Rose of the Mists Read Online Free

surprised to see a smile upon his face. The urge to swim to his side was powerful. He seemed friendly, a kindred spirit in this place that she thought of as hers alone. Without conscious thought she slipped her knife back into its place. But a lifetime of caution kept her from joining him. If he saw the mark on her face it might frighten him away, or, worse, he might try to kill her as the herders had.
    Even when he drifted across the pond, so close to her that she could see the pale light of his eyes, she did not move. Yet she drank in every bit of him. When two yards separated them he stood up in the shallows and began washing the blood from his injury, and she noticed that he was young. The blond stubble of beard on the strong angles of his jaw and chin pronounced him full grown, but he had only recently come of age, she guessed.
    Fascinated, she watched as the breeze stirred rippling shivers across his broad back. She too shivered, and as her teeth began to chatter she wondered how long she would be trapped in the water. With relief she saw him dive back toward the center of the pond, heading for the opposite shore and his horse and dog.
    Meghan clasped her hands tightly over her naked shoulders, but the cold pierced bone-deep and her shivering intensified. For a moment she entertained the impulse simply to leap from the water and run into the woods. The man could easily be evaded…but, alas, not the dog.
    Her wary gaze moved to the bank, where the dog stood at the water’s edge waiting eagerly for his master. Panting, his open mouth revealed large sharp teeth, and his black eyes kept watch on the lake surface. A shudder of revulsion quaked through Meghan. The baying of hounds after her own blood was too fresh in her mind for her to admire the handsome animal. She would miss the man when he left but she would be glad when the beast was gone.
    The dog was the first to realize that something was wrong. He moved out and began pawing the water, whining like a puppy. Following his lead, Meghan turned her attention back to the pond. Its surface was smooth again, with no sign of the stranger. Then she saw the faint bubbling near the center.
    Though she could not see through the murky water, an inner vision revealed a man suspended beneath the surface, his body bobbing and swaying like a puppet at the end of the reeds that gripped his wrists and ankles. Without hesitation she pulled her knife from her wrist, clamped it between her teeth, and dived toward that telltale sign.
    The sun had climbed higher in the sky but its rays could not penetrate far into the marshy water. Still Meghan kept her eyes open as she propelled herself deeper into the muddy green underworld. She did not think of failure. It never entered her mind that she would not find him. She hoped only that she would be in time.
    As she reached the tops of the long sinewy weeds she drew back instinctively. Their touch was like the licks of long wet tongues across her stomach and legs. This was what she had been taught to avoid.
    Her hesitation lasted only a moment. The golden-haired stranger was down there; the writhing nest of snaky weeds had wrapped themselves about him and held him in a death grip. He had no weapon to free himself. She had to find him.
    Although her skin shrank from the cold reedy fingers that reached out to her face and body, she plunged deeper into the forest of underwater growth, one hand stretched out in the darkness in search of her goal. When she felt a man’s shoulder under her palm, the solid hard warmth of his skin triggered a leap of joy within her. Already her lungs were aching. With a hard kick she forced herself deeper, reached blindly lower to grasp him under the arm, and then tugged. Only then did he respond. His arm came up and, incredibly, shoved her up and away. Caught unprepared, Meghan floated helplessly to the surface.
    She broke the surface gasping for air, confused and amazed. Was he a madman? Or had he thought her some