Free Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) by Lois Greiman Page B

clinging hose and his slashed doublet worn over a silken tunic. Twas simple enough garb, really, but there was something about the way he wore it that drew the eye. His gaze was as steady as a hawk's and his lips were lifted in the vaguest semblance of a knowing grin.
    "Ye fell?" William asked, still holding her hand.
    "Aye!" Shona snapped her attention back to him. "Aye. I, uhh...fell."
    "Poor, sweet little hand," William crooned, bearing it to his lips. He was going to kiss it, to fawn over her, she knew, and though she didn't harbor any particular attraction to this man, she could not help but feel some satisfaction that the irritating Kinnaird was watching.
    But suddenly a pain sparked her neck. She grimaced and drew her hand back to massage away the ache.
    "Is something amiss?" William asked, leaning closer in his concern.
    "Nay. Nay. I simply had a twinge of pain," she said, and rubbed her neck beneath Dragonheart's chain.
    "Let me relieve it," William said, but when he leaned closer, the pain smote her again.
    She pulled away with a grimace then noticed a group of young boys running beside the gardens.
    Kelvin was amongst them. Her gut wrenched nervously at the sight of him, but surely twas better to ride out the storm than hide in the shadows.
    "Kelvin," she called, marshalling her courage. "Come hither." She glanced at William, but if he were irritated by the interruption it didn't show on his face. "Kelvin spent a good deal of time with the king also," she said.
    "Truly?" William studied the boy's haphazard clothing and raised his brows as the lad drew nearer. "Is he a relation of yours?"
    "Nay, not by blood," Shona said, as the boy came to a halt before them. "But mayhap by spirit.
    Tell Laird William what ye think of our king, Kelvin."
    The mischief that seemed a perpetual gleam in the boy's eyes sharpened a mite. "Shall I tell him the truth or what ye ordered me to say when questioned?" he asked.
    She gave him a grin for his irreverent attitude. Though she supposed she should reprimand him for both his words and demeanor, she couldn't help but commune with the imp in him.
    "William is James's cousin," she said.
    "Ahhh, then I liked the king very well indeed," Kelvin said solemnly.
    From her left, Shona heard someone laugh. The sound was deep and husky. Shona felt the hair prickle on the back of her neck, and though she didn't turn toward the noise immediately, she knew in her gut it was Dugald Kinnaird.
    "You are a poor liar, lad," he said, approaching.
    Able to ignore him no longer, Shona turned slowly. When she glanced up, she felt a glow of heat that seemed to begin at Dragonheart and diffuse through her body.
    "I dunna lie poorly," Kelvin argued staunchly. "I lie quite well."
    Dugald laughed again. "Then mayhap tis the subject matter that makes your statement unbelievable. For you see, I, too, have met the king."
    A frown marred the boy's gamin face, but in a fraction of an instant it was gone, replaced by a devilish smile. "And ye didna find him all brilliance and goodness?" he asked.
    "Rather I found him vain and aloof," Dugald said.
    "Tis our king ye speak of!" William said, affronted.
    "Indeed," Dugald agreed, turning his attention to the older man. "Our king, who will be lucky to live to see his tenth birthday."
    "Ye speak treason," William said, showing the first spark of emotion Shona had ever seen in him.
    "Treason? Hardly that. I speak only the truth. I thought surely all of Scotland had heard of the attempts on the lad's life."
    "Nay. Not everyone," William said, rising to his feet, "mayhap only those who had a hand in those attempts."
    "Are you suggesting I might be plotting some heinous crime, Lord William?" Dugald almost smiled, but he had no wish to goad this man too far. Indeed, he didn't plan to fight him, only to bait him a little. For there was nothing like a bit of badgering to bring out a fellow's most elemental characteristics. And in this game of cat-and-mouse, knowing a man's true nature