Samantha James Read Online Free Page A

of secrets, yet he was never one to confide freely of his mind or his mood. Nay, he was not an easy man to know…indeed, when they had first met, for a time she’d been wary of him, convinced that Egan disliked her. When she confided it to Niall, he’d laughed and said that Egan’s quiet reserve was simply his way.
    “Are you ready?”
    It was him—Egan. In her absorption, she hadn’t noticed that he’d turned to face her. His countenance was unsmiling, his mouth a thin straight line. Coolly their eyes met; Glenda knew then that he was aware of her regard.
    “Aye,” she said, shaken, though she could not have said why it was so. “Let us be on our way.”
    The hours passed. Glenda rode a few yards behind him, for her palfrey was not so swift and long-legged as his stallion. Throughout the remainder of the day, the proud, straight line of Egan’s back never faltered; he was an excellent horseman. Yet he remained almost broodingly silent.
    In time the sun dipped below the hills to the west. A murky haze began to fill the western horizon. Egan did not speak, but slowly brought his stallion to a halt near a stand of tall gray aspen surrounded by towering firs.
    Druscilla dutifully trotted behind his steed, slowing down as well. As soon as his mount stopped, Egan swung down from the saddle. In but an instant strong hands closed around her waist; she felt herself lifted effortlessly from the saddle to the ground. Atthe feel of his hands, both hot and cold flashed inside her. Saints above, why did he make her feel so uncomfortable? The question had no more than tumbled through her mind than one of her knees gave way, a betrayal of the long hours astride.
    A sound of distress emerged—she couldn’t stop it; the grip on her waist remained staunchly firm.
    “Steady now.”
    Her gaze tripped up to his. “’Tis all right. I am fine.” The words were breathless, even to her own ears. Quickly she stepped back, breaking the contact between them.
    His hands fell to his sides. His expression seemed to tighten…or was it but the deepening shadows of twilight?
    Unable—or mayhap unwilling—to examine it just now, Glenda made her way toward a stout-limbed oak tree. Lowering herself to the soft, mossy ground, she leaned back against the hardy trunk and stretched out her legs. The gurgling sounds of the brook nearby filled her ears. She closed her eyes, thinking to rest just a moment.
    Precisely what woke her, she was not certain. The next thing she knew, her eyes snapped open. The clearing was steeped in darkness, but the light from a blazing fire revealed Egan standing directly before her, arms crossed over his chest. A dark brow slashed upward, as if in vehement disapproval.
    “If you were so tired, why did you not ask me to halt earlier?”
    Glenda was not obliged to excuse his shortness. In all honesty, she hadn’t realized how exhausted she was until they stopped. “And if you did not wish toescort me, you need not have done so. Cameron could have found someone else…Finn, mayhap!”
    “Now, why would you say that?”
    “Because you are angry.”
    “I am not.”
    That was Egan. Ever direct. Ever spare of words. Ever calm, never one to ponder and puzzle. Only then did she realize she was the one whose temper was short. Perhaps she was more tired than she realized.
    “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
    “There is naught to forgive, Glenda.” His gaze was steady. “Are you hungry?”
    Her chin bobbed. “I am,” she affirmed.
    He turned and strode toward his stallion, returning with a small pouch. Lowering himself to the ground nearby, he rummaged through it and handed her a wedge of cheese and bread. Glenda ate hungrily, finishing off her portion of cheese before he did his own. Without speaking, he passed her a horn of ale. Glenda drank thirstily, then daintily wiped her mouth with the back of her knuckles and handed it back to him.
    Glenda found herself unable to look away as he tipped the horn to his mouth.