Free Lois Greiman by The Princess, Her Pirate Page B

parts.”
    “They can fall off?”
    He pulled back his shoulders. “I have heard it said. Surely, you do not wish for that.”
    “No.” MacTavish shook his head slowly. “No I don’t.”
    “Then think long and hard, my lord. Think what you’ve accomplished since coming to this isle. How much more might you achieve if you keep your head.”
    Perhaps there was something of a pun there, for MacTavish smiled ruefully.
    “Aye, I’d like to keep my head.”
    “Then send her back to the dungeon. ’Tis surely where she belongs. Forget this foolishness with Lord Wheaton. It can only cause you grief.”
    Burr stepped into the doorway. “Bert,” he said, toasting the other with a spiced custard he held in his gigantic hand. Part of it toppled down his vest and rolled to the floor. “You’re back from old Parree, aye?”
    Sir Albert turned slowly. Rarely had she seen more disdain on a man’s face, not even when he’d looked at her. “Aye.” He bowed his head slightly. “I have returned from Paris.”
    “The lads there are a lively lot, I hear.”
    The tiny man’s thin lips pursed. “Was it your idea to bring the chit here?” he asked.
    “The chit?” asked Burr, then nodded. “You mean Magical Megs, here? Nay. It wasn’t me own idea. She swooned all pretty at Cairn’s feet. The lad thought of it himself. You can hardly blame him for taking her to his bed.” He paused, looking Sir Albert up and down. “Or maybe you can.”
    The room fell silent.
    “She should be returned to Pikeshead.”
    “Pikeshead? The lass be too clever to stay there for long.” Something flashed in Burr’s eyes. “Besides, the place is crawling with murderers and sodomizers. Surely you wouldn’twish that on your worst enemy.” His gaze sharpened. “Maybe your best friend, but—”
    “You go too far!” Albert’s voice shook.
    “Leave the lass alone. She’s done you no harm.”
    “If she harms my lord MacTavish, she harms—”
    “What do you think she’s likely to do, the wee slip of a thing? Wrestle him to the ground and have her way with him?”
    “I know her type.”
    “I rather doubt it.”
    “She deserves to be hanged.”
    “Have you nothing better to worry on, Bert? Napoleon invades Russia. England’s regent is a fool, and trouble brews in Sedonia, threatening to bubble over on Teleere itself. But you are worried that the lad here might find himself a bonny lass, dashing your hopes for—”
    “You are a cretin and a degener—”
    “Get out, the two of you.” MacTavish sounded tired.
    “My lord—”
    “Shut up,” he ordered.
    “Tav—”
    “You too,” he said, and strode toward the door. They turned to follow him. “Peters.” His voice was just short of a yell. His lieutenant appeared in less than an instant, his face strained, his eyes wide.
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “I’ll be gone for some hours. I’m leaving the girl here. Can I trust you to keep her safe?”
    “Yes, my lord. Without a doubt, my lord. I’ll not fail you again, my lord.”
    MacTavish nodded curtly and continued through the door. She heard his voice from the far side. “Get her a meal and a change of garments.”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “And a bath.”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “And do not let her escape.”
    “No, my lord. Of course not, my lord. I’ll watch her every moment.”
    “Every moment?” MacTavish’s tone was strange and suddenly clearer, as if he’d turned back.
    “Well not…not when she’s bathing, my lord.”
    “Very well.” She heard footsteps again, then, “And Peters, relax. She’s only a lass. I’m certain you can handle the job.”

Chapter 6
    H e took a carriage to Pikeshead, gritting his teeth against the jostle and jolts of the horrid contraption. Carriage rides had never improved his disposition. As a lad he had learned that horses tended to be fractious and unpredictable, opinionated and sour-minded. Not like the sea, where he could see a swell coming for miles and guess every dip of his