Free My Cursed Highlander by Kimberly Killion Page B

no desire to rehash the experience. "Give me your word ye willnae try to find your way out of the wood on your own."
    "Of course, you have my word."
    Taveon left her in privacy and waited beside the carriage. No breeze fluttered the leaves or relieved the heat, even with the sun hanging low behind the landscape. Insects had not yet begun their nightly ritual, and only an occasional snort from the horses broke the quiet.
    He waited.
    In silence.
    This is awkward , he decided and reached into his pocket for a bit of licorice. He savored the bittersweet treat, knowing the supply Madame Bianca had sent with him would soon be depleted. 'Twas the one thing he might actually miss about Italy.
    "Can you please make some noise?" Viviana hollered out. "Talk amongst yourself."
    "What would ye like us to discuss?" His attempt to be congenial was met with a growl.
    She muttered a slew of foreign curses. "I care not what you discuss. You can sing for all I care."
    Monroe laughed outright from his seated position at the front of the carriage.
    Remi had dismounted and now stood beside Taveon. "I think the lassie wants ye to serenade her whilst she is pi—"
    "Ouish, Remi!" Taveon rubbed his eyes. Would this day never end? He'd wracked his mind to find sweet words for his new wife since leaving the palace. Something he might be able to use to worm his way into her good graces.
    And now she wanted him to sing?
    Remi started humming a familiar song.
    What did he have to lose? Taveon shrugged and drummed a beat against the carriage.
    "There once was a maiden fair," Remi began on a high-octave note.
    "With curves enough to share," Monroe sang in a deep baritone.
    "She danced in the woodland in naught but bare skin. Without worry or care for the men who peeked in."
    "Ooohhh," Taveon led them into the chorus. "A one for the laddies whose eyes she blessed, and a two for the men who ogled her breasts, and a three for the warriors she put to the test. For a bonnie lass was she."
    "For a bonnie lass was she," Remi and Monroe repeated.
    "Then came October faire, and frost took o'er the air."
    "No more came the maiden to show her favors. So sad were the men, they sulked through their labors."
    "Then alas came July and what graced their eyes was of no surprise. For a bonnie lass was she."
    "Ooohhh," all three men held the note. "A one for the laddies whose eyes she blessed, and a two for the men who ogled her breasts, and a three for the warriors she put to the test. For a bonnie lass was—"
    "Enough!" Viviana shouted from the edge of the thicket causing the awkward silence to return.
    Taveon rushed to aid her, grateful he didn't have to hide his grin as he guided her through the ditch. 'Twas astounding how a tune could lift one's spirits. "Ye gave me your word. Ye could have stumbled."
    "I didn't want to interrupt your ditty." Thin black brows flared out at the tips.
    "The third verse is even better." Remi opened his mouth, but slammed it shut when Viviana punched her fists onto her hips.
    Taveon assisted her back into the carriage and instead of closing the door, which would have been the sane thing to do, he followed her and her sweet citrus scent inside. He closed the door and poked his head out the window, his attention set on Remi. "Tie my mount to the back of the carriage and ride ahead. See if there is a place to bed down for the night."
    "Aye, m'laird."
    Taveon banged on the side of the carriage. "Keep moving, Monroe."
    The sudden jerk of the carriage threw him into the seat opposite Viviana. Her knees, held tightly together, were positioned between his thighs as there was little room inside the carriage. While it might be too soon to hold a civil conversation with her, he intended to try. She was, after all, his wife. The tiniest pressure gripped his chest as he looked into her swollen eyes and realized he didn't want her to hate him.
    "I do not need to be entertained, m'laird. I'm quite accustomed to doing nothing."
    "Mayhap ye packed the wind