Samantha James Read Online Free Page B

Samantha James
Book: Samantha James Read Online Free
Author: His Wicked Promise
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The muscles of his throat worked as he swallowed. That he drank from the very spot she had just abandoned seemed to bother him nary a trifle. Ah, if only Glenda could say the same!
    His lips touched where hers had touched. And when next she drank, hers would touch where his had touched. ’Twas an intimacy she had shared with but one man…Niall. And within a very short time,with Egan, for indeed, her thirst was not slaked. ’Twas an awareness that sent heat flooding to every pore of her skin.
    In one lithe move, Egan rose to his feet, then moved to drop another handful of branches on the fire. When he resumed his place beside her, her gaze had yet to leave him.
    Hair of black swept back from the broadness of his forehead. So near to him, she saw that his lashes were short and thick, curling slightly upward at the ends. A most handsome man, she thought anew, yet the scar lent him a decidedly dangerous look.
    Something seemed to tremble inside her. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel safe. She had come to know Egan as a man of unquestionable loyalty—a man of unquestionable strength. She could never have been afraid of him. Never in this world. Had there been a need to choose a man to defend her, it could only have been Egan. She trusted him as she would trust few men…as Cameron trusted him.
    “’Tis ugly, is it not?”
    His tone was wholly matter-of-fact. It took an instant for Glenda to realize he referred to his scar. She flushed then, embarrassed that she’d been caught staring at him yet again!
    “Nay,” she said quickly, “truly it is not.” It struck her then…there was something almost sad about Egan…of course they had spoken, many a time over the years, for they sat at the table together almost nightly. They had talked about others…but never about themselves. Never had she revealed to him her thoughts or feelings or emotions…why should she, a part of her rationalized, when she hadbeen married to another? Nay, she realized vaguely, never had she been given to wonder…
    To her surprise he gave a dry, raspy chuckle. “I am lucky I’m not called Egan the One-Eared. Were it not for Ronald MacKay, I would not be here at all.”
    Glenda tipped her head to the side. “I didn’t know that. Tell me how.”
    “When I was a lad, I stole a sausage at a market fair in Inverness. The vendor did not take a liking to being robbed, and he was determined that I pay. He set out after me and caught me by the scruff of my tunic. As he pulled me back, he struck at me with a dagger. It glanced down my cheek.”
    Glenda was appalled. “How vicious! And for such a trifling item—a sausage, yet!”
    One corner of Egan’s mouth turned up. “You must understand, Glenda, ’twas hardly the first time I’d stolen from this particular vendor. In truth, I had a fondness for his sausages—and I was usually quick enough to elude him.” He paused. “Ronald chanced to be nearby and saved me from further harm.”
    “Lucky for you. Your parents must have been most grateful.”
    “My mother died when I was but a wee bairn. I have no memory of her. And my father, Marcus MacBain, seldom knew where I was. He was more often sotted than not, you see.” He shrugged. “When I was a lad of ten, I grew tired of the ache in my belly, so I left my village for Inverness. I ate much better on my own than I did waiting for my father to put food on the table.”
    Glenda blinked. “You mean you stole it?”
    “Much of the time, aye. It was either that or gohungry.” Again that matter-of-fact tone.
    So. Egan had been a thief. That, too, was something she hadn’t known. “And what of your father? He never came after you?”
    “Ah, no doubt he never even knew I was gone!”
    “But…where did you sleep?”
    “Wherever I could. If I was lucky, in a doorway. If not, beneath the open sky. In either case, as far away from the firth as I could. ’Twas cold there!”
    “And what of Ronald? Did he take you back to Dunthorpe?”
    “Aye. He

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