Read Online Betrayed by Arnette Lamb - Free Book Online

splash of color to his masculine appearance and complimented his sun-bronzed skin. His finely polished boots reflected the golden light from the carriage lamps.
    To Sarah, his modern clothing was a sharp contrast to the other attire, one ceremonial, the other cultural, that she’d seen him wear. Did he feel differently in each garment? While she’d like to know the answer, it was an intimate question that only a sister asked a brother or a wife posed to a husband. Sarah MacKenziecertainly couldn’t ask it of Michael Elliot. Such frankness represented one of the many special expectations she had for marriage, another closeness and comfort she would one day share with her mate.
    Michael spoke congenially during the short ride through the darkened, narrow streets. All went well until they were handed down from the conveyance. With a hand at Rose’s back, Michael nudged her forward as he summoned the doorman.
    â€œThis is Mistress Rose, Lady Sarah’s companion,” Michael said. “You’re to make certain she is comfortable and entertained.”
    â€œShall I seat her in the lower salon with Turnbull?”
    â€œThat will do. Serve her promptly, and she’s to have whatever takes her fancy.”
    Rose looked as if she’d melt into a puddle of feminine gratitude. “Thank you, my lord.” She caught Sarah’s gaze, then stared pointedly at his knees. “I’ll be surprised if they have cabbages. I ain’t seen any ripe ones about.”
    Laughter bubbled up inside Sarah, and she had to cover her mouth and turn away. Michael hadn’t worn a kilt tonight, so Rose couldn’t have seen his knees. He’d so completely charmed her, she had forgotten his family name and complimented him anyway.
    He did have impeccable manners tonight, and as Sarah recalled, exceptionally nice knees.
    â€œA private jest?” he asked, a curious smile enhancing his manly attributes.
    Her back pike-stiff, Rose snickered as she followed the footman into the inn.
    â€œYes,” Sarah confessed, “and far too silly to share with you.”
    â€œIf you insist.” He guided her through the door and helped her remove her cloak.
    Looking up at his profile, she had the notion she’d disappointed him by not sharing the jest. It was a tiny withdrawal of sorts; she’d seen it often in Notch.
    Notch and Michael Elliot. Whatever had made her match them together? An orphaned lad and a distinguished noble son could have nothing in common.
    â€œHave I dirt on my face?”
    She’d consider the comparison later. Now she had a more immediate concern. “Nay, you haven’t a speck.”
    â€œWould you tell me if I did?”
    â€œOf course. Watching another suffer embarrassment is wicked and thoughtless. I’d never stoop so low.”
    â€œGood. Now will you tell me why that swarthy-skinned fellow behind you is bearing down on us like Suleiman leading the Ottoman army into Buda?”
    What an interesting analogy, but then he was a military man. She turned. It was the mayor, and Michael Elliot didn’t know him. She had gambled and won.
    Inspired by her own accurate judgment of Michael’s character, she threaded her arm through his. “That’s Mayor Fordyce. He’s the guest I spoke of.”
    Michael murmured, “He doesn’t look especially pleased.”
    An energetic, tidy man, Fordyce hurried everywhere. He wore a bottle-green short coat and matching knee breeches. His hose were stark white, same as his ruffled shirt, and his fashionable bagwig had beendusted with pale green powder. The perpetual frown was as much a part of him as his stylish tastes.
    Under his breath, Michael said, “Are you certain he wants to dine with us?”
    He didn’t want to dine with Sarah, but Michael needn’t know that. “Our good mayor never looks pleased. That’s actually a smile.”
    â€œNot in any culture I’ve