Read Online Lois Greiman by The Princess, Her Pirate - Free Book Online

as homely as his lord was beautiful. She liked him immediately.
    “What is your name?” she asked.
    Both men turned toward her in unison, and she realized her mistake. Most women, even wealthy widowed women, would not assume to question a man in such a situation. Still, she had already spoken, and it was too late to draw the words back. She kept her gaze fast on the giant.
    “Me Christian name be Olaf.” He said the words slowly, as if wondering why she’d asked. “Me friends…and the bastard here…” He motioned toward MacTavish. “They call me Burr.”
    “You are of Swedish descent?”
    “Norwegian,” he said. “Late of Kristiansund.”
    She nodded, remembering traveling to that beautiful peninsula as a child, but MacTavish was scowling. Who was this giant of a man who could call the sovereign lord of Teleere a bastard and live to tell of it? Someone very foolish or very brave. Perhaps a meld of the two. It intrigued her.
    “Tell me, Burr,” she said. “Are you in need of employment?”
    His heavy brows rose. “What’s that?”
    “I seem to have lost my guard. I but wondered if you might wish to take up that position.”
    The huge man shrugged. A shadow of a grin played around the peripheral edges of his mouth. “What do you pay?”
    MacTavish swore under his breath.
    She didn’t glance toward him. “I will give you twice what he does.”
    Burr laughed. “That won’t be difficult, lass, for he pays me nothing.”
    “Ahh. Just in my price range then.”
    He laughed. She smiled.
    “Get the hell out of here,” MacTavish ordered.
    Burr glanced at his master in some surprise. “The lady made me an offer, lad.”
    “She’s not a lady.”
    Burr smiled. “Better yet.”
    “Go check on Peters.”
    The Norseman turned his gaze on MacTavish finally, his eyes still laughing. “You worried he’s going to kill himself for disappointing you?”
    “I’m afraid he’s not.”
    Burr snorted, then turned back toward Tatiana. “Me apologies,” he said, and bowed at the waist. The movement was strangely graceful. “It seems I am being sent to rout wild geese.”
    “Consider my offer.”
    “Aye,” he agreed, and nodded. “That I will. And if the lad here gives you too much trouble…” He bowed again. “You’ve but to call.”
    “And if I call, what will you do?”
    He shrugged. His shoulders were the approximate size of a river barge. “I’d have to charge extra to kill him.”
    “I shall bear that in mind.”
    Burr chuckled as he turned to leave. The door shut solidly behind him.
    She shifted her attention slowly back to MacTavish. “Loyalty is a difficult commodity to come by.”
    “I don’t believe in loyalty,” he said.
    “Why is that?”
    “Because there are women like you.”
    “You think me disloyal?”
    He was still scowling. “Here,” he said, and lifted the cup to her lips again. “Drink this.”
    She turned away, making a face of disgust. “It tastes like sheep dung.”
    “Which begs the obvious question,” he said, but didn’t explain. “Drink it before I pour it down your throat.”
    She considered arguing, but his expression changed her mind. “What is it?”
    “Heather wine laced with arsenic.”
    “Then I am certain you will understand why I must respectfully refuse.”
    “You’re in no position to refuse anything.”
    “What about Burr?”
    He laughed. “You expect him to save you?”
    She lifted her lips into a parody of a smile.
    “From me?”
    She said nothing.
    “For a woman of the world you’re a poor judge of people, Megs.”
    “Am I?”
    “If you think Burr will set himself against me to save you.”
    “So loyal is he?”
    He saw the trap just a moment before it snapped shut. Indeed, he almost smiled at his misstep. “I prefer to call it force of habit.”
    “He has been with you a long while?”
    For a moment some unknown emotion crossed his eyes, but it was gone in an instant.
    “Drink the wine,” he ordered.
    “I’ve a strange aversion