edged with annoyance.
Patience answered honestly. “I do not know if pecks on the lips could be considered kisses, but I experienced a few of those when I was young and the lads I would practice my sword fighting with began to look at me differently. The only other kiss I ever experienced...” She shook her head, and then went on to explain what happened with the warrior whose kiss had been anything but pleasant.
Hunter laughed, though anger stirred beneath his humor. Patience may not have known it, but that warrior had more in mind than just stealing a kiss.
“I must admit I was curious to see how a kiss would feel, but he had been a fool to even think I would let it go any further, or that he would be able to force me. Practicing on the sword field with the lads had given me a keen insight to a man’s anatomy and what parts were most vulnerable.”
He should have known she was aware of what the situation might have brought, but did she realize the same tactic might not always fit the situation? “You may not always be able to reach those parts.”
“I am not a fool,” Patience said with a tilt of her chin. “I have learned other ways to disarm a man and have had practice doing so.”
“Other men have tried to force themselves on you?’
Patience was surprised by the sudden anger in his voice, but then he had always charmed women. There were some men who knew nothing of charm and others who only knew how to take.
“They learned their mistakes soon enough,” she assured him.
After a moment of silence, and having turned his eyes on the road, he said, “Patience.”
She turned to him and waited and almost jumped when he snapped his head around.
“No man will ever bother you now that you are married to me and if one dared to try, I would dispatch him to hell where he belongs.”
Patience was taken aback by the fierce anger in his voice and the smoldering anger in his eyes. It was unexpected, though if his brothers possessed angry streaks, so then why not him? It seemed there was much she did not know about her husband, but it would be wise of her to find out.
Conversation ceased for a while between Patience and Hunter, each appearing lost in their individual thoughts. It was Hunter who finally broke the silence.
“How is your arm?” he asked.
She saw no reason to lie to him. “It pains now and again and reminds me it is still healing when I brush against it. There is naught to be done for it except to give it time.”
“You have healing skills too?” he asked surprised.
Patience laughed, shaking her head. “Not me, my sister Emma, though she taught me some fundamental care for injures associated with battle.”
“I recall hearing that one of the Macinnes sisters was well versed in healing ways.”
“Emma is the knowledgeable one between the three of us. She learns all she can about whatever she can. She would worry me near to death when she would take off into the woods on her own. She would not return for hours and when she did it was with a basketful plus an armful of foliage. And then there is the way she senses the soil, knowing when it is lacking, hungry, or ripe for planting. She is amazing.”
“You envy her?”
Patience laughed and shook her head. “There is no envy between my sisters and me, only admiration and love. We are the same, yet we are different, if you can understand that.” She did not give him a chance to respond. She did what he had the habit of doing, she abruptly changed the subject. “With so few having seen the Dark Dragon that would mean he could visit the McCuil croft and no one would know it was him.”
Hunter found Patience an interesting woman. She was intelligent, perceptive, a skilled warrior, and fiercely independent. She did what had to be done without much complaint, and she was not only loyal to her clan, she cared about them. She was, in many ways, unique.
“The question would be... why would he? Why risk exposing his identity?”
“To see
Patience answered honestly. “I do not know if pecks on the lips could be considered kisses, but I experienced a few of those when I was young and the lads I would practice my sword fighting with began to look at me differently. The only other kiss I ever experienced...” She shook her head, and then went on to explain what happened with the warrior whose kiss had been anything but pleasant.
Hunter laughed, though anger stirred beneath his humor. Patience may not have known it, but that warrior had more in mind than just stealing a kiss.
“I must admit I was curious to see how a kiss would feel, but he had been a fool to even think I would let it go any further, or that he would be able to force me. Practicing on the sword field with the lads had given me a keen insight to a man’s anatomy and what parts were most vulnerable.”
He should have known she was aware of what the situation might have brought, but did she realize the same tactic might not always fit the situation? “You may not always be able to reach those parts.”
“I am not a fool,” Patience said with a tilt of her chin. “I have learned other ways to disarm a man and have had practice doing so.”
“Other men have tried to force themselves on you?’
Patience was surprised by the sudden anger in his voice, but then he had always charmed women. There were some men who knew nothing of charm and others who only knew how to take.
“They learned their mistakes soon enough,” she assured him.
After a moment of silence, and having turned his eyes on the road, he said, “Patience.”
She turned to him and waited and almost jumped when he snapped his head around.
“No man will ever bother you now that you are married to me and if one dared to try, I would dispatch him to hell where he belongs.”
Patience was taken aback by the fierce anger in his voice and the smoldering anger in his eyes. It was unexpected, though if his brothers possessed angry streaks, so then why not him? It seemed there was much she did not know about her husband, but it would be wise of her to find out.
Conversation ceased for a while between Patience and Hunter, each appearing lost in their individual thoughts. It was Hunter who finally broke the silence.
“How is your arm?” he asked.
She saw no reason to lie to him. “It pains now and again and reminds me it is still healing when I brush against it. There is naught to be done for it except to give it time.”
“You have healing skills too?” he asked surprised.
Patience laughed, shaking her head. “Not me, my sister Emma, though she taught me some fundamental care for injures associated with battle.”
“I recall hearing that one of the Macinnes sisters was well versed in healing ways.”
“Emma is the knowledgeable one between the three of us. She learns all she can about whatever she can. She would worry me near to death when she would take off into the woods on her own. She would not return for hours and when she did it was with a basketful plus an armful of foliage. And then there is the way she senses the soil, knowing when it is lacking, hungry, or ripe for planting. She is amazing.”
“You envy her?”
Patience laughed and shook her head. “There is no envy between my sisters and me, only admiration and love. We are the same, yet we are different, if you can understand that.” She did not give him a chance to respond. She did what he had the habit of doing, she abruptly changed the subject. “With so few having seen the Dark Dragon that would mean he could visit the McCuil croft and no one would know it was him.”
Hunter found Patience an interesting woman. She was intelligent, perceptive, a skilled warrior, and fiercely independent. She did what had to be done without much complaint, and she was not only loyal to her clan, she cared about them. She was, in many ways, unique.
“The question would be... why would he? Why risk exposing his identity?”
“To see
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