Read Online The Marquess's Scottish Bride: A Sweet & Clean Historical Romance (The Chase Brides Book 2) by Lauren Royal, Devon Royal - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lauren Royal, Devon Royal
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yours.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Stay away from Geoffrey Gothard. He’s a dangerous man.”
“I quite agree. But he’s unlikely to be a danger to me, seeing as he’s on his way to London.”
“London?” She saw his body tense. “How come you to know this?”
“I…overheard him and—his brother, aye? When I went out to Scarborough’s to find Adam.” Because he seemed concerned for her welfare, she added, “They didn’t see me.”
The Englishman’s clear green eyes narrowed on hers suspiciously. “Why are you telling me this? To send me off in the wrong direction?”
“Pardon me?”
He stood abruptly. “Just stay away from Gothard. Find yourself another reward to collect.” The candle flames flickered as he strode to the door, disturbing the room’s musty air. His gaze settled on her emerald amulet for a moment before he pierced her with those incredible eyes. “I admire your persistence—it puts me in mind of my family—but I cannot see why you refuse to admit who you are.”
“You know what my mam would have said?” Caithren crossed her arms beneath the quilt. “Telling it true, pits ain in a stew.”
He paused with his hand on the latch. “I cannot understand you.”
“Then permit me to translate. Telling the truth confuses your enemies.”
“I’m not your enemy.” He blinked several times. “Why of a sudden does everyone think me his enemy?”
He said it to no one in particular, his gaze aimed toward the blackened beamed ceiling, as though he were looking for the heavens to send down an answer.
“I should be on the road after Gothard,” he mused to himself. Then he sighed and looked back to her. “But hang it if I don’t feel responsible for you.”
“Well, you needn’t be,” Cait said. “I can take care of myself.”
“Not from what I’ve seen. And now, thanks to me, you’re injured and even more vulnerable to men like the Gothards.”
“What do you mean, thanks to you?”
“You fell down the stairs after I intervened. And it was my sword that cut you. Accidentally—I wasn’t even holding it—but it’s my responsibility nonetheless.” She heard a click when he pushed down on the door latch. “I insist you accept my help.”
“I’d say you’ve helped me quite enough already.” Was this man out of his mind? “Your kind of help I don’t need.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “Get some sleep,” he said, “but make sure you awaken. The last thing I need is another Mary.”
Mary? Who on earth was Mary?
He opened the door. “I’ll check on you in the morning. If your head still aches, we’ll have a doctor in to examine it.”
Caithren was so confused and frustrated that if she’d had the energy, she’d have kicked the door shut behind him. As it was, it closed softly.
Did he think he could order her about as he pleased?
I’ll check on you in the morning .
Not if she had anything to say about it.
FOURTEEN
THE SILVER blade flashed, vibrations sang up his arm, and the man before him crumpled to the ground. Blood pumped, sickeningly slick and bright—
His heart racing, Jason sat straight up in bed, sweat breaking out to coat his clammy skin. His breath came in short, hard pants.
Who was this man he’d killed? Had he been a husband, a father? Certainly he’d been a son.
How many lives had Jason ruined with that fateful thrust of his sword?
Hopefully not as many as when his own parents had been slain on the field of battle. Heaven forbid he should put another family through something like that. Not even, as his parents had, for honor.
Senseless honor. They’d died fighting for the king, yet Cromwell had prevailed.
He raked a hand through his hair and swung his shaky legs off the bed. Dust motes floated in the brightness that streamed through the crooked shutters. Sunshine. Daylight. He’d overslept. Another restless, too-short night, like they all seemed to be since he was shot.
He stumbled to his clothing, pulled out his
“I quite agree. But he’s unlikely to be a danger to me, seeing as he’s on his way to London.”
“London?” She saw his body tense. “How come you to know this?”
“I…overheard him and—his brother, aye? When I went out to Scarborough’s to find Adam.” Because he seemed concerned for her welfare, she added, “They didn’t see me.”
The Englishman’s clear green eyes narrowed on hers suspiciously. “Why are you telling me this? To send me off in the wrong direction?”
“Pardon me?”
He stood abruptly. “Just stay away from Gothard. Find yourself another reward to collect.” The candle flames flickered as he strode to the door, disturbing the room’s musty air. His gaze settled on her emerald amulet for a moment before he pierced her with those incredible eyes. “I admire your persistence—it puts me in mind of my family—but I cannot see why you refuse to admit who you are.”
“You know what my mam would have said?” Caithren crossed her arms beneath the quilt. “Telling it true, pits ain in a stew.”
He paused with his hand on the latch. “I cannot understand you.”
“Then permit me to translate. Telling the truth confuses your enemies.”
“I’m not your enemy.” He blinked several times. “Why of a sudden does everyone think me his enemy?”
He said it to no one in particular, his gaze aimed toward the blackened beamed ceiling, as though he were looking for the heavens to send down an answer.
“I should be on the road after Gothard,” he mused to himself. Then he sighed and looked back to her. “But hang it if I don’t feel responsible for you.”
“Well, you needn’t be,” Cait said. “I can take care of myself.”
“Not from what I’ve seen. And now, thanks to me, you’re injured and even more vulnerable to men like the Gothards.”
“What do you mean, thanks to you?”
“You fell down the stairs after I intervened. And it was my sword that cut you. Accidentally—I wasn’t even holding it—but it’s my responsibility nonetheless.” She heard a click when he pushed down on the door latch. “I insist you accept my help.”
“I’d say you’ve helped me quite enough already.” Was this man out of his mind? “Your kind of help I don’t need.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. “Get some sleep,” he said, “but make sure you awaken. The last thing I need is another Mary.”
Mary? Who on earth was Mary?
He opened the door. “I’ll check on you in the morning. If your head still aches, we’ll have a doctor in to examine it.”
Caithren was so confused and frustrated that if she’d had the energy, she’d have kicked the door shut behind him. As it was, it closed softly.
Did he think he could order her about as he pleased?
I’ll check on you in the morning .
Not if she had anything to say about it.
FOURTEEN
THE SILVER blade flashed, vibrations sang up his arm, and the man before him crumpled to the ground. Blood pumped, sickeningly slick and bright—
His heart racing, Jason sat straight up in bed, sweat breaking out to coat his clammy skin. His breath came in short, hard pants.
Who was this man he’d killed? Had he been a husband, a father? Certainly he’d been a son.
How many lives had Jason ruined with that fateful thrust of his sword?
Hopefully not as many as when his own parents had been slain on the field of battle. Heaven forbid he should put another family through something like that. Not even, as his parents had, for honor.
Senseless honor. They’d died fighting for the king, yet Cromwell had prevailed.
He raked a hand through his hair and swung his shaky legs off the bed. Dust motes floated in the brightness that streamed through the crooked shutters. Sunshine. Daylight. He’d overslept. Another restless, too-short night, like they all seemed to be since he was shot.
He stumbled to his clothing, pulled out his
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