Read Online The Daring Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) by Carmen Caine - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carmen Caine
Tags: Romance, Historical Romance, Mafia, Medieval, Scottish, assassin, Highlands, scottish romances, scottish romance novels, godfather
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upon the table and lighting the candle from his own lamp, he nodded kindly and then exited the chamber, never having said a word.
Liselle ate peacefully, lost in thought, listening to the cry of the gulls outside her small window for a time. She was relieved that she was no longer on a rolling ship or wasting away from boredom in Venice.
Finally, exhaustion overcame her. And as the sun set, she crawled beneath her woolen cover and fell asleep in moments.
The storms that had plagued their journey returned in the middle of the night, waking her on several occasions. But when she rose at dawn, the heavy drumming of the rain had subsided to gentle showers.
In a short time, she was dressed and ready to leave, and it was only a little time later that another soft knock on her door heralded the return of the kindly nodding monk, and with him, a breakfast of bread, fish, and a few honey-spiced almonds.
She ate quickly in silence, and then wrapping herself in a soft, hooded cloak and lacing up her sturdy boots, she slipped outside in search of the others.
She had almost reached the abbey’s main gate when Albany’s laughter sounded from inside a nearby building. Peering through an open door, she caught sight of the prince and Douglas still at table, slapping one another on the back. She rolled her eyes contemptuously. Apparently, the prospect of starting a war was an occasion to be overjoyed. Finding no sight of Pascal, she resumed circling the abbey grounds.
Stepping out from behind a long, low building near the stables, a flash of black caught the corner of her eye. Instinctively, she ducked back, and crouching low, leaned forward for a better look.
A short distance away, Pascal stood with his head bowed, murmuring to a man clad from head to toe in black.
Liselle frowned, watching as the two clasped forearms and pressed their cheeks in farewell. The gesture seemed strangely familiar, but she hadn’t recalled seeing the man before. Most likely, it was a new messenger. Curious, she rose to her feet, preparing to join them.
But then a shrill whistle pierced the air, and as Pascal whirled with his stiletto appearing in his hand, she instinctively darted back.
Pascal was behaving unusually. But then, she’d never bothered to observe her cousin much before. Perhaps he always acted in this manner.
The whistle shrieked again, and the sound of Douglas’ booming voice quickly followed it.
Reluctantly, Liselle gathered her skirts and withdrew. It was time to leave. She’d have to pry into her cousin’s affairs later.
Picking her way a short distance through the wet grass, she arrived at the main gate just as Pascal stepped around the opposite side of the building. And as he caught the reins of her gray mare and moved to assist her to mount, she saw an unusually dark expression written upon his handsome face.
“What is it?” she whispered curiously in his ear. “Have you received new orders?”
He raised a scathing brow, but his voice was soft. “Orders? What madness is this, bábia ? It’s time for you to wake from your dreams now!” He snapped his fingers in front of her face.
Liselle scowled but nodded her chin towards where she’d just seen him. “Did you not receive tidings, behind yonder building?”
His dark eyes flickered, and she could tell that he knew what she meant, but he denied it anyway. “I know not of what you speak!” he said in a belittling tone. “You would do well to remember that my business is no concern of yours. I am not yours to command.”
“You’re lying,” she accused, irritated.
But he was clearly done speaking of the matter. Stepping away, he complained loudly, “England is a miserable place.” He held out his hand and eyed the raindrops falling into his outstretched palm with disgust. “Do they ever see the sun in this accursed land?”
“’ Tis better than Venice,” she retorted in annoyance and snatched the reins from his hands.
“I think not!” he grumbled and
Liselle ate peacefully, lost in thought, listening to the cry of the gulls outside her small window for a time. She was relieved that she was no longer on a rolling ship or wasting away from boredom in Venice.
Finally, exhaustion overcame her. And as the sun set, she crawled beneath her woolen cover and fell asleep in moments.
The storms that had plagued their journey returned in the middle of the night, waking her on several occasions. But when she rose at dawn, the heavy drumming of the rain had subsided to gentle showers.
In a short time, she was dressed and ready to leave, and it was only a little time later that another soft knock on her door heralded the return of the kindly nodding monk, and with him, a breakfast of bread, fish, and a few honey-spiced almonds.
She ate quickly in silence, and then wrapping herself in a soft, hooded cloak and lacing up her sturdy boots, she slipped outside in search of the others.
She had almost reached the abbey’s main gate when Albany’s laughter sounded from inside a nearby building. Peering through an open door, she caught sight of the prince and Douglas still at table, slapping one another on the back. She rolled her eyes contemptuously. Apparently, the prospect of starting a war was an occasion to be overjoyed. Finding no sight of Pascal, she resumed circling the abbey grounds.
Stepping out from behind a long, low building near the stables, a flash of black caught the corner of her eye. Instinctively, she ducked back, and crouching low, leaned forward for a better look.
A short distance away, Pascal stood with his head bowed, murmuring to a man clad from head to toe in black.
Liselle frowned, watching as the two clasped forearms and pressed their cheeks in farewell. The gesture seemed strangely familiar, but she hadn’t recalled seeing the man before. Most likely, it was a new messenger. Curious, she rose to her feet, preparing to join them.
But then a shrill whistle pierced the air, and as Pascal whirled with his stiletto appearing in his hand, she instinctively darted back.
Pascal was behaving unusually. But then, she’d never bothered to observe her cousin much before. Perhaps he always acted in this manner.
The whistle shrieked again, and the sound of Douglas’ booming voice quickly followed it.
Reluctantly, Liselle gathered her skirts and withdrew. It was time to leave. She’d have to pry into her cousin’s affairs later.
Picking her way a short distance through the wet grass, she arrived at the main gate just as Pascal stepped around the opposite side of the building. And as he caught the reins of her gray mare and moved to assist her to mount, she saw an unusually dark expression written upon his handsome face.
“What is it?” she whispered curiously in his ear. “Have you received new orders?”
He raised a scathing brow, but his voice was soft. “Orders? What madness is this, bábia ? It’s time for you to wake from your dreams now!” He snapped his fingers in front of her face.
Liselle scowled but nodded her chin towards where she’d just seen him. “Did you not receive tidings, behind yonder building?”
His dark eyes flickered, and she could tell that he knew what she meant, but he denied it anyway. “I know not of what you speak!” he said in a belittling tone. “You would do well to remember that my business is no concern of yours. I am not yours to command.”
“You’re lying,” she accused, irritated.
But he was clearly done speaking of the matter. Stepping away, he complained loudly, “England is a miserable place.” He held out his hand and eyed the raindrops falling into his outstretched palm with disgust. “Do they ever see the sun in this accursed land?”
“’ Tis better than Venice,” she retorted in annoyance and snatched the reins from his hands.
“I think not!” he grumbled and
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