Free Highland Promise by Mary McCall Page B

understood what Baron Rothley meant. A woman capable of directing a large keep was indeed a treasure.
            Brendan wondered how the haughty court women would react when that damned disguise came off.
            "Well, laird." Roland slapped Brendan on the shoulder. "Have you looked your fill at the lass so we can get back to our problem?"
            "Put a guard on Lady Faith," Brendan ordered.
            "I'll set Cleit to first watch," Roland replied. "Now, as to other matters?"
            Brendan massaged the back of his neck as his plaguing headache returned. "That Irishman will be the death of me. Where is Tormey?"
            "He was last seen entering the chamber of Baroness Wilford," Jamie supplied. "The lady's husband is the podgy baron speaking with the king."
            "For the love of..." Brendan wiped a hand over his face in exasperation. "Why my father took on the training of an Irishman eludes me. I never should have allowed him a rank in my guard."
            "The man won his rank," Michael reminded him.
            "The man has no honor," Roland said, scowling.
            "Roland, go with Jamie to find Tormey," Brendan ordered. "I wish to speak to him before we retire for the night."
            "Aye, laird." Roland and Jamie left.
            Michael moved beside Brendan. A shrill female laugh arose above the droning, and the warrior grimaced. "There is a festival by the Thames, Bren. By your leave, we wish to partake of our evening meal there."
            "Seeking better climes?" Brendan asked with a wry lift of his brow.
            "I doubt we'll find better climes until we return to the hills."
            "By all means, go. I see no reason for all of us to suffer this mediocrity. Just keep an eye on Tormey if he accompanies you. I'll not have him involved in a scandal with some tavern whore while we're here."
            "Laird Sutherland," a page said, catching Brendan's attention. "His Grace has called for the feast to begin and desires your presence at his table."
            Brendan nodded and bid farewell to Michael. Approaching the head table, he noticed Faith was once again with King Henry.
            "I desire you at my side while I dine, Lady Faith," the king said. "You will sit to my left."
            A servant drew out the wide chair, which seated two, and Faith settled in her place. Her brother moved to sit beside her.
            "Baron Hawkurst, you will sit with Lady Imogina," King Henry ordered. "The two of you should become better acquainted."
            Leland bowed to his king and moved down the table to the king's right to join his shy betrothed, who had reached the great age of thirteen.
            "Ah, Laird Sutherland," the king said as if he had just noticed Brendan's presence. "Come share a trencher with Lady Faith. She is one of my favorite people."
            Faith's palms fisted in her lap. She glanced at Brendan fleetingly as if afraid he might give her away. Then she hesitantly raised a hand toward him.
            "I am honored to meet you, milady." He took her hand and bowed. "Your king boasts of your virtues." He felt a shiver move through her arm into his fingers.
            She cast him a quick glance of thanks and bowed her head. "'Tis I who am honored, milord."
            Her dusky tones rippled through him, and a feeling of warmth spread inside his gut. Trying to ignore his response, Brendan sat next to her, taking up most of the seat. Her light feminine fragrance cloaked him. Without much thought, he pressed his thigh against the full length of hers under the table.
            She released a tiny gasp. He glanced down. Her pulse bounded in her neck, and her color rose high. Glad she suffered the same affliction as he, Brendan couldn't help taunting her. "Are you well, milady? You appear a wee bit