Free Highlander's Reckoning (The Sinclair Brothers #3) by Emma Prince Page B

was shy.
    Daniel immediately rejected that thought. He’d seen
the fire in her bright blue eyes and heard the barbs on her tongue frequently
enough to know that she wasn’t simply a shy, maidenly sort of lass. Nay, she
was far too bold—perhaps from experience that no maiden should have.
    She’d complained of a headache and had retired
early—again—last night. She was deliberately delaying their consummation,
sneaking away, and either lying about what she was doing or simply refusing to
explain herself.
    He’d made up his mind about what to do as he tossed
and turned in his cold bed last night.
    “You sent for me, my lord?” Malcolm said in the
study’s doorway. Daniel had been so wrapped up in his thoughts about Rona that
he hadn’t even heard the slight man enter. He cursed himself silently but
beckoned Malcolm in.
    “See that these get delivered,” he said, gesturing
toward the stack of letters on the desk.
    Malcolm nodded silently and stepped forward to
retrieve the letters.
    “And Malcolm,” Daniel said reluctantly. He’d already
made up his mind. Now he just had to follow through.
    Malcolm turned back to him, a questioning look on
his face. “Aye, my lord?”
    “When Lady Rona takes a boat to the village today”
—Daniel didn’t even bother saying “if” she went out, so common had her little
trips been in the few days since he had sent Kennedy back to his clan at
Dunure— “follow her.”
    Malcolm’s eyes widened slightly. “Follow her, my
lord?”
    “You heard me,” Daniel ground out. “I want to know
where she goes.”
    Malcolm closed his mouth quickly, wisely realizing
that to ask more questions would only make things worse. “Aye, my lord.”
    “Keep your distance. I don’t want her knowing you’re
there.”
    “Aye, my lord.”
    “And Malcolm?”
    “Aye, my lord?”
    “Tell no one of my orders.”
    Daniel ignored the stab of shame he felt at his
words, and at the fact that he was asking one of his servants to follow his
wife. But he couldn’t force her to explain herself, nor could he expect to earn
the trust and respect of the castle if he was being cuckolded. He could only
hope to learn the truth about her activities in as inconspicuous a way as
possible. He just prayed that this mess could be contained without scandal or
further embarrassment.
    Malcolm bowed wordlessly and took his leave from the
study.
    Daniel hated using the man for such a task,
especially considering that only a few days ago he was more loyal to Kennedy
than Daniel. But Malcolm could at least be discreet.
    He hoped.
     
    The only warning Rona had was the little extra tilt
upward of Bhreaca’s wings. Then the peregrine falcon went into her stooping
motion, and Rona felt her stomach flip with excitement. Bhreaca folded her
wings tight against her body in mid-air, and then dove straight at the ground.
The bird fell like a stone, though Rona knew Bhreaca was in control.
    At the last possible moment, Bhreaca’s wings popped
out. Instead of crashing headlong into the small clearing in the Galloway
woods, Bhreaca’s talons scrapped the ground, closing tight around a pheasant.
With one swift flick of her beak, the falcon broke the pheasant’s neck. Then
Bhreaca flapped a few times, gaining the air once again with the pheasant
locked in her talons.
    The falcon circled Rona, swinging lower and lower
until she dropped the pheasant and came to light on Rona’s outstretched,
gauntleted forearm.
    “Wonderful, Bhreaca,” Rona crooned as she reached
into a pouch at her waist and extended a scrap of meat to the falcon. Bhreaca
ate eagerly. With all the extra hunting and flying of late, the falcon’s
appetite had grown.
    “She returns to you more quickly than she does to
me,” Ian said as he emerged from the forest into the small clearing. Fionna,
the snowy-white gyrfalcon, rode comfortably on his arm. Ian, though simply
clothed, looked like a man emerging from a legend. Or like a king.
    Rona shuddered at the