Read Online Taming the Scotsman by Kinley MacGregor - Free Book Online Page B

trust him and that deadly aura that clung to him like a second skin, but Lysander and Pagan went far back, and Lysander had spoken up on his behalf.
    So after a little debate, Pagan had joined their group. Part of them, and yet he always kept himself apart.
    Pagan passed a look to her as she continued to stand there watching the men, and it was onlythen Catarina realized he was as amused by the other men’s plotting as she was. One corner of his mouth twisted up wryly so that he could share with her his own condemnation of their discussion.
    Viktor, who was the closest thing to a father she had ever known, held an old, large, tattered bag in his left hand. It was a bag she had repaired earlier that day. His gray hair stuck out in the front as if he’d been tugging at it while trying to prove his point. “I say we attack him from behind.”
    Viktor looked to his right and handed the bag to the man beside him. “Bavel, take this sack. We toss it over his head and conk him right on the noggin.”
    Bavel nodded in agreement. Not much taller than she, Bavel was the musician of their clan. At a score and a half in age, he was only three years older than she, with black hair and flashing black eyes. He was a handsome man who had always been like a brother to her.
    “I can use my hammer and we can have him in the wagon in a matter of minutes,” Lysander added. A tall, fierce warrior, Lysander had been sent to keep watch over her and to be the strong arm should they need one.
    “Or the lot of you could kill him,” Cat said, joining their discussion.
    She looked at each man in turn. Viktor’s tiredgray eyes held an uncommon spark to them, while Lysander’s green ones glinted in anticipation.
    Bavel looked away, shamefaced.
    Pagan gave a deep, rich laugh that drew scowls from the others.
    Lysander kicked at Pagan’s booted feet, but before he could make contact, Pagan moved them quickly away as if anticipating the “friendly” attack.
    It was eerie how fast Pagan could move and how well he knew the minds and intents of others, sometimes even before they did.
    “What do you know of it, woman?” Lysander asked irritably, turning his attention back to her. “’Tis men’s business you’re interrupting.”
    “Oh aye,” she said, laughing bitterly. “Murder most often is, but if you’ll recall we were paid to abduct Ewan MacAllister, not kill him. Think you, what would happen if we return with his corpse?”
    Pagan subtly nodded his head as if impressed by her speech. Without a word, he watched the others to see how they would respond.
    “Have you a better plan?” Viktor asked. Unlike his other two coconspirators, he respected her ability to think.
    Cat nodded. “I say we drug him.”
    “A devious woman’s trick.” Lysander spat. “I say we be forthright like men.”
    She scoffed. “You’ll kill him if you do. A manlike him won’t come with you peacefully. If you attack him, he’ll attack you.”
    Lysander made a rude noise at her. “Come, let us be about this. Cat, you make the wagon ready for him.”
    “Pagan?” she asked, looking to the man who still appeared amused by their debate. “What say you?”
    His voice was rough and deep, like thunder, as it resonated with his foreign accent. “I say you should never involve yourself in the machinations of others unless invited. Throats have been slit for far less.”
    “Will you join us, then?” Lysander asked.
    Pagan shook his head. “I hold no grudge against this man and have no wish to fight him. I leave the entire matter to the three of you.”
    Lysander gave him a curt nod.
    Catarina threw her hands up, unwilling to argue further. “When Ewan MacAllister ends up dead and his brothers demand the lives of the lot of you, I want you to remember who had the voice of reason.”
    As Viktor started off with them, Lysander made him stay behind. “You make too much noise, Viktor. It’d be best if you leave this to Bavel and me.”
    Reluctantly, Viktor