Read Online Wild Angel by Miriam Minger - Free Book Online

expletive rose to the very rafters.
    "By God, woman, watch what you’re doing!"
    "It’s the gown! My foot is caught in the hem!"
she cried as she feigned losing her balance once more, twisting at the waist so
suddenly that her elbow jabbed him right in the ribs. As he exhaled in pain,
she blurted in hasty apology, "Oh dear, I’m so sorry. Wearing a long skirt
isn’t anything like trousers. I can hardly move."
    "So stand still!"
    Triona froze, her ears ringing from his command, his
grip bruising as he righted her. Yet any discomfort she felt at that moment was
worth it. Ronan looked so exasperated that she was tempted to laugh. Delighted
with her performance, she lowered her head so she wouldn’t give her scheme
away.
    "Sit down. Carefully."
    As she did what she was told, she caught Niall’s amused
wink out of the corner of her eye. She winked back as Ronan retook his seat, then she sighed loudly as if thoroughly disgusted with
herself for creating such a scene. Lifting her eyes to look out across the huge
room, she realized from all the stunned faces that she had indeed fooled them
all, heightening her sense of satisfaction.
    "Don’t think this incident has changed my mind,"
Ronan added with finality. "You’ll grow used to wearing gowns soon enough."
    When goats fly, Triona thought smugly to herself as Ronan gestured for the servants to begin
carrying in the meal.
    "You may keep that gown, if you’d like," a
sweet sounding voice said. "I think it looks far better on you than it
could ever look on me."
    Triona turned, focusing for the first time on the pale
lovely girl seated next to Niall. She guessed at once that this must be Maire
from her thick midnight tresses and gray eyes, so like Ronan’s. Triona
suspected, too, that she and Maire must be very close in age. Yet there all
similarity ended. Triona had always prided herself upon being healthy as a
horse, but this poor girl looked fragile enough to break.
    "I hope you’ll keep the others, too." A
delicate smile curved lips the color of faded pink roses as Maire glanced
fondly at her two older brothers and then back to Triona. "Ronan and Niall
spoil me overmuch with so many gowns. I really don’t need them."
    Triona wanted to spout that she didn’t need them
either, but the offer had been made so generously, so graciously, she
refrained. "You’re very kind."
    "Aye, she is," Ronan interjected tersely. He
leaned forward as if to block Maire from her view, giving Triona the distinct
impression that he didn’t want the two of them to converse.
    He must be afraid some of her bad unmaidenlike
qualities might rub off on his dear sister, she thought, affronted. Just for
that, she decided to spite him by inviting Maire to come and see her tomorrow.
But before she could say a word, Triona felt a nudge to her arm as Aud leaned
over to whisper in her ear.
    "She can’t walk, sweeting."
    Stunned, Triona met Aud’s eyes. Their conversation was
masked by the mounting clatter in the hall.
    "The O’Byrne carried her himself into supper. I
talked to one of the servants while I was waiting for you at the door, and she
said a terrible childhood fever was the cause. A shame, it is, too. Such a
pretty girl."
    A shame, indeed, Triona thought guiltily, glancing
beyond Ronan to Maire’s fine-boned profile. Shame on her for pretending to trip
all over herself when two seats down from her was a young woman who couldn’t
walk at all. Triona flushed uncomfortably and looked down at the table.
    Her wine cup was full so she lifted it and took a long sip, the amber liquid’s cool sweetness improving her mood.
She had never tasted anything so good; they’d never had wine as fine as this
vintage in Imaal.
    She noted for the first time, too, that her cup gleamed
of silver, as did the plate set in front of her. In fact the entire table was
set with silver: ewers, knives, spoons and bowls.
Glancing around the hall, she saw to her amazement that most clansmen held
mazers with bright silver