Taken Angeline Fortin (best novels of all time TXT) 📖

it, but something has changed between ye two today and as I said before, I worry for ye.  I had hoped ye were safely wed and just looking for a dalliance but I can see I was a fool to think so.  I dinnae want to see yer heart broken, knowing he’s gotten to ye.”

Scarlett pushed away from the table in astonishment.

“Ahh, dinnae shake yer head at me, dear lass.  I’m nae blind.”

“I’m not in love with him.” Scarlett protested hotly.  No, if there was one thing fame had taught her, it was not to get too attached to a men.  In truth, she learned not to care too deeply for anyone at all because she never knew if anyone truly cared for her as a person.  She had major issues with trusting someone’s word on the matter.  She’d seen her parents get sucked in by pretty words and torrid affairs too many times.  “I hardly know him.”

Rhys shrugged and retrieved his goblet. “I’ve known him all my life but doubt I will ever truly know him.  Time matters naught in these matters nor does familiarity.”

“I’m his prisoner, for crying out loud!”

“Are ye truly?  And how is it exactly that he holds ye?  I see nae bindings, nae cage that keeps ye here.”

Scarlett turned away, walking in long strides down the lane between the tented rows.  She was appalled by Rhys’ erroneous assumption.  Heaven forbid Laird thought the same thing!

She wouldn’t have any man thinking she was mooning for him.  Why if the press were to latch on to such a notion, it would be the scandal with Grayson all over again.  She wouldn’t have it.

Not that she seemed to have much control over it.  Scarlett’s pace slowed as the spurt of incredulity Rhys’ erroneous assumption roused trickled away.  There was something deeper and far more unsettling about the gap Laird’s absence left in her life these past few days.  She missed his presence – which was absurd enough given their short acquaintance – but combined with the depth of her attraction to Laird and the intensity of her physical response to him, the trifecta of symptomatic caring was disconcerting.  Even that shallow psychoanalysis had deterred her from trenching any deeper.

Sometimes life was easier without having all the facts.

Strong arms caught her around the shoulders. With a start, she looked up into Laird’s smiling eyes.  “There ye are.  I was just coming to find ye.  The King is well done wi’ my services for the night and my time is yers.  What shall we do?”

Scarlett drew herself together, focusing only on the pleasure seeing him brought her and not at all on the reasons why.

“I don’t know.  There are so many choices here at camp,” she teased.  “What would you like to do?”  Flames lit his eyes and a flutter answered in her chest.  “Besides that.”

“A walk perhaps around the camp to stretch yer legs?  I ken how ye like to get some exercise.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful.”

With her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, Laird led her down the lane of tents.  It was dark but small campfires dotted the path at intervals to guide them as they walked along.

“You’re verra quiet tonight,” he said after a long stretch of silence.

“Quiet?” she chuckled.  “My voice is nearly raw from reading to you all day long.  You wouldn’t let me quit.”

Laird shrugged.  “And yet, we’re still no’ finished wi’ the story, but that is no’ what I meant.  There is something amiss and I dinnae think that another day on horseback is solely to blame.”

“It’s nothing.  How was your night?”

He shrugged, covering her hand with his.  “Just taking possession of the armaments France sent through Dunbar and making final plans for the morrow.”

“Rhys said you were going to take Wark Castle tomorrow.  I’ve never heard of it.  Will it be dangerous?”

“Do ye worry for me, lass?”

More than she cared to admit.  “Yes.”

“Ye need no’ fear, lass.  Wark has changed hands so many times ‘tis unlikely we’ll need to do more than knock at the gate.  I shall return by supper.”

“Without a scratch?”

“Ye hae my word.”

“Good.”  They walked in companionable silence for a while before Scarlett thought to ask, “Laird, do you know Donell?”

“I ken many a man named Donell, lass.  Can ye be more specific?”

“An older man, looks like he’s a hundred but about as spry as a ten-year-old?  He lives at Dunskirk maybe?”

“Ye mean auld Donell?” he asked, lifting his brows in surprise.  “Wee fellow aboot so tall with tufts of hair o’er his ears and face of a troll?”

Her eyes flared.  “I would have gone with elf, but yes.  Do you know him?  Where I can find him?” she asked anxiously.

“Nay, lass.  He’s no’ often at Dunskirk but only passes by occasionally.  I dinnae ken that he had joined the muster as he is too auld to fight,” he said but curiosity would not let him leave it at that.  “What do ye want wi’ him?”

“Nothing.  I just want to ask him a few questions.  Can you help me find him?”

Scarlett could see the curiosity raging in his eyes at her evasive answer.  The questions.  What could she want with Donell?  How did she even know him?  Hopefully, he wouldn’t press her for more information than she could offer.

“I couldnae find anything in this camp even if I kent where to look but mayhap, I can ask aboot.”  Laird scratched at his bearded cheek, and noting her impatience, added, “Later.  Gi’ o’er, lass, what do ye want wi’ the auld man?”

A sigh escaped her.  Scarlett wished she could explain it all to him, but she couldn’t.  Laird hardly trusted her at all.  There was no chance he’d believe her if she told him exactly why she wanted to talk to Donell. “It was nothing.  Never mind.”

She would just have to keep a watchful eye for the old man.  When she found him next, there was no chance he’d escape her again.

Bagpipes