Silver Flame. Hannah Howell

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ ye, mistress. Allow me to present myself and my companions. I am Sir Gamel and these are my brother, Ligulf, my squire, Blane, and my good friend, Sir Lesley.”

      Nodding her head, she replied, “Catriona, Beldane, Barre, and Farthing Magnus. Ye are welcome to share this place with us. There is food to spare. See to your mounts while I see to this fool.” She began to help Farthing to stand up.

      By the time they were all settled around the fire Gamel felt more composed. He could not, however, stop watching her. She had the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen. Her voice sent his thoughts winging straight to the bedchamber. The way she moved made his loins ache. He wanted her, faster and with more ferocity than he had ever wanted a woman before. He could not cease wondering if she was the one he had searched for so long and hard.

      Then his heart clenched in his chest. She was already claimed by the man, Farthing, whose name she had so calmly linked with her own. She and her man had offered the hospitality of their fire and food. To make any attempt to satisfy his want would be an insult he could not inflict even if it took every ounce of willpower he could muster not to. He sat wondering what color her hair was, wishing she would shed that all-encompassing headdress.

      Only once did he look at Farthing Magnus. That man sat struggling to regain some sobriety, yet watching him closely. The look in Farthing’s black eyes told Gamel the man could read his desire and saw it as a threat.

      Carefully pronouncing each word, Farthing told Sine Catriona, “I was celebrating.”

      “So ye have told us. Celebrating what?”

      “A number of things. ’Tis hard to recall now.”

      She laughed softly. “Ye ken that ye have no head for drink.”

      “S’truth.” Farthing ran a hand through his thick raven-black hair. “Howbeit, I couldnae let those dogs know it.”

      “Oh, aye, of course not. And of course they didnae see how cup-shotten ye were.”

      “I think they may have guessed.” His fine mouth curving downward as he frowned, he added, “Could be why they offered to bind me atop my horse so I wouldnae tumble off.”

      As soon as everyone stopped laughing, Ligulf asked, “Do ye travel to the fair?”

      “Aye,” replied Sine Catriona. “This mon swaying before ye is Farthing Magnus, master conjurer. Howbeit, he will be unable to perform any of his craft tonight. ’Tis doubtful he could even relieve himself without fumbling,” she muttered.

      “That I can do, impertinent wench, and will do immediately—if the lads will but lead me to the bushes.”

      As Dane and Ree helped Farthing to his feet, Ree grumbled, “’Tis verra likely we shall have to fix his aim as weel.”

      Sine Catriona could not help but join in the laughter. But hers was short-lived, choked off when her eyes met Gamel’s. She fought to break free of the man’s gaze. There was such desire in his rich green eyes that it frightened her, especially when she felt something within her respond strongly and swiftly to it. She was intensely aware of every tall, lean inch of him. The moment Farthing returned to sprawl at her side, she huddled closer to him. She watched Sir Gamel’s fine long-fingered hands clench tightly when Farthing threw his arm about her shoulders.

      “Ye have two fine sons, sir,” Gamel remarked.

      “Ah.” Farthing smiled at the twins. “Not my lads, although I often think of them as so. They are Catriona’s half brothers.”

      “We are bastards, sir,” Dane piped up. “So is Farthing.”

      Giving a small bow of his head, Gamel drawled, “There are many of us about.”

      Sine Catriona inwardly sighed, her heart sinking as disappointment set in. She had briefly wondered if he could be the knight she had been searching for. He looked strong, capable. However, as a bastard, he would not command a troop of men no matter what his position in his father’s household, not if there were other legitimate sons. Bastards did not often have the strength or the power she needed so badly. If they had, Farthing could have helped her long ago, for his natural father was a wealthy and powerful laird.

      A small part of her was glad of Gamel’s lack of suitability. She feared what might flare between them if they were together for very long. Passion was a complication she simply could not afford.

      “Your name is an odd one,” Gamel said, looking inquisitively at Farthing.

      “’Twas my mother’s choice. She said it was what it cost my father to make me.” Farthing smiled faintly at the shock the men could not fully conceal. “The sting of that eased many years ago.” He yawned, then said, “To bed, my sweet Catriona. Ye as weel, lads. To your blankets,” he ordered the twins, then looked at Gamel. “Ye, kind sirs, are most welcome to sit by the fire as long as ye wish. Ye willnae disturb us.”

      “Nay,” Gamel replied. “We will bed down now as weel. We must rise at dawn. If we start out too late we will be forced to spend yet another night in the wood. I hope ye sleep with your sword at your side.”

      “Aye, I do,” Farthing said. “These woods are rife with thieves who would cut your throat just to ease their theft of your purse.”

      It was not easy but Sine Catriona hid a smile. For a thief like Farthing to speak so disparagingly of thieves was a little amusing. However, she knew that Farthing’s words were heartfelt. He had only scorn for those who could not or would not lighten a purse without hurting the owner. Farthing considered them the worst of all thieves.

      She spread their blankets out close to the fire. One brief, sharp glance from Farthing had told her that tonight they would share a blanket. Farthing had obviously seen the look in Sir Gamel’s eyes. Now he would let the man know that she was not free for the taking. It was the simplest of all their ploys. However, she had never found so great a need to use it before.

      That fire in the man’s eyes called out to her. It was not simply lust. Sir Gamel looked as if he thought she was his, as if he thought she would and should understand. What troubled her was that a large part of her saw nothing strange in that.

      Keeping her back to the men, she took off her headdress, freeing her hair so that she could brush it out. Sleeping in the coverchief would cause more suspicion than the unusual color of her hair. Carefully she slipped out of the short-sleeved brown dress she wore over her linen chemise, then quickly got beneath the blanket. A moment later Farthing, wearing only his hose and shirt, crawled in beside her. She closed her eyes, struggling to feel safe and calm as he tucked her up against him spoon style.

      “’Tis a bad night for me to be cup-shotten, though it does begin to fade,” he whispered.

      “’Tis rare that ye overimbibe. Ye need no heady wines to help ye enjoy life. Besides, how could ye ken that we would have visitors?”

      “And such visitors. The mon stares our way as if I am the trespasser. ’Tis an odd look, more than lust, I see that clearly enough. Dearling, dinnae flinch or act startled. I am going to place my hand upon your breast.”

      “Why?” she asked even as she watched his rather beautiful dark hand cup her breast.

      “’Tis a sign all men can read.”

      Daring СКАЧАТЬ