Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

nightmares must be
plaguing her again. She placed the candle in a wall scone as she sipped from
the goblet.
    To keep out of her line of sight he eased into a
kneeling position, partially hidden behind the canopy’s draping side panels.
    When she untied her robe and tossed it on a chair, the
low burning fire in the hearth granted him a lovely silhouette. As she made her
gliding way to the bed, he grinned at the elegant sway of her hips, and
remembered a little belatedly she preferred to sleep in nothing but her
skin—her silent way of rebelling at the restrictions set by Lady Stonemantle.
Oh well, time to show himself. She’d snarl and spit like an angry cat if he
didn’t make his presence known before she stripped for bed.
    His good intentions hit a little snag when she started
to work at the laces running down the front of the night gown. Old wood cracked
ominously underfoot. With a sharp snap, the bed shook hard enough he had to
grab the post to hold himself upright as one side sagged.
    The bed would have to choose now to complain
about the weight?
    “Sorsha, don’t be afraid.” He sent his thoughts out to her.
    She jerked her head up when she saw him. Her mouth
dropped open. Then she drew breath to scream but bit the sound off before it
had even emerged. Rage sparked in her eyes and she lunged back to the chair and
snatched up a harness.
    “Sorsha, it’s me, Shadowdancer.” He put more strength into his mental call. Maybe his Larnkin
was still exhausted….or angry at his foolery perhaps. “Sorsha?”
    With a violent twist of her arm, she threw the harness
and sheath at him. He ducked a hair too late and the buckle scraped his cheek
before it continued over his shoulder to land with a clatter.
    “Sorsha. I’m sorry. I can explain.”
    Her expression didn’t change at his words. She hadn’t
heard anything he’d said. Belatedly, he realized he should have thought of the
finer nuances of how to communicate if his Larnkin still hadn’t recovered
enough for him to use mind speech by the time Sorsha returned. Now it was too
late. Panic curled in his stomach and he tried to say her name aloud, but lips
which had never known words butchered her name, changing it to a slurred ugly
sound. He tried a second time. “Sow..hor…a?”
    “Did you just call me a whore?
You….stupid…drunken…swine.” Sorsha snarled and lunged at him with her dagger.
“Did some of your drunken friends put you up to this….I’ll give you a tale to
sing about in the taverns.”
    Her eyes turned cold—all the rage swallowed back.
Calm, she was more likely to land a fatal blow. Now she was truly dangerous.
    Foolish it might be, but his blood surged at the
thought of a challenge. When she advanced on him, he flashed a grin. She slashed
at him with the dagger in answer. There was no fear in her scent, and his grin
grew broader. If this had been Ashayna Stonemantle, he would have run, but
Sorsha lacked her sister’s training.
    Sorsha lunged, and he sidestepped. Her dagger cut
through a piece of drapery instead of whichever one of his body parts she had
targeted. Before the fabric fluttered to the ground, she was on him again. He
backed across the bed as fast as he could. Perhaps Sorsha had more training
than he’d thought.
    The sheets threatened to trip him, and he fought for
balance in this new body while at the same time trying not to get impaled.
    He kicked a pillow at her. She tripped, caught up in
her long gown. While she fought the bedding and her nightdress, he darted
around one of the stout, wooden posts, and lunged off the bed. He backed toward
the window, each step getting him closer to freedom.
    Sorsha grabbed fistfuls of her floor length nightgown
and jerked it above her knees with a curse. While she negotiated the bed and
her gown, the bed frame gave another dull crack. She braced her legs to
stabilize her balance. “I’m going to castrate you.”
    Now that possibility hadn’t entered his
thoughts while he’d climbed