? Are you hurt?”
    “Me? Of course not.” He said it as if the idea was ridiculous.
    At the realization that she was safe, Faith’s legs—her whole body—started shaking. “Th-thank you for r-rescuing me.” It was totally inadequate for what he had done.
    “Nicholas Blacklock at your service.” He put out his hand, and she placed hers in his. It was trembling like a leaf. Her whole body was. She tried to control it.
    He frowned, noticing, and his hand tightened over hers. “You’re safe now.” He said it as if it was an order.
    “Yes.” She bit her lip to stop it trembling. “I know.”
    He examined her face and scowled, a black, intimidating look. “Come over to the fire, and we’ll see to that.” He grimaced at her. “Can you walk?”
    “Yes, of course.” She started toward the fire, but for some reason her legs didn’t seem to work properly. A horridly pathetic sound escaped her as she stumbled and nearly fell.
    He made some exclamation under his breath, and before Faith knew what was happening, he’d scooped her up in his arms and was striding toward the fire.
    Nick caught a flash of something—fear? surprise?—in her eyes. She stiffened in his arms, as if bracing herself to escape. He tightened his hold and growled, “Little fool! Why not tell me you were hurt? I can see your face is, but I didn’t know about your feet!”
    She gave him an uncertain look, but her body relaxed slightly. Her arms wavered, as if she didn’t know what to do with them, and then she hooked one arm gingerly around his neck, watching his face with a wary expression. When he made no objection, she tightened her hold and clutched at his shirtfront with the other, afraid he would drop her. She wasn’t used to being carried in a man’s arms, he thought.
    That surprised him. Her green dress was low-cut enough to show slight but very feminine curves, and it was torn at the neck to reveal even more. It was silk or some fine fabric, though stained and ragged in places. Her cloak, on the other hand, was thick, coarse, and heavy; hand-woven wool, he guessed. An incongruous combination.
    Tucked up close against his chest, he couldn’t help but inhale the scent of her. His body reacted the same as the first time, when she’d knocked him flat to the ground. Arousal. Intense and immediate. His nostrils