Jillian Hart (22 page)
Authors: Maclain's Wife
Nor would he. He could not help her. He would do as she asked. Perhaps he would find a way to offer his help at a later time. If she would accept it.
Bran rode on, against his better judgment. With every step of his stallion down the lane, Bran's troubled mind filled with thoughts of her—thoughts of the sad-eyed woman and her stalwart concern for her lowborn maid.
His heart squeezed, as if he harbored feelings for her, for ungrateful Gwyneth of Blackthorne. Yet he remembered the young girl who laughed in the orchards, tripping over her skirts, her voice sweet, like summer sunshine.
He would ask questions about her later, learn what he could. But now . . . his gaze drifted ahead of him, to the road of stone and dirt, then beyond to the forest of trees and fern.
He had grave fears this night His father lay dying. Bran's courage faltered. What awaited him at Blackthorne Keep? He had traveled far to beg for the right to see the old man. Much too far to be tossed aside yet again, the bastard son of a long-forgotten leman.
All the respect he'd earned by his sword had little altered his father's opinion of him. Bran spurred his stallion into a canter. There, along the crest of the hill, loomed the keep, dark and distinctly manmade against the gentle rolling forms of vale and hill.
The wind kicked up from the north, hard as a gale, and yet it was not as cold as the trepidation licking his spine.
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About the Author
Jillian Hart makes her home in Washington State, where she has lived most of her life. When Jillian is not writing away on her next book, she can be found reading, going to lunch with friends and spending quiet evenings at home with her family.
