Free The Princess and the Rogue by Jordan St. John

blossomed, he had looked at her in a way that made her uncomfortable. It was a leer, much like the ones men directed toward voluptuous serving girls. She didn’t like being around him. She wondered if he was planning something, and if it was he who had had her kidnapped to get her out of the way. That thought made her even more anxious.
    Her main problem would be food, and very soon. She was hungry, but she had no idea how to fend for herself in the woods. Meals had always been provided for her by others. She’d had servants, cooks and lackeys, maids and footmen attending to her every need. Now she was alone. She rode on, for hours it seemed, deeper and deeper into the forest, following a faint trail. At one point she came to a fork. One way, which looked more traveled, struck out toward distant hills, the other way continued to follow the creek. She decided that people were more likely to live next to water. She followed the narrower path along the creek.
    She hadn’t been wrong. The path led to a clearing and in it stood a hut. A thin trail of smoke emerged from the chimney. A dwelling with fire inside meant someone lived there. Perhaps there was food.
    Juliet dismounted. The clearing and the hut were silent. It did not appear that anyone was around.
    “Hello!” said Juliet. “Is anyone here?” She heard nothing but crickets and the chirping of birds. Satisfied that no one was about, she stole toward the little house, and knocked gently on the door. Dead silence answered her. Still, not a soul around. She pushed the door open. It made a creaking sound, but no one rose up in alarm. She looked in. There was nobody inside.
    It was a tidy one-room hut with a fireplace that smoldered. An iron pot hung there, and from the pot came the smell of something cooking. She lifted the lid. Inside was some sort of stew and it smelled delicious. Her stomach growled. Dare she? Juliet was certainly famished. She could take just a little. Maybe the current resident wouldn’t even notice. She’d eat a little and be on her way. An earthen bowl with a spoon inside sat on a crude table. Juliet scooped out some of the stew and sat down to eat. It was delicious. Potatoes and carrots swam in some kind of broth that tasted like venison. Juliet was so preoccupied with wolfing down the stew that she never heard the door open, nor saw the two people who entered the hut.
    “See? I told you a thief had come to my dwelling. I saw her go in. And here she is, stealing my food.”
    Juliet jumped. She jerked her head toward the sound. Standing in the doorway was an old woman and someone else. The brigand from the road.
    “Well,” said the outlaw, or whatever he was. “I see we meet again.” He put his hands on his hips and regarded her with a sardonic smile.
    “You know this girl?” said the old woman.
    The brigand nodded. “Yes, Mother Theda, we’ve met, after a fashion.”
    Juliet now had time to get a good look at the man. He was tall and lithe with light sand-colored hair that fell to his shoulders. Intense grey eyes bore into hers and she shivered. He had no beard, but his chin bore some short blond stubble, as though he hacked off his facial hair every few days or so. The man wore the simple clothing of a huntsman, all browns and green. He carried a sword in a side scabbard, and a longbow was slung over his back. His face was thin, but fair to look on, with a hawkish nose and a strong jaw. Juliet decided instantly that although he was rough looking, he was handsome. And that gaze of his was disconcerting.
    “Well, the nerve of her. Stealing food from an old woman. She should be soundly thrashed.” The woman emphasized this last statement with a thump of her walking stick.
    At the same time Juliet noticed the woman eyeing her curiously, as if she were trying to remember something. The woman cocked her head and seemed about to speak, as if she remembered something, when the outlaw spoke.
    “Just a minute, mother. Before we commence with