Read Online When a Scot Loves a Lady by Katharine Ashe - Free Book Online Page A

“Care for a drop?”
    â€œI am being followed.”
    Yale squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How do you know it isn’t I who is followed?”
    â€œIf one of your enemies determined to murder you, he would not be hesitating.” Leam dropped the muffler beside the bottle.
    â€œS’truth.” Yale struggled to sit, setting the whiskey on the bench and taking up the garment. “But murder? Perhaps he is merely seeking information, like we were wont to do.” He lifted a black brow over a preternaturally clear eye. “Or p’raps it’s Lady Justice, chased us all the way from Dover Street to ferret out our purpose.”
    â€œIn a Shropshire snowstorm?”
    â€œIn a Bengalese monsoon?” He dropped the muffler. “That fellow we sought in Calcutta tracked you all the way through the jungle, if you recall.”
    Leam shook his head, moving to his horse’s stall. “I’ve no idea why this one hasn’t come closer. He’s within spitting distance yet he balks.”
    Yale leaned back against the cold stable wall and swung the bottle once more to his lips. “Much as the lovely Lady Katherine?”
    Leam would not oblige him with a reply. But it was a damned nuisance sometimes that the lad had the instincts of a real spy. Always watching.
    â€œHe is closer than I like given the circumstances.”
    â€œP’raps you ought to simply wait for him behind a wall and shoot him when he appears. Works like a charm, you know.”
    The big roan bumped its head into Leam’s chest. He ran his hand along its smooth face.
    â€œIs that how it happened, Wyn? When you shot that girl?” Leam didn’t know the whole story of it; Yale had never shared it. But he knew well enough that his friend had not always drunk the way he did now. It had started after one assignment went terribly wrong.
    The Welshman pushed up from the bench and hefted a saddle into his arms. On steady legs he moved to his horse’s stall. But this time Leam could see the drink in his eyes and the set of his mouth. The soberer the lad grew, the more he laughed. For years they had gotten along famously together: Mr. Wyn Yale, the drunk, and Lord Uilleam Blackwood, the man with a hole where his heart should be.
    Yale unfixed the latch on a stall door and heaved the saddle and blanket to his black’s back. It was an elegant creature, beauty and strength in its Thoroughbred lines.
    â€œGoing for a ride, Wyn?” Leam spoke mildly. “It is unwise in this weather, of course.”
    â€œWhen you call me by my Christian name, Leam, you intend to lecture me. I will save you the trouble. Ta-ta.” He tightened his mount’s girth and reached for the bridle.
    â€œI could knock you down. You would sleep this one off.”
    â€œYou couldn’t, old man.”
    â€œI haven’t bothered to in years, it is true. But I am tempted now.”
    Yale slid the bit into the black’s mouth and dropped the reins over its neck. He drew the horse from the stall, its hooves clomping across straw-strewn wood.
    â€œAre you trying to kill yourself, or the horse?”
    The Welshman pushed the stable door open and mounted amid lazy swirls of snow blowing off the roof.
    Leam followed. “Don’t be a fool, lad.”
    â€œSave your lectures for your son, Blackwood. He’s still young enough to find some use in them.” He spurred the horse into the snow. It stepped high, wary of the drifts, but the Welshman pushed it forward.
    His son .
    â€œYou will ruin that animal’s legs, you idiot!” The wind grabbed Leam’s voice. Heedless, the black-clad man and black-coated horse disappeared around the corner of the stable.
    He cursed and headed for the inn. He shook his coat and pushed through the entrance. Bella and Hermes came in behind and he shut the door—too forcefully. He tugged off his gloves and threw his coat onto