Bride of the Black Scot Read Free Page B

dismissed. She began to sing under her breath.
     
    “There were two
cats at Kilkenny;
    Each thought
there was one too many
    So they
quarreled and they fit,
    They scratched
and they bit.
    ’Til, excepting
their nails
    And the tips of
their tails,
    Instead of two
cats, there wasn’t any.”
     
    He turned toward her. “Did you say something?”
    “I was singing.”
    “Sing something else.”
    “As you wish.”
    He looked as if he were waiting for something. When she
remained silent, he said, “You surprise me, lass. I would have thought you had
more mettle. You offer me no challenge?”
    She recognized a master at verbal sparring. He had the
advantage for now. She would wait for a better time to even things between
them.
    “You have nothing more to say?” he asked.
    ‘The devil is seldom outshot with his own bow,” she replied.

Chapter Two
     
    Stephen watched Juliette duck into her tent. Standing beside
Angus, he saw a worried frown stretch across his friend’s ancient forehead.
    “You didna tell the lass the truth about who you are, lad,”
Angus said. “Do you think that wise?”
    “Aye…for the time being.”
    “I dinna ken what harm it would be to tell the lass the
truth. You canna keep it from her forever.”
    “No, but I can keep it from her until I am certain why she
is here.”
    “You suspect treachery from the lass?”
    Stephen turned to look at him. “We are dealing with the
English, are we not?”
    “Aye,” Angus said, nodding. “And you suspect everyone…even
the lass?”
    “Especially the lass, until I have reason not to. She may be
as innocent as we were led to believe—chosen on a whim of the king’s, a name
selected to barter, an innocent pawn in a game of politics between two
long-standing enemies. But she might also be coming for a different reason
entirely. She could be a spy for the king, sent to bring about my downfall.
I’ll no take to wife a woman who is capable of putting a knife between my
shoulders while I sleep. I have lived with treachery enough to know I can trust
no one. I will know where her loyalty lies before I tell her I am the Black
Scot.”
    “She is a comely lass,” Angus said, scratching his chin,
“and abundantly dowered.”
    “Aye,” Stephen said, “but I care far more for her loyalty
than her wealth.” As he spoke, Stephen let himself remember, his mind picking
out details—a fall of golden hair in a thick braid down a back, full breasts,
small waist, oval face, eyes so blue a man could swim in them. She was not
beautiful enough to take his breath away, but she was comely. He had a flash of
memory of her at the pool, standing in waist-deep water, her nakedness calling
out to him. Aye, her body bore the classical perfection her face did not
possess. A comely lass with a body a man could worship. If she proved to be
loyal, he would be more than satisfied.
    But Stephen had been seduced by such beauty before. Seduced
and betrayed by a woman, as had his father before him. Treachery seemed to run
in the veins of the women whom the chiefs of the Gordon clan took to wife.
    A woman’s betrayal had ended his father’s life. Stephen
himself had barely escaped death at the hands of the faithless woman he had
wed. He would not risk his heart or his life again.
    “Loyalty is worth more to me than a comely face,” he said at
last.
    Angus shrugged. “Perhaps this time you will have both.”
    “Aye, perhaps I will,” Stephen said. “Either that or I will
have neither.”
     
    A sturdy mare was brought for Juliette to ride, a surefooted
chestnut of gentle disposition, according to Angus. He gave her a boost into
the sidesaddle and rode beside her for the first part of their journey into the
darkness that lay beyond the bright fires of the English camp.
    Shortly after they mounted, Juliette noticed they aimed
their horses toward the distant mountains, where the white-globed moon hung
low, as if it was too heavy to climb higher. From time to time she stole