Free Entwined by Kristen Callihan Page B

hauled himself up as she got to her feet and dashed up the stairs. His head spun and his stomach pitched as he stumbled after her.
    “Lu, wait.” God, but his heart pounded.
    She was nearly to the outer door, her tumbled-down hair streaming out behind her and her dress marred with mud.
    “Lu.” He grabbed her arm and tried to be gentle as he pulled her back. She wasn’t having any of it. With a guttural cry, she wrenched her knee up between his legs. The only things that saved him were quick reflexes and a man’s instinctive drive to protect his cods at all costs. Pain shafted through his thigh and he grunted, but he didn’t let go.
    “Stop, Bit. Just stop.” He wrapped an arm about her and hauled her against him. “I’m not going to hurt you, Bit. Never. Never.”
    Something of his words got through to her for she stilled, her small frame heaving against his, and her breath heating the hollow of his neck.
    Slowly, he stroked her hair and slim back. “Calm, Bit. Calm.”
    When she shuddered to stillness, he eased back a touch and looked down at her pale face. “If you’re going to attack a man, love, punch him in the throat or go for his eyes before you knee him in the stone, eh?”
    When she eyed his throat, he laughed. “Please don’t. I’ve had my share of blows for the night, thank you.”
    Now that he’d eased her fright, the pain in his head came back with pounding, insistent force.
    “You’re bleeding,” she said as she reached out with a tentative hand to touch just above his left temple.
    “Someone nearly bashed my head in.”
    Her cool fingers feathered over his skin, and he relaxed a bit more. “Who would do such a thing?”
    He had a good idea, not that he’d involve her when the bastard had resorted to violence. “I don’t know. Perhaps a vagabond looking for food or a warm place to pass the night. I must have surprised him.”
    With utmost gentleness, she brushed her fingertips through his hair, and he barely suppressed a shiver. Lu didn’t notice but frowned at the lump just over his temple. “A few inches down and he might have killed you.” A shudder went through her, and Eamon was base enough to be glad for her concern.
    “I’m hard to kill,” he quipped, and she nearly smiled, save the cellar door caught her attention and she went stiff. Eamon tightened his grip once more, lest she try to flee. “Let me explain before you have a go at me, Lu.”
    “I know what I saw.” She eyed him with wariness. “What possible good reason can you have for keeping human body parts in your cellar?”
    Eamon sagged and let her go, stepping back a pace. “God, I know it looks bad. It’s foul work, and I cannot say I enjoy that part of it.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing when he hit a tender spot. Ignoring the pain, he moved to the worktable at the center of the room. “I’m making false limbs, Bit.”
    “Limbs,” she repeated as though he were a lunatic. Which was understandable. Most people would think that.
    Eamon reached under the table and pulled out a long, thin box that held his first model. “Human limbs of steel.” Setting the box down, he opened the lid as Lu edged near.
    She held herself out of striking distance as she peered into the box. Eamon lifted the steel leg out of the box and set it before her. “This was my working model. I improved upon it since then.”
    Slowly, she came closer, and with a tentative hand, she touched the leg that was shaped in the exact likeness of a human skeletal limb. “Why would you do this?”
    “I take it you met Harry, our head groom?”
    She nodded.
    “Did you notice his limp?”
    “Yes, it’s slight but I did see it.” The dark wings of her brows drew together. “Are you telling me that he has one of these artificial limbs?”
    “I am.” Eamon ran his hand along the cool, steel femur. “He lost it to gangrene a few years back. When his spirits began to flag, I made him a leg. I don’t know, I thought, perhaps if