Free Kill or Be Kilt by Victoria Roberts Page A

table grabbed her arm and pulled her close.
    â€œTell me. Did you serve wine to all the women over there? I’d be amazed if any of them drank ale.” His comrades laughed in response, and the man slapped the woman on the bottom before he let her go. “They must be here for court. I hear the king makes them crawl out from under their rocks in the north to come to London once a year.”
    â€œAnd I heard they’re nothing but a bunch of barbarians. Have you heard them speak? One can barely understand their words,” said another arse at the table.
    Elizabeth leaned forward. Lowering her voice, she asked, “Pardon, but are those men talking about you?”
    Ruairi patted her hand. “Donna pay them any heed.”
    â€œThat’s very bold and isn’t right. You know how my sisters and I become cross with you when you speak about England the way you do, but those men have no right to say such horrible words either. They don’t even know you, and I find their manners sorely lacking.”
    â€œI donna think they worry overmuch about manners, but Ruairi is right. Pay them no heed,” said Fagan.
    There was a heavy silence around the table when the woman returned with their meals. “Here you are.” She placed the food in front of them and wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll bring you some bread with your meal. Is there anything else I can bring you?”
    â€œNo, thank you. This looks delicious,” said Elizabeth.
    â€œMy pleasure, m’lady. I made the stew myself.”
    â€œThen I’m certain it’s very good.”
    No sooner had the woman turned away from the table when they all ate like they hadn’t eaten in days. A few moments later, the lass returned with the bread. Ian chuckled as they all reached for a piece at the same time. He broke off a chunk and handed it to Elizabeth.
    â€œThank you, Laird Munro.” She turned to Ruairi. “When do you want to leave for the palace on the morrow?”
    He wiped the crumbs from his lips. “Right after we break our fast.”
    â€œAnd you don’t know how long we’ll remain?” asked Elizabeth.
    â€œNay. Our names will be put on a long list for the king. When he is ready, he will grant us an audience. Until then, we wait.”
    One voice could be heard above all others in the hall.
    â€œI think they call them kilts, but I could never wear one of those skirts. If I did, I think my betrothed might question my preferences.”
    Ruairi, Fagan, and Ian had known each other for years, so much that they knew the thoughts of one another without a spoken word between them. And this was one of those times. If the English bastard didn’t shut his mouth, the man was going to find himself in a heap of trouble with three Highlanders who were tired and worn.
    When a worried expression crossed Elizabeth’s face, Ruairi said, “The men are young and foolish. Finish your meal.” She looked down at her empty bowl.
    â€œI’m afraid that I can no longer keep my eyes open. I saw my trunks being carried up to my room. Are you ready to retire, or will you be staying for a while longer?”
    Ruairi stood. “I’ll escort ye to your room.” With a tip of his head, he gestured toward his drink. “And then I’ll be back to finish my ale.”
    Elizabeth stood and brushed down her skirts. She placed her hand on Fagan’s shoulder. “Good night. I’ll see you on the morrow.”
    When her eyes met Ian’s, his heart jumped in response. He wasn’t sure what the hell that was about, especially because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her until she was out of sight.
    â€œDamn. I’d like to give that chit a good tupping. I wonder if she’s chaste. She looks soft and ripe for the picking if you ask me.”
    Ian glanced sharply around, his eyes blazing. He flew to his feet and closed the distance between him and the blond