Sword of the Raven Read Online Free Page A

celebratory riot and her stomach flip-flopped. Stuff your tongue back in, woman. “It’s…not for a burn. I cut myself.”
    “Badly?”
    His hand shot out to grab hers, but she jerked away. “No. Just get me the supplies.” And for cripe’s sakes, put on some clothes!
     Rowan disappeared into the steam, almost instantly reappearing with a bandage and tube of ointment. For such a big guy, he moved disconcertingly fast. He waved at her to enter. “Let’s have a look.”
    “Nah, it’s nothing. I’ll take care of it in the kitchen.”
    He reluctantly surrendered the first aid supplies, and she retreated to bandage her knuckle. She finished just barely in time to rescue the fish and chips from immolation.
    Delaney slammed mismatched Fiesta dinnerware onto the tabletop, added utensils and red-checkered napkins. She used to be a decent cook—before her synapses took an unauthorized leave of absence to Scotland.
    She plunked down a pitcher of ice water. “Rowan? Dinner’s ready.”
    The bathroom door snicked open, and a barefoot, nefarious pirate sauntered to the table. She’d thought a sweatshirt and jogging pants would decently cover the guy. But the shirt molded his wide chest, the sleeves hitting him mid-forearm, and the pants— Delaney choked on her own breath. Black fleece stretched to hazardous limits that— ohmigod.
    She yanked her gaze to his face. He hadn’t dried his tousled hair, and dark stubble still shadowed his high cheekbones and chiseled jawline.
    Of course, a testosterone jockey would sneer at shaving with a pink-flowered plastic razor.
    He drew out her chair. “Lasses first.”
    Even from across the table, he smelled more mouth-wateringly delicious than the food. Fresh water and damp, warm man. Delaney hesitated. She absolutely did not want to get that close to him.
    His eyes glinted a challenge. “Aren’t you hungry?”
    She never could pass up a dare. Setting her jaw, she scooted into her seat.
    He sat opposite her and flipped his napkin across his lap. Sharp quicksilver eyes watched patiently as she served herself. Then he attacked his meal with a quiet, but ravenous intensity that left her slack-jawed.
    She was used to watching Zack and Connor and their buds chow down. She’d figured Rowan would be hungry and had cooked plenty, but holy Jurassic Park. “When was the last time you ate?”
    He chewed, swallowed his fifth sturgeon filet. “What day is it?”
    “Saturday.”
    He cocked his head. “Four days ago, then.”
    “Four days?” She gave the guy props for restraint. If she’d gone ninety-six hours without eating, she’d have displayed the table manners of a rabid wolverine. She waited until he finished what was on his plate and had dished himself another helping. “Let’s get to it, MacLachlan. How did you wind up on my beach al fresco?”
    “I…can’t exactly recall.”
    “Uh, huh.” She’d bet her vintage red GTO he remembered more than he admitted. “I’ve never seen you around Cape Hope before.” He wasn’t a man she’d forget. “Do you live nearby?”
    A pause while he consumed another muffin. “I’m not sure.”
    “You understand American slang without a problem. I don’t think you just fell off the boat from Scotland today.”
    “Figuratively, nay.” A megawatt smile transformed his face from indomitable warrior to mischievous rogue. “Literally, perhaps I did.”
    A melting, swoopy sensation tickled her insides. Sort of like eating a hot fudge sundae while riding a roller coaster. Rowan’s sexy grin hadn’t simply derailed her train of thought. It had blown up the subway.
    Delaney picked at a crispy golden filet. Stay on track. “Um…no wreckage washed ashore. Were you aboard a boat?”
    “Quite possibly.”
    “Well, you didn’t backstroke across the Pacific. What’s your job…where do you work?”
    “Depends how you define ‘work.’”
    She grimaced. “This conversation is beginning to sound like a Senate hearing.”
    “Can’t tell