Amanda Scott by Knights Treasure

oui.
Doubtless you will not credit it, but the worst of that fog ends at the ridge top or as near as makes no difference to a goshawk. Goshawks, you see, unlike most birds of prey, are excellent hunters in wooded areas.”
    Adela stood silent, trying to match his light, accented voice to the deeper, decidedly firmer, unaccented one she had heard in the darkness the previous night.
    Although she had been certain she would recognize that voice wherever she heard it again, she could detect no likeness. But if the man on the castle ramparts had not been Etienne de Gredin, who else could he possibly have been? Perhaps the chevalier was simply more adept at disguising his voice than anyone might expect.
    “Have I said something to offend you, Lady Ardelve?” he asked gently.
    Driven by uncustomary curiosity, Adela said, “Doubtless you will think such a question unmannerly, sir, but her ladyship indicated that you were not French by birth. So I
was
wondering about your title and … and your accent …” She hesitated, fearing she was truly crossing the line between politeness and the lack of it.
    He flashed his charming smile again, saying, “
Mais non, madame
, my title was given me when I was a child attending my father at the French court. My unfortunate accent is no more than a result of habit and a recent visit to Paris. Does it distress you? I confess—I who perhaps should not—that the ladies of his grace’s court find it most charming. I regret that you do not, because one desires to make a good impression with the so-famously-beautiful Macleod sisters. If it annoys you,” he added archly, “I shall exert myself to speak as a proper Scots-man does.”
    “Sakes, sir, mind your manners,” Sorcha said before Adela could reply. “My sister is not yet two days a widow. Would you dare to flirt with her?”
    Instantly remorseful, he said, “Lady Ardelve, I implore you to forgive me. I am desolated to think my thoughtlessness may have caused you pain. I desired no more than to see you smile and perhaps to offer you simple friendship. I meant no offense to you either, Lady Robison. Have I stepped beyond all forgiveness?”
    “No, of course not,” Adela said, noting his reference to friendship but observing Hugo’s approach with relief nonetheless. Impulsively, she said, “A person needs friends, sir. I hope you will become one of ours.”
    “To be sure, I will if you will but smile at me now and assure me, both of you, that you have forgiven me.”
    “Pray, do not be absurd, sir,” Sorcha said. “It would take more than unintentional rudeness to put you beyond forgiveness. But I hope you do not mean to tease my sister for smiles merely to please yourself.”
    “I won’t, but if you need a friend, Lady Adela, I am yours to command.”
    He would clearly have said more, but Hugo joined them, saying with a sharp look at de Gredin, “The countess sent me to conduct you all to the table so they can begin to serve.”
    “Where’s Henry?” Sorcha asked him.
    “Gone back to Edinburgh with everyone else,” Hugo said. “Since the King returned, Henry has been enjoying himself at court too much to want to stay here for long. But come now or I’ll have my aunt handing me my head in my lap.”
    Sorcha chuckled, tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and with a rueful smile said to Adela, “I suppose we should go. We’ll talk more later if you like.”
    “We’re going back to Hawthornden in the morning,” Hugo said. “I hope you mean to visit us again before we leave for the Isles next week.”
    Her thoughts jumped to Einar Logan and the dreadful fate Hugo and the unseen man had planned for him. A vague nod of assent was all she could manage without revealing her knowledge to Hugo. But they had reached the dais, making it natural for her to look away from him as she stepped onto it.
    Before good manners could force her to turn back to expand upon the nod, Isabella said, “I hope you had a good rest this