Free The Night Side by Melanie Jackson Page B

twice caused her to miss with the shuttle and snarl her work.
    Frances sighed at her wandering wits and consoled herself with reason. She was not to be blamed for herinquisitiveness. It was an inborn trait. And Colin Mortlock was not at all what she had expected. In her experience, sporting-mad gentlemen were not interested in mundane household matters. To their minds, meals appeared by magic. Linens mended themselves. One might completely disarrange the furniture or set new servants to old tasks, and as long as they had a place at the table and a fire in the hearth, most men would not notice any difference. They cared for golf and hawking—and perhaps debauchery—and nothing else.
    Yet, from the moment he had entered the castle, she could see that Colin Mortlock was making careful observation of its arrangements, assessing the people who worked there and treating everyone—except Tearlach—with great courtesy and interest. He’d even urged George to confide in him about their alterations to the castle’s defenses and dungeons.
    Frances bit her lip. Perhaps it had been a mistake allowing anyone into the castle. Colin Mortlock and MacJannet were temporarily isolated at Noltland and could not carry tales back to England, but eventually the world would suspect that there were almost no men left at the keep—only ancients and babes—and then others would come calling, swords in hand. What if Colin said something to these tiresome men when they came to woo her by force? Though probably reticent with her other neighbors, he would likely speak to his cousin…
    She had hoped to delay the time when their extreme weakness was revealed until George’s position had been strengthened by recognition from the new regent, or her father’s men had returned home from the war. Could Colin be trusted? Could he be convinced to hold his tongue?
    The facts as they stood were grim enough without betrayal from within. She wished that she could simply throw a blanket over the unpleasant truth and smother it forever. But that was not possible now. She would have to tell this Englishman and his manservant something plausible about why there were no men in the castle, or else reveal the truth and throw herself on his mercy and plead that he keep silent if he ever left them, or if his cousin came to call. Unfortunately, trickery wouldn’t serve. She had no way of conjuring soldiers even for a day.
    Of course, begging for his indulgence didn’t appeal to her either, so that left honesty and an appeal to his better nature.
    However, the amount of truth she told—and when—was still negotiable. She would likely begin by suggesting that most of the men were away taking cattle to market, which would conveniently explain why there were no cattle at Noltland, or else she could say that they were looking after sheep in faraway crofts. It wasn’t a completely preposterous tale to tell a city-dweller from England, especially if everyone told the same story.
    Of course, convincing everyone that they must be discreet was going to be a difficult matter. Desperation was mounting with the approach of winter. Hope that the survivors from Noltland Castle would return home had faltered with word of the English invasion at the Borders. The last of the poor crops was being harvested now. If the winter were light, they would be well enough situated—but if it were long and harsh?
    Many of the women felt that it was better to surrender to one of the other clans than to risk starvation. Frances did not agree. The local chieftains wereapt to go to war upon Noltland the moment control passed into a neighbor’s hands, through sheer bloodymindedness at being denied the castle for themselves. They would then be not only invaded but also besieged. Besides, she was not ready to sacrifice her freedom and George’s birthright just yet.
    Frances bit her lip. It bothered her to lie to Colin Mortlock. It would be difficult to look into his knowing eyes and utter