Border Bride Read Free

teeth. "You are not an acquaintance. You're my oldest friend. And I was only jesting."
    "I'm relieved, then," he mocked and threw open the door. Shielding his eyes from the sunlight, he stepped outside. Alpin's closed carriage stood across the castle yard. A group of curious children had gathered around the conveyance. Releasing her, Malcolm turned and plunged his arms into a barrel of rainwater so cool it chilled his anger. He began scrubbing his hands. "It's nice of you to visit. You had a pleasant voyage?"
    "Visit?" Lifting her chin, she cupped her hands over her eyes to shield them from the sun. "I've come all the way from Barbados to see you, which I haven't had the opportunity to actually do, what with the darkness in there and the sunshine out here, and all you have to say is some insipid nicety before sending me off?" A sheen of tears glistened in her eyes. "I'm wounded, Malcolm. And perplexed."
    Guilt pricked his conscience. He hadn't witnessed the trouble she'd caused in Barbados, and Charles hadn't supplied the details. Malcolm believed it, though, for Alpin MacKay could turn a May fair into a bloody feud. But this snip of a woman couldn't threaten him now. Since his father's elevation to marquess of Lothian, Malcolm, as earl, ruled all of Kildalton and half of Northumberland. His enemies feared him. His clansmen respected him. Alpin MacKay, the woman, suddenly intrigued him. "I had no intention of wounding you."
    She smiled and rubbed her eyes. "I'm relieved," she said in a rush. "I have a million questions to ask you and at least that many stories of my own to bore you with. You can't believe how different Barbados is—" She stopped, her eyes wide in surprise.
    "What's amiss?" he said, thinking he'd never seen a woman with lashes so long and skin so sweetly kissed by the sun. He knew her age to be twenty-seven. She looked nineteen. Where had her freckles gone?
    "My God," she breathed, her gaze scouring his face. "You're the image of my Night Angel."
    Malcolm's admiration turned to puzzlement. "Night Angel. Who's that?"
    She stared at the old tiltyard, concentration evident in the pucker of her chin, the crease in her forehead. Then she shook her head as if clearing her thoughts. " 'Tis nothing but my memory deceiving me. Your hair's so dark and—and yet you favor Lord Duncan."
    At the mention of his father, Malcolm thought again about the misery this selfish woman had visited on everyone who had ever befriended her. But now was not the time to reveal his feelings or his plans for Alpin MacKay. Now was the time to bait a line with friendship and go fishing for her trust. "Mother would certainly agree that I favor Papa."
    "You mean Lady Miriam. How is she?"
    Thinking of the gracious woman who'd indulged his childhood fantasies and encouraged him to become his own man, Malcolm smiled. "My stepmother is still the fairest of women."
    Alpin turned to the castle entrance, excitement dancing in her unusual eyes. "Is she here?"
    "Nay. She and Papa are in Constantinople."
    "I'm disappointed. She was always kind to me. I did so want to see her. Is she still a diplomat?"
    Pride and affection warmed him. "Aye. Sultan Mahmud wants peace with Persia. He asked King George to send her."
    A sigh lifted Alpin's shoulders and drew his attention to the symmetrical planes of her collarbones and the thin gold chain that disappeared into her cleavage. "Must be grand to be so valued," she said. "Imagine the king asking favors."
    The soldiers on the wall had turned to stare. The fletcher stood in the doorway of his shop conversing with Alexander Lindsay. Passersby slowed, their curious gazes darting from their laird to his lovely visitor. Malcolm reached for a towel. "I think she would prefer a sojourn in Bath to a summer in Byzantium."
    "I prefer the Borders. It's wonderful to be home." Alpin scanned the battlements, then the castle towers. "Have you brothers and sisters?"
    Home? He considered challenging her absurd declaration, but