Read Online What Happens in Scotland by Jennifer McQuiston - Free Book Online Page B

fault James had forgotten himself last night. He turned to his brother, his decision made. William was already counting out coins from his money purse. When it was all over, the groom skittered back into the filthy darkness of the stable, and James was left holding the reins of the ill-tempered black mare and the ends of his own frayed temper.
    He eyed the horse with distaste, wondering what he was going to do with it. Riding it certainly seemed out of the question, at least if he wanted to make it to the end of the street with his neck intact. She seemed none too sound anyway, obviously favoring her right rear leg.
    He took a step toward the mare, his hand raised in placation. This was not his horse, but it obviously belonged to someone. She had good conformation despite her foul temperament, with a high crest to her neck and slim legs. The horse’s ears, when not pinned back flat against her head, formed two graceful arcs above intelligent eyes.
    There were only a handful of Moraig’s citizens who could afford a piece of horseflesh so fine. When he found the mare’s owner, he would likely be able to add another clue to the puzzle of his evening.
    He placed a firm hand on her nose. The mare responded with a squeal and kicked out violently with her forefeet, striking James in the knee with a body-shuddering crack. He pitched backward, knocking his head against wall of the stable. His hat went rolling on its brim across the dust and straw that littered the ground. He lay there a long moment, unsteady and sick and contemplating whether he could afford the cost of a bullet for the intemperate beast.
    Probably not. That would just place him further in debt.
    William leaned in, concerned. More precisely, two Williams leaned in. “Are you all right?” His brother’s voice sounded slurred and distant, but that couldn’t be right, not when there were two of him speaking.
    “Piss-poor and proper,” James groaned, fighting a wave of dizziness. His leg hurt like the very devil, but he forced himself to standing. The earth undulated beneath his feet. He snatched up his battered hat and then lifted a hand gingerly to his skull and probed the memento of his past evening’s indiscretion. Fresh warmth coated his fingers. The wound had started to bleed again.
    William’s mouth stretched into a smile. “If you are done boxing with the beastie, I have to ask. What do you want to do now?”
    James reached out a hand to grab the mare’s reins, this time taking care to stand to the side. He decided against a steadying hand on the mare’s neck, choosing instead to live. “Isn’t it obvious?” he grumbled, wiping his blood-covered fingers on his ruined waistcoat. “We need to figure out who in the deuces this horse belongs to.”
    The horse, like the corset, was a clue. A reticent clue, but a clue nonetheless. He needed to get started on the investigation. Each lost moment was a risk to his future and an opportunity for the woman in question to flee town with his money purse in hand. If this had been a case brought to him by a client, he would have eagerly set foot to pavement, ruthlessly tracking down each beckoning trace of her.
    Unfortunately, his body did not agree with his mind. He leaned a hand against the weathered wood of the livery, breathing deeply through his nose. He had never come so close to fainting in his life.
    “I think we need to get you to the surgeon.” William’s voice was colored gray with concern.
    James shook his head and pushed himself straight. He renewed his grip on the reins with one hand and his hold on the corset with other. “That’s all I need, word of this getting out amidst the town gossips. If I go to see the sawbones, he’ll want to know how I got cracked on the head with a chamber pot. Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a piece or two of china left in there, given the way my head hurts.”
    “To your house, then.” William’s drawn, bushy browns and stern voice brooked no argument.