Free The Prince and I by Karen Hawkins Page A

the cook at Rowallen. I was ne’er cold then.”
    “Nay, ye were always complainin’ of the heat,” Ian said.
    She shot him a hard look. “Aye, and ye were always complainin’ aboot havin’ so much to do, wha’ with so many horses bein’ kept in Lord Robert’s stables. I suppose neither of us were as grateful as we should ha’ been.”
    He grunted an agreement.
    “Widow Reeves, what is this news?” Murian waited expectantly. “Shall I put on some tea?”
    “Och, I canna. As soon as I’m through here, I’m off to Widow Brodie’s to lend her a hand in puttin’ her lads to bed.”
    Ian grimaced. “Five lusty lads, they are.”
    “Aye, and Iona’s too soft wi’ them, as I’ve told her fer years.” Widow Reeves rubbed her hands together. “Ah, this is nice. ’Tis warmer here than in me own cottage.”
    Murian frowned. “Dinna you have wood for your fire?”
    “Aye. ’Tis no’ lack of wood, bu’ the hole in my roof, which lets in the wind and rain.” She caught Murian’s expression. “Och, lassie, dinna look so. Ye canna fix e’ery leak in e’ery roof.”
    Murian managed a smile. “I wish I could.”
    “Ye do enou’ as ’tis. Master Robert found a gem when he found ye, and we say a blessin’ fer ye e’ery day. All of us.”
    At the kind words, Murian’s face heated. “If anyone had a large heart, it was Robert. Long before I came to Rowallen, he took in every widow and orphan he stumbled across.”
    “Ye are both angels, which is why I’m pleased to bring ye some guid news.” Widow Reeves came to sit on the settee, an air of barely suppressed excitement lighting her face. “As ye know, me sister Lara is a cook fer Lord and Lady MacLure. Lara brought some of her scones this morning, and while she was here, she mentioned tha’ her lord and lady were invited to a dinner party at Rowallen Castle this coming Friday to welcome the prince.”
    Murian leaned forward. “Lord and Lady MacLure are attending?”
    “Aye. From wha’ Lara has heard, all the local gentry will be attendin’.”
    “Loudan will be beside himself.”
    “Aye. Fer the last year, the MacLures and the other gentry ha’ refused e’ery invitation fra’ Lord Loudan—but they canna say no to meetin’ a real prince.”
    “I wonder if that is why the earl wanted the prince to visit him in the first place. I suspected as much.”
    “Aye. My sister heard Lady MacLure say tha’ Loudan canna convince anyone fra’ Edinburgh to join him at Rowallen, so ’tis the local gentry or no one. So now he must make his amends for all the times he’s slighted them, or there will be no one to entertain in his new castle.”
    “I dinna see why this is guid news,” Ian said.
    “Ian! How can ye be so daft?” Widow Reeves scoffed. “On Friday night, the castle will be filled wit’ the local gentry. None of whom Loudan knows .”
    Murian couldn’t contain her smile. “This may be the chance we’ve been waiting for. The castle will be filled with strangers. We’ll get into the castle and search the master bedchamber before the earl even realizes w—”
    “Nay, lass.” Ian shook his head like a shaggy bear. “ ’Twill still be heavily guarded. Besides, Loudan may no’ know the local gentry, bu’ he knows wha’ ye look like. He saw ye when he came to chase us fra’ the castle, wavin’ his papers under yer nose.”
    “True.” She pursed her lips. “I’ll need a disguise—”
    “Nay, nay, nay !” Ian’s face was dark as thunder. “Ye canna go into tha’ castle, and tha’ is tha’.” He turned to Widow Reeves. “Tell her she canna go. She’ll listen to ye.”
    Widow Reeves looked surprised. “I dinna think she will—will ye, lass?”
    It was clear Murian might have to do this without Ian’s help, so she said brightly, “I’m willna think aboot anything tonight. I’m too tired.” But she would think about it, and by all that was holy, she’d get into that castle and find Robert’s journal.
    “See,