Free Midnight Whispers - Paranormal Romance by Catherine Bullard Page B

way out here in
your condition. That leg needs to heal.”
    Jake grinned.
“I wanted to see you, but… oh,” he groaned. “I think I need to sit down for a
bit.”
    Kyra took one
of his arms and allowed him to lean some of his weight on her. “You’re a fool,”
she scolded, a smile tugging at her lips as they made their way across the
field.
    “Well of
course I am.” Jake chuckled. “A fool for you.”
     
    ****
     “Got
waylaid yesterday?” Bryce asked as he met Kyra at the village entrance.
    She nodded.
“A friend of mine. He was in a bad accident the other day.” And had used it to
trap her into an afternoon of cards with not only him, but his siblings as
well. She’d learned to play Whist and Cribbage, and had even won a few hands of
the latter, though the men had teased her, saying that it was a good thing they
weren’t playing for money or she would have been cleaned out.
    “I’m sorry to
hear that.” Bryce took her hand and inhaled, expecting her sweet scent. He
frowned when it came to him mixed with another, darker scent—a man’s
scent. It must have been her friend she was talking about, and he was surprised
to find his hackles rising; he didn’t like it one bit. Something in the back of
his mind niggled, but he suspected his emotions were simply a product of the
mating bond, and he brushed it off.
    “Everything
is very quiet today,” Kyra murmured, looking around. There were few people
outside, and yet she felt as if there were many more eyes on her. She caught a
glimpse of someone peeking at her through a curtained window before the person
pulled back, the curtains concealing them with a swish of floral-patterned
cloth.
    “Does your
village ever have to go into town to buy supplies?”
    Bryce
blinked, looking down. “Why do you ask?”
    Kyra pointed
at the curtains. “The pattern on those curtains is very modern—it looks
like perhaps something bought in a merchant’s store rather than woven by hand.”
    Bryce
laughed. “My sister, Leah, would be pleased to hear you say that. She is the
town seamstress and weaver, and most likely made the cloth for those. But we
very rarely go into town for anything unless it is an item we absolutely cannot
make on our own. We prefer to be self-sufficient. And the less frequent are
trips, the less likely anyone can follow us back and discover our location.”
    Kyra nodded.
“If your sister truly can do such things with her own two hands, I think I
would like to meet her.”
    “I was just
going to take you to her.”
    Leah’s cabin
was only three buildings away from Bryce’s, and Kyra could already tell from
the outside that it belonged to a woman—the scent of baking bread wafting
out from one of the open windows, the potted flowers in the sills and by the
door, and the frilly curtains. Windows of a house were like the eyes of a
human—you could look at or into them and see the soul residing within.
    Bryce stepped
up and, placing Kyra slightly behind him, knocked on the door. It opened only
seconds later to reveal a small, slender woman with dark, curly hair pulled
back from a pretty face. Her eyes, the same brilliant green as her brother’s,
smiled warmly at him, then turned curious as they settled on Kyra. She wore a
dress only a few shades lighter than her hair that was covered with an apron.
    “Bryce.” Leah
wrapped her arms around him, and Kyra noticed that her sleeves had been rolled
up to the elbows—likely to avoid coating them in the flour that dusted
her hands. The exposed forearms were slender, but also muscular, and Kyra
imagined that Leah was probably a woman who could handle herself in an attack.
Bryce hugged her back gently, not seeming to care that his shoulders were being
dusted with flour. “It’s nice of you to stop by, and to bring your mate too.”
    “I’m not his
mate,” Kyra blurted out before she could stop herself—she didn’t know
why, but it seemed important for her to make that clear. “Or, at least not