Read Online Highlander's Reckoning (The Sinclair Brothers #3) by Emma Prince - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emma Prince
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rapidly
considering his opponent’s next several moves. Then he withdrew his finger from
the pawn and instead moved his knight.
Raef didn’t bother walking around to the other side
of the board. Instead, he simply rotated the entire thing so that the red
pieces now sat before him, waiting on his command. Just as he was about to move
the red-painted rook, a soft knock came on his study door.
“Enter,” he said with annoyance.
Gordon, his captain of the guard, poked his head
inside. “We have had some news, my lord.”
Raef waved him in and reluctantly turned away from
the chess game. “From King Edward, I hope,” he said, unconcerned to show his
impatience in front of Gordon. The man was loyal—and about as witless as they
came. He kept the men in line, though, and was good for running simple errands
like delivering news to his lord.
“Nay, my lord, there is still no word from the
King.”
Raef frowned. “Out with it then, man.”
Gordon, the big, hulking idiot, stood uncertainly
only about a foot inside the study door. He shifted his sizable weight from one
foot to the other under Raef’s sharp gaze.
“Our scouts to the northwest have noticed some
unusual activity around Loch Doon.”
Raef immediately straightened, forgetting his
annoyance at being pulled away from his game and at Edward II’s lack of
communication.
“They report that the castle and village have been
in a kerfuffle, first with preparations for the arrival of someone important,
and then with changes inside the castle.”
Raef’s stomach twisted in a combination of
excitement and panic. “The Bruce has returned?”
Strategically, this could be the perfect time for
Raef to make a definitive strike against the Scottish rebel scum. Their
leader’s ancestral home was only a half-day’s ride from where Raef currently
sat inside the walls of Dunbraes Castle. If he were able to lay siege to Loch
Doon, that gem of a stronghold, and either destroy it or capture it for the
English, he might finally earn the Barony that had been denied him for so long.
But of course, such a command to strike at Loch Doon
and Robert the Bruce, the slippery son of a bitch who had dragged this
rebellion on, would have to come from Edward II himself. And the whelp King was
proving to be more fop than Hammer of the Scots, the title his father had
earned for relentlessly crushing those barbarian people into dust.
If only Edward I still lived to carry on his task of
eradicating those savages to the north. Instead, the old codger had died just
as Raef was making a name and reputation for himself as a scourge to Scotland.
Now he and all of England were saddled with an ineffectual, art-loving King who
cared more about clothes than finishing the task of bringing Scotland and its
barbarian inhabitants to heel.
And besides, even if he did get the order to attack
Loch Doon, he was now in greater danger here in an English-held Lowland castle
if the Bruce were near. The Bruce could be gearing up to attack Dunbraes. Raef
had to think defensively as well as offensively, just as he did when he played
himself in chess.
Raef’s ability to hold the Scottish-built castle was
a constant poke in the eye to the Scottish rebels. The Bruce had made his
intentions to retake the Lowlands and Borderlands clear—over the last year, the
rebels had attacked English-held garrisons, keeps, and castles all along the
Borderlands. And the Bruce meant business. Instead of simply holding those
structures for the Scottish cause, he was having them razed to the ground so
that they could never be recaptured by the English.
Dunbraes had already withstood several attempted
sieges in the five years since Raef had been charged with holding the castle.
Was the Bruce himself preparing to attempt one final siege?
All this flitted through Raef’s mind in a heartbeat,
as if he were merely assessing his options on the chessboard.
Gordon cleared his throat nervously, clearly
reluctant to answer Raef’s
considering his opponent’s next several moves. Then he withdrew his finger from
the pawn and instead moved his knight.
Raef didn’t bother walking around to the other side
of the board. Instead, he simply rotated the entire thing so that the red
pieces now sat before him, waiting on his command. Just as he was about to move
the red-painted rook, a soft knock came on his study door.
“Enter,” he said with annoyance.
Gordon, his captain of the guard, poked his head
inside. “We have had some news, my lord.”
Raef waved him in and reluctantly turned away from
the chess game. “From King Edward, I hope,” he said, unconcerned to show his
impatience in front of Gordon. The man was loyal—and about as witless as they
came. He kept the men in line, though, and was good for running simple errands
like delivering news to his lord.
“Nay, my lord, there is still no word from the
King.”
Raef frowned. “Out with it then, man.”
Gordon, the big, hulking idiot, stood uncertainly
only about a foot inside the study door. He shifted his sizable weight from one
foot to the other under Raef’s sharp gaze.
“Our scouts to the northwest have noticed some
unusual activity around Loch Doon.”
Raef immediately straightened, forgetting his
annoyance at being pulled away from his game and at Edward II’s lack of
communication.
“They report that the castle and village have been
in a kerfuffle, first with preparations for the arrival of someone important,
and then with changes inside the castle.”
Raef’s stomach twisted in a combination of
excitement and panic. “The Bruce has returned?”
Strategically, this could be the perfect time for
Raef to make a definitive strike against the Scottish rebel scum. Their
leader’s ancestral home was only a half-day’s ride from where Raef currently
sat inside the walls of Dunbraes Castle. If he were able to lay siege to Loch
Doon, that gem of a stronghold, and either destroy it or capture it for the
English, he might finally earn the Barony that had been denied him for so long.
But of course, such a command to strike at Loch Doon
and Robert the Bruce, the slippery son of a bitch who had dragged this
rebellion on, would have to come from Edward II himself. And the whelp King was
proving to be more fop than Hammer of the Scots, the title his father had
earned for relentlessly crushing those barbarian people into dust.
If only Edward I still lived to carry on his task of
eradicating those savages to the north. Instead, the old codger had died just
as Raef was making a name and reputation for himself as a scourge to Scotland.
Now he and all of England were saddled with an ineffectual, art-loving King who
cared more about clothes than finishing the task of bringing Scotland and its
barbarian inhabitants to heel.
And besides, even if he did get the order to attack
Loch Doon, he was now in greater danger here in an English-held Lowland castle
if the Bruce were near. The Bruce could be gearing up to attack Dunbraes. Raef
had to think defensively as well as offensively, just as he did when he played
himself in chess.
Raef’s ability to hold the Scottish-built castle was
a constant poke in the eye to the Scottish rebels. The Bruce had made his
intentions to retake the Lowlands and Borderlands clear—over the last year, the
rebels had attacked English-held garrisons, keeps, and castles all along the
Borderlands. And the Bruce meant business. Instead of simply holding those
structures for the Scottish cause, he was having them razed to the ground so
that they could never be recaptured by the English.
Dunbraes had already withstood several attempted
sieges in the five years since Raef had been charged with holding the castle.
Was the Bruce himself preparing to attempt one final siege?
All this flitted through Raef’s mind in a heartbeat,
as if he were merely assessing his options on the chessboard.
Gordon cleared his throat nervously, clearly
reluctant to answer Raef’s
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