Read Online Highland Hawk: Highland Brides #7 by Lois Greiman - Free Book Online Page A

was getting old.
    Good saints! He felt as if he had run a hundred miles, as if he had battled a dragon with nothing more than a prayer and the dull end of a quail bone. When in actuality, he had done nothing more than run up a few stairs. And lost his quarry.
    Frustration burned through him again. Who had it been and what mischief had he planned? Haydan would have been willing to believe there was no harm meant if the lad had stopped and explained his actions, but his flight had condemned him.
    Lad! The word had come to him unbidden. It had been a lad at the door. Haydan was sure of it suddenly, for the boy had moved with swiftness and dexterity, and although the darkness may have been distorting, the figure did not seem very large.
    Haydan glanced about the hall with a new perception. Among the servants, there were many youths. Near the front door, for instance, there was a boy about the proper size, but... nay. He was a wee bit too small.
    Kitchen Elsie's daughter appeared. She was a comely lass of about fourteen years, plump and... Could his quarry have been a girl?
    Haydan grimaced at the thought. He was not a vain man, but he had no wish to believe he had been outdistanced by a plump girl just coming into womanhood.
    Ah, there. Another lad, near the cluster of men determined to make fools of themselves. Haydan watched the boy offer wine and ale as he moved among the long tables. He was a graceful boy and quick. Dressed in tan, slightly stained hose and a too-large tunic, he went efficiently about his task. His head was covered in a gray cap that drooped down the side of his face, but Haydan was fairly certain he was Sara's boy. A good lad, if a bit high-spirited.
    The boy turned slightly, granting Haydan a slanted view of his face. Ale splashed over the brim of Haydan's mug and his curse was loud enough to make his table- mates turn toward him with quizzical expressions.
    Damn it all—the lad had done it again.
    "I tell you," Catriona said, laughing at the latest jest. "I have no claim to a throne, here or elsewhere."
    "But have you ever returned to your homeland?" asked the slight man with the crooked teeth and the unruly hair. He looked vaguely familiar, but when he had introduced himself as Arthur Douglas, Earl of Harrow- head, she did not recognize the name. He had a boyish habit of hugging his left arm against his side as if he were shy. Those around him called him Lord Hogshead, but he seemed to bear no ill will, perhaps because of the stunning amount of ale he had already consumed, or perhaps because of his own disarming and unassuming temperament.
    "Nay. I have never had the opportunity to return to Khandia," she said.
    "That explains it then," said another. "If they saw your face, they would surely hasten you to the throne."
    "If they were still conscious after the first glimpse of her," Hogshead said, and the others around him laughed.
    Nearly a dozen men surrounded her. She knew a few names. MacKinnon with the round, bearded face. De la Faire with the perfect teeth. Lord Drummond, a dark, handsome man who sat beside the pale girl called Roberta and who seemed engrossed by her every whispered word. 'Twas he who kept his door locked, if Mildred had been correct.
    Could any of them have issued that evil ultimatum?
    "Widow Charmain," someone said. "You look well rested."
    "I have been told that there is nowhere like Blackburn to get... rested."
    Catriona caught her breath. There was something about the purred tone of 'rested' that tweaked her memory.
    Fayette!
    Cat snapped her gaze to the woman, but though the lady turned to look at Catriona there was neither recognition nor horror in her eyes, but rather the hint of an emotion Cat could not quite read.
    "Lady," said a lad who appeared beside her elbow with a pitcher. "May I offer you some ale?"
    "Nay, I fear I..." Cat began, but in that instant her gaze met the lad's mischievous green eyes. "Your M—" she began, but he lifted a finger, unobtrusively to his mouth