Read Online Thief by Linda Windsor - Free Book Online

he settled on a bench near the wall and cast his quicksilver gaze about, like a hawk searching for an unsuspecting mouse. To her surprise, Sorcha seemed to be his prey. But instead of appearing threatening, like Wada’s snaggle-toothed smile earlier that day, the smile he sent her way stirred her blood from the inside out till she surely glowed like a torch.
    He raised his drink to her as she began to play the harp, a tune her fingers knew well without the aid of thought. But the words, ah, they were a lost clash of attraction versus warning behind the coy smile she tossed him. Was his purse worth the risk?
    Ebyn’s pitiful reply played through her mind. They’ll just sell me again.
    Aye, Sorcha decided. This would be the last time. Soon she’d be a lady and never have to steal again. With that, she began to sing.

Chapter Five
    So this was Sorcha. Caden could see the resemblance to Myrna the moment he laid eyes on her. Her hair was touched with fire, yet unblemished by the snow of her mother’s age. It almost looked hot to the touch. Hot as the fierce blush that colored her creamy complexion and deepened the green of her gaze. This fair minstrel had to be the one he sought. How many Sorchas could there be in Din Guardi of that description?
    The port reeve had not steered him wrong, although the man was reluctant to give up any information until a gold coin warmed his hand. Even then, Caden had to convince him that he had a small inheritance for Sorcha from a relative in Aberwick, a lady Caden had worked for.
    “Our Sorcha an heiress,” the reeve exclaimed. “The Wyrds must be makin’ up for the way they’ve treated her of late.”
    Caden learned, while treating the man to a drink near a warm tavern fire, how she’d lost her parents in a fire a little over a year ago, well-respected folk who adopted the seven-year-old captive. That her father’s sword-friend and gesith, or companion to Hussa himself, had offered to marry her.
    “Though the ol’ thane’ll have his hands full, mind ye,” the reeve said. “That one has a mind of her own. A bit queer, if ye ask me. Most maids her age are wedded, bedded, and raisin’ their own children by now, not buyin’ ’em at the slave market. Says she an’ that dwarf of hers finds good homes for them.”
    So Sorcha had her mother Myrna’s good heart. Caden tucked that and all he’d learned away in his memory. His red-blooded reaction to her smile was harder to cast aside. But it had been the same the first time he’d seen Rhianon. And since being freed of his late wife, he’d run from any woman who affected him so, making him vulnerable to her manipulation.
    Unbidden, the last time Caden saw Rhianon came to his mind: her clothes stained with the blood of the men she’d murdered, her hair wild and matted with brush from hiding in the woods. Hissing and snarling at the priest who approached her, she’d turned and leapt over a crag, taking their unborn child with her into the depths of the river below. Caden had lost a part of him that day that he still mourned, but his grief was for the innocent babe, not his late wife. Caden shuddered. He’d rather face a battle-crazed Saxon or Orkney Pict any day.
    A dwarfish woman nudged him with a wooden cup, startling Caden from the nightmarish memory. “If you liked the song, a copper for milady’s cup will bring on another.”
    “Aye, I did,” Caden said, fishing a copper from his purse, “though my understanding of Saxon is limited.”
    Truth was, he’d rather sit with his countrymen on yon side of the hearth, where he’d understand all being said. Here, it was more difficult, although camping and fighting side by side with Saxon warriors for hire had taught him enough to gather the gist of conversation.
    “Milady sings in Cumbric as well.” The little woman shoved the cup at him again. “Have you a request?”
    Caden parted with another copper. “Any song in Cumbric will do.” And then he added a silver coin.