The King's Mistress Read Free Page A

very short lives.
    She slipped a finger beneath Greer’s trembling chin so she could look into her eyes. “Dearest, you showed great courage when you realized you were with bairn and came home without anyone suspecting why. I have no doubt you can be courageous again.”
    Salty rivers coursed over Greer’s blotchy cheeks. “Oh, Gen, I’m so terribly frightened.”
    “I know, dautie, believe me, I know.”
    As her sister wept in inconsolable fashion, the cold knot of fear that had settled in Genny’s middle upon learning of her sister’s dilemma bloomed into pure black terror.
    If Greer chose to remain here or died in childbirth…
    From the moment Genny had taken her first breath, her sister had been there, waiting. Not a moment in childhood had passed that she hadn’t shared it with Greer. Then Greer had left for Edinburgh, taking the laughter and music with her. Finding joy in the mundane had proved difficult enough with Greer living so far away. Life without Greer in it was beyond comprehension, would be impossible. Greer was their light, the balance to Genny’s own darker, more plodding nature and practical sensibilities. She’d lose the very best half of herself if she ever lost Greer and would thus lose her mind, but there wasn’t a damn thing she could do. The decisions were Greer’s alone.
    “Genny, someone’s at the door.”
    Startled by the panicked note in her sister’s voice, Genny dashed tears from her own cheeks and looked about. “What’s wrong?”
    “Listen. Someone is beating on the door.”
    Someone was, and with a hammer, by the sound of it. Heaving a sigh, Genny rose and pulled off her apron. “Stay here. ’Tis likely the smithy. I asked him to make a new latch for the front door months ago, and he’s probably just gotten around to it.”
    In the parlor, Genny sniffed back the last of her tears—wouldn’t do to have a tenant see she’d been crying—smoothed her bodice and opened the door, only to gasp, finding the largest man she’d ever laid eyes upon standing on her granite stoop.
    “Good morn’, Lady Armstrong,” the armor-clad mountain barked. “His Majesty requests the pleasure of your company back in Edinburgh.”

The wise man is deceived but once. ~ Old Scottish Proverb
    Chapter Three
    Britt had never seen a lass turn so white in his life. Humph! Mayhap the lady wasn’t as enamored with Randy Sandy as His Majesty presumed. ’Twould serve him right.
    The king’s paramour wavered in the doorway, and Britt grabbed her arm, fearing she might topple. “Lady Greer, are you all right?”
    She swallowed in gulping fashion and jerked her arm away. “Fine. I’m quite fine, thank you.”
    “Excellent.” She didn’t look the least fine to him. In fact, she looked totally distraught, not to mention dowdy in her plain tunic of gray homespun and with her pale, waist-length tresses caught in a simple braid, but then she hadn’t been expecting him. “May I come in?”
    Her right hand flew to the long white column of her throat. “In?”
    “Aye, inside. ”
    “Oh. Aye, please come in.”
    “Thank you.” He stepped over the threshold as Lady Greer scurried backward, her cornflower-blue eyes growing as huge as tankard tops, her gaze raking him from boots to hair roots as if she’d never set eyes on him before. Knowing that not to be the case, he tensed and immediately scanned the whitewashed room and the open sleeping loft above for an intruder. Hand on the hilt of his sword, he murmured for her ears alone, “Is something amiss, my lady?”
    “No!” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I’m simply surprised to be summoned…so soon.”
    “Ah.” He relaxed his stance. “His Majesty trusts that whatever crisis took you from his side is now resolved?” The queen had not deemed it necessary to tell anyone why Lady Greer had gone home.
    “They died.”
    He scowled at her. “I beg your pardon? Who died?”
    “Father and Mother. Both of them.”
    “Oh. My deepest