her face.
Turning, she saw that Kelvin was seated beside her younger brother Torquil. As a companion, Torquil was only marginally more suitable than this irritating Dugald fellow. She'd have to look into that relationship before someone found a mouse in her pallet or a frog in his soup. After all, Torquil had not yet gained her outstanding maturity.
Faces turned toward her as she picked up the psaltery. Twas a pretty instrument, crafted from etched rosewood and oiled sinew, and it would look so fine with Dugald's head sticking out of the middle, with splinters bursting away from his ears and strings twanged cozily around his neck. She nearly sighed at the images. But suddenly her father cleared his throat.
No subtlety whatsoever.
She hummed a few notes, plucked a string or two, and began to sing.
The hall fell silent. The ballad rolled away from her in undulating hills and valleys of sound. In truth, her voice was nothing special, but she had a gift for emotion, and she used it now, hoping her father would forget about wayward breeches and billowing clouds of pepper. The notes rose higher, brimming with feeling, the strength of hope, the desperation of love, the...
But suddenly the whisper of a noise rattled Shona's concentration. She stopped, letting the climactic finish hold on her breath, then, "Rachel!" she whispered, and abandoning her instrument, flew across the hall and through the arched doors. She paused on the stone steps and stared toward the drawbridge. Hoofbeats echoed for a moment then a horse emerged past the entrance.
"Rachel," she said again, and ran across the courtyard.
The person who appeared was not her ebon-haired cousin, but a large dark man accompanied by a petite flame-haired lady. Not for a moment did Shona delay. Instead, she hiked up her skirts and sped toward them all the faster. By the time she reached the first horse, Rachel had emerged.
"Cousin!" They were in each other's arms in an instant.
Dugald reached the doorway of the great hall just in time to see Lady Sara join the pair. They stood huddled together in bright shades of beauty, their arms wrapped about each other with sweet intimacy.
But Shona was not sweet, Dugald reminded himself. She was manipulative. She was cunning.
And she had access to the king. He must delay no longer. And yet...
Her laughter lifted on a soft breeze and found his ears with unerring accuracy. Emotion speared through him, but he steeled himself to it. Shona MacGowan was not a victim of any sort, and neither her guileless laughter nor her soft beauty would convince him otherwise. She was no oversized lop-eared horse he could save from an infuriated master who had felt the sting of the beast's teeth too often. In fact, she needed his protection no more than a wolf needed a dagger and sheath. So she held no allure for him.
Still, if the truth be told, he had never seen such beauty gathered in one spot. Three lassies as lovely as spring with hair of seemingly every hue, red as flame, black as ebon and gold as sunshine.
But he was no fool for a bonny face. He would do what he must. He just needed a bit more time to figure things out...learn more about her. Tremayne had said she was vain and self-centered, and that it was far more than coincidental that she had been present during the first attempt on the young king's life.
But if she was a cold hearted murderess as Tremayne said, why would she go thrashing about in icy water just to catch fish for her father's supper? And what about Kelvin? Why would she foster such a ragamuffin boy, who obviously had no earthly possessions and reminded him disturbingly of himself?
Twas questions such as those that plagued him. Twas questions such as those that he would learn the answers to, but just now he had better concentrate on the matter at hand.
With some regret, Dugald turned his gaze from the trio of women to the man who had arrived first. Leith, the Forbes of the Forbes. His reputation proceeded him. But why
Turning, she saw that Kelvin was seated beside her younger brother Torquil. As a companion, Torquil was only marginally more suitable than this irritating Dugald fellow. She'd have to look into that relationship before someone found a mouse in her pallet or a frog in his soup. After all, Torquil had not yet gained her outstanding maturity.
Faces turned toward her as she picked up the psaltery. Twas a pretty instrument, crafted from etched rosewood and oiled sinew, and it would look so fine with Dugald's head sticking out of the middle, with splinters bursting away from his ears and strings twanged cozily around his neck. She nearly sighed at the images. But suddenly her father cleared his throat.
No subtlety whatsoever.
She hummed a few notes, plucked a string or two, and began to sing.
The hall fell silent. The ballad rolled away from her in undulating hills and valleys of sound. In truth, her voice was nothing special, but she had a gift for emotion, and she used it now, hoping her father would forget about wayward breeches and billowing clouds of pepper. The notes rose higher, brimming with feeling, the strength of hope, the desperation of love, the...
But suddenly the whisper of a noise rattled Shona's concentration. She stopped, letting the climactic finish hold on her breath, then, "Rachel!" she whispered, and abandoning her instrument, flew across the hall and through the arched doors. She paused on the stone steps and stared toward the drawbridge. Hoofbeats echoed for a moment then a horse emerged past the entrance.
"Rachel," she said again, and ran across the courtyard.
The person who appeared was not her ebon-haired cousin, but a large dark man accompanied by a petite flame-haired lady. Not for a moment did Shona delay. Instead, she hiked up her skirts and sped toward them all the faster. By the time she reached the first horse, Rachel had emerged.
"Cousin!" They were in each other's arms in an instant.
Dugald reached the doorway of the great hall just in time to see Lady Sara join the pair. They stood huddled together in bright shades of beauty, their arms wrapped about each other with sweet intimacy.
But Shona was not sweet, Dugald reminded himself. She was manipulative. She was cunning.
And she had access to the king. He must delay no longer. And yet...
Her laughter lifted on a soft breeze and found his ears with unerring accuracy. Emotion speared through him, but he steeled himself to it. Shona MacGowan was not a victim of any sort, and neither her guileless laughter nor her soft beauty would convince him otherwise. She was no oversized lop-eared horse he could save from an infuriated master who had felt the sting of the beast's teeth too often. In fact, she needed his protection no more than a wolf needed a dagger and sheath. So she held no allure for him.
Still, if the truth be told, he had never seen such beauty gathered in one spot. Three lassies as lovely as spring with hair of seemingly every hue, red as flame, black as ebon and gold as sunshine.
But he was no fool for a bonny face. He would do what he must. He just needed a bit more time to figure things out...learn more about her. Tremayne had said she was vain and self-centered, and that it was far more than coincidental that she had been present during the first attempt on the young king's life.
But if she was a cold hearted murderess as Tremayne said, why would she go thrashing about in icy water just to catch fish for her father's supper? And what about Kelvin? Why would she foster such a ragamuffin boy, who obviously had no earthly possessions and reminded him disturbingly of himself?
Twas questions such as those that plagued him. Twas questions such as those that he would learn the answers to, but just now he had better concentrate on the matter at hand.
With some regret, Dugald turned his gaze from the trio of women to the man who had arrived first. Leith, the Forbes of the Forbes. His reputation proceeded him. But why
Similar Books
