The Runaway Highlander (The Highland Renegades Book 2) Read Online Free

a close distance. Arm’s length distance.
    “What is it?”
    “A bundle of bandages, for the road.”
    He caught her wrist as she squeezed past him. “For what?”
    She lifted the bloodied rag from his wound and replaced it with a clean shirt. Thankfully, it didn’t soak through with blood as quickly as she’d expected it might.
    “For the road,” she repeated. “Because we have a new plan, and I don’t think you’re going to like it very much.”
    *****
    Aedan’s arms were so full of supplies he imagined they might need, he fumbled for a moment or two with the door before he could get it open. He should have just left it open in the first place, and likely would have, if he hadn’t been so concerned about what ideas the Sheriff’s men might have gotten if they’d come across Anne de Cheyne without him there to protect her.
    Whatever Highland hill she’d been born on, he was certain it was nothing like the danger and bus tle of the city. Especially one ruled by a corrupt magistrate with Simon Alcock’s history.
    Naiveté was only so appealing before it became dangerous, and in a place like this, innocence could get you killed. Or worse.
    Aedan needed to extricate himself from her as quickly as he was able. Just this door and a few stitches, and he’d be free of her.
    The door latch gave a heavy click when he finally managed enough leverage to force it to open. The storage room was darker than the hallway and it took him a minute to adjust.
    A pile of white linen rolls sat on the table. Thankfully, she’d found more because the two he’d managed to scrounge up wouldn’t be enough to wrap a man fully. Anne stood in the same posture and place she’d been when he left. Leaning against the table, holding what looked like a clean cloth to William’s side.
    The blood-soaked remains of the shirt lay at her feet. Aedan shifted the mess to the wall with the edge of his boot, trying to keep the blood away from her dress. On one of the empty shelves, he set down the bowl of hot water, the knives, the needle and thread, and the two rolls of linen strips.
    “I think the bleeding has stopped.” Anne removed the mostly clean cloth from the wound and showed it to him, looking up for approval.
    He almost smiled. Something about the turn up of her eyes reminded him of Brighde. Perhaps that was what made him trust her, as well. A childlike desire for his approval had endeared his sister to him from the moment she’d opened her eyes. His heart warmed at the memory and he found one corner of his mouth turning upward of its own volition.
    “That’s good news.” His gruff tone erased the Brighde-esque moment from her face and solidified her requisite determination. He still couldn’t decide what had so set her mind toward this task, but she was fierce in her persistence.
    She passed him the cloth and looked over the contents of his offering. She wrinkled her nose for the shortest of moments, but smoothed her face into a smile.
    “I suppose you’ll have to help me,” she said.
    Aedan marveled at the shift in her demeanor. One moment, familiar and almost intimate, like… family… and the next moment, the valor of noblesse, and a steeled indifference. Strange woman.
    “Indeed. Where would you like to begin?”
    She crinkled her mouth to one side and looked up. There was the look of his sister again. Unguarded. That was it. No one ever allowed themselves to be unguarded in his presence. He blamed his scar for that.
    “Let me pour just a bit of this water over the wound and then I think I’ll have you—” she stopped and closed her eyes for a moment, “hold the wound closed so it will be easier for me to sew it.”
    Aedan glanced down at William, poor man. He lay still with his eyes closed, his jaw set against whatever might come. Aedan admired the man. He was almost certain that William was a good man. Indeed, if there hadn’t been such a price on his head—on all the heads of the de Moray rebels—Aedan might