The Rose and The Warrior Read Online Free

vastly amused by Roarke’s predicament.
    â€œJust see that you pull the bloody thing out straight,” muttered Roarke as Finlay released him from the tree. He lowered himself onto the ground.
    Magnus knelt beside him and placed his gnarled hand upon Roarke’s throbbing buttock. “ ’Twill be as straight and true as the shot that landed it there,” he promised.
    â€œYou mean you were actually aiming for my backside?”
    â€œDon’t be daft,” Magnus chided, grasping the arrow. “If not for these quiverin’ hands of mine, I’d have hit ye squarely in yer heart.” He jerked his hand up, releasing the shaft in a gush of blood.
    Roarke swore.
    â€œLook at that!” cried Magnus, elated. “I’ll be able to use this again!”
    â€œI’m delighted to hear it,” managed Roarke tersely. “Tomorrow you can shoot it into the other side.”
    â€œOnly if ye give me reason to.” Magnus tossed the shaft on the ground. “Now, then, let’s have a look at the damage.” He eased Roarke’s bloodied plaid up and clicked his tongue. “Well, ’tis not the worst I’ve seen, but I’m afraid ’tis going to need a stitch or two. Have no fear, lad, I’ll make it so tidy ye’ll be proud to show the scar to anyone.”
    â€œSomehow I doubt that.”
    â€œFinlay, bring me needle and thread, and a scrap of linen for mopping up the blood. And see if these lads had any ale with them,” the old man added hopefully. “Ours is all gone.”
    â€œThere is no ale,” Roarke informed him.
    Magnus sighed. “Now, that’s a sorry thing—I always stitch better when I’ve had a wee drop.”
    â€œI shall try to be better prepared next time,” promised Roarke dryly.
    Finlay returned a moment later bearing the requested items. Despite his determination to remain relaxed, Roarke found himself tensing his buttock muscles as he waited for the needle to pierce his skin. Nothing happened. Wondering what the hell the old man was waiting for, he turned his head.
    Magnus’s white brows were scrunched into one as he struggled to bring needle and thread together. Try as he might, he could not steady his shaking hands enough to see the deed done. Finally, in a moment of pure exasperation, Roarke grabbed the needle and threaded the damn thing himself.
    â€œHere,” he said, thrusting it into Magnus’s hands.
    â€œWhy, thank ye, lad. My eyes are not what they once were.” Magnus squinted at the needle, making certain he actually held the sliver of iron between his fingers, then peered down at Roarke’s wound. “This won’t take a moment,” he declared cheerfully.
    Roarke gritted his teeth and silently endured Magnus’s fumbling stitches. After what seemed an eternity of pricking and pulling, the old man finally had closed the wound to his satisfaction.
    â€œThere, now,” he said, admiring his handiwork. “I think ye’ll be most pleased.”
    â€œI’m sure it’s magnificent,” Roarke drawled sarcastically, jerking his plaid down to cover himself.
    Melantha tossed another stick onto the fire she had built. “If you’re finished, Magnus, then Finlay can bind his wrists and feet for the night.”
    Roarke yawned. “That won’t be necessary. I’m not going anywhere.”
    â€œYou’re right,” Melantha agreed, “you’re not.”
    He gave her a black look as Finlay secured his wrists and ankles.
    â€œI’ll take the watch after you, Colin,” she said, settling herself upon the ground with her sword at her side. “Wake me before you become overly tired.” She flung her arm over her eyes.
    Roarke watched as the rest of the thieves settled for the evening. Eric, Donald, and Myles lay bound a few feet away from him, regarding him intently, waiting for him to give them some sign. Roarke shook