Border Lord Read Free Page A

eyes. "He could be a cousin of sorts."
    "I wouldn't think so. He leads a clan of Lowlanders. I don't imagine they have any ties to the Stewarts—on either side of the blanket." Realizing the slight, Miriam rushed to say, "Oh, do forgive me, Lexie."
    Alexis waved her hand in dismissal. "'Twas nothing. What's the fellow's name?"
    "Duncan Armstrong Kerr, the earl of Kildalton."
    "Sounds very Scottish… and promising. Has he a countess?"
    "Not anymore. He's widowed, according to the innkeeper back in Bothly Green."
    "Very promising indeed, my dear."
    Miriam had to shield her eyes from the setting sun to see her friend's face. "For you, me, or the negotiations?"
    Alexis wagged her finger. "You, of course." Then she gazed at the rolling hills and rocky terrain. "Perhaps Sir Lancelot waits o'er yonder hill. Him or the legendary Border Lord they spoke of in Bothly Green. Then you'd be preoccupied with matters of the heart. A legend could sweep you off your feet, beguile you with poetry, and cart you away to his bower of love."
    At the edge of her vision, Miriam saw Verbatim perched on the hill in question, her long tail arched over her back, her nose in the air. The animal had scented something. She whined in fright.
    "Wait here." Miriam kicked her horse into a canter and raced up the hill. At the summit, she gasped, and flooded her lungs with the biting odor of stale smoke.
    In the glen below stood the charred timbers and hearthstone of what had been a crofter's hut. On the periphery of the blackened field she saw a freshly mounded grave. She slumped, wondering if the destruction had been the result of a carelessly banked fire or a consequence of the trouble she was here to settle.
    If the latter was true, she'd need more than diplomatic flummery to bring about a peace. She conjured a picture of Duncan Armstrong Kerr, and saw a gouty, stubborn Scotsman who would challenge her expertise and try to bully her into taking his side.
    But the man she encountered an hour later challenged her in a different way.
    Standing in the common room of Kildalton Castle, Miriam was reminded of Louis XIV's least gifted fool the day he had once again failed to amuse his sovereign.
    Pity and confusion overwhelmed her.
    Dressed in a waistcoat and knee breeches of forest green velvet, a crimped and powdered wig aslant on his head, and spectacles thicker than church glass perched on his nose, the man looked more like a disheveled jester than the lord of the keep.
    "Have you brought the peacocks?" he said, hope dancing in green eyes that were distorted by the lenses.
    "The peacocks," she repeated, stalling for enough time to form a reasonable reply.
    Behind her, Alexis coughed to hide a giggle. Saladin and Salvador stood frozen, their mouths open, their eyes as large as the earl's.
    To Lexie, she pointedly said, "You'll want to warm yourself by the fire. Take the twins with you."
    Alexis nodded and led the boys to the far side of the room.
    Turning back, Miriam said, "Where were we?"
    "The peacocks. They haven't molted, have they?" he asked in the clipped speech of a scholar. "If so, I hope you brought the creatures anyway." He held up a contraption of orange-brown feathers attached to a hook. "Can't catch a fish with a pheasant. These are as useless as another coal in Newcastle."
    For some reason, he laughed. His wig jiggled and shed a handful of gray powder on the rounded shoulders of his waistcoat. Then he took a faltering step toward her.
    That's when she noticed his shoes; they were on the wrong feet.
    Through a shroud of compassion for the poor fellow, she dredged up her kindest tone. "You've mistaken me for someone else, my lord." Executing a perfect curtsy, she said, "I haven't brought you peacocks."
    Frowning, he poked the contraption into his pocket, but when he withdrew his hand, the hook clung to his finger. He shook his hand, but to no avail. Finally, he plucked the hook free. Grunting, he clapped it on his sleeve. "You're travelers. How