Border Lord by Arnette Lamb Read Free Book Online
Authors: Arnette Lamb
laughter and singing; the blacksmith hammered out a tune of his own. At a trough beside the well, a group of women rolled up their sleeves and plunged into the laundry. Nearby, the children played at peevers and tag.
Small herds of black-faced sheep bleated their way down the hay-strewn thoroughfare to the lush carpet of grass in the outer bailey. A pleasantly brisk breeze fluttered the Kerr pennons that framed the open gates.
Only a handful of soldiers wearing Highland bonnets and colorful Kerr plaids patrolled the walls. Where were the others? Searching the yard she spotted Malcolm near the portcullis. Brandishing a wooden sword and shield, the lad battled a tree stump.
Hoping to get a closer look at the courtyard where she'd glimpsed the mysterious shadow last night, Miriam walked to the rear of the castle. Passersby called out greetings as if they'd met her before. None came too close, but then strangers never did when she had Verbatim at her side.
A rickety cart, pulled by a fat jennet and stacked high with peat, rumbled across the yard. As a child, she had loved to stare into the shiny brass brazier filled with glowing clumps of peat.
"Doona get too close, pet," her nanny would say.
Pain squeezed Miriam's chest. The Glenlyon Campbells had bludgeoned poor Nanny to death.
Verbatim tugged on the lead.
Taking a deep breath, Miriam moved on. A stair tower with fishtail arrow slits stood at the back corner of the castle. She stopped at the ten-foot-high wall surrounding the courtyard. From beyond the barrier came the sound of rushing water. To get her bearings, she studied the windows until she located the green velvet drapes that marked her chamber.
Then she located a squat wooden door in the garden wall. She pulled on the iron handle. Well-oiled hinges emitted not a whisper of sound. "Stay close," she said to the hound, then ducked under the portal.
Heat from Verbatim's massive body seeped through Miriam's dress. She rested a hand on the dog. Beneath her fingers she felt the sturdy chain of backbones and the bow of Verbatim's ribs. Her other senses were fixed on the cozy garden before her.
A trysting place, she thought, staring at the fountain that housed a trio of naked marble nymphs emptying urns into a pool. Benches carved with vines and horn-shaped flowers ringed the fountain. The lush motif was repeated on a dozen mosaics set into three walls of the enclosure. The castle proper formed the fourth wall. Against it stood six Grecian urns as tall as she and overflowing with herbs. The perfume of basil, thyme, and fennel sweetened the air. Between the fountain and the castle wall was an elegant flower bed laid out in the shape of the clan symbol: a blazing sun. Bright yellow gorse formed the flames, frost-tinged daisies the center.
Verbatim tugged at the leash, her keen black nose sniffing the ground. Miriam let the slack out of the leash. Head down, the dog picked up a scent, followed it around the giant urns, and discovered a door in the castle wall.
Who else save the lord and lady of the keep would warrant direct access to the private garden? Had Duncan Kerr crept from the castle last night?
Verbatim scratched at the door and whimpered.
"Shush, girl," Miriam whispered.
She tried the door. It was locked. Tonight they'd return, and if she was lucky, she'd find out who used it.
She returned to the castle yard. A pair of dappled grays harnessed to an open carriage emerged from the stable. The earl held the reins. He sat straight and tall and confident, much like a ruler surveying his kingdom. From a distance, he appeared handsome, in a general sort of way. His neck appeared thicker, his shoulders broader.
Spying her, he slumped and sawed on the reins. The team veered right and headed her way. Scoffing at the alluring picture she'd made of him, Miriam vowed to keep her imagination in check.
Traffic on the thoroughfare stopped. The castlefolk and the laborers paused in their conversations to doff their caps.
Small herds of black-faced sheep bleated their way down the hay-strewn thoroughfare to the lush carpet of grass in the outer bailey. A pleasantly brisk breeze fluttered the Kerr pennons that framed the open gates.
Only a handful of soldiers wearing Highland bonnets and colorful Kerr plaids patrolled the walls. Where were the others? Searching the yard she spotted Malcolm near the portcullis. Brandishing a wooden sword and shield, the lad battled a tree stump.
Hoping to get a closer look at the courtyard where she'd glimpsed the mysterious shadow last night, Miriam walked to the rear of the castle. Passersby called out greetings as if they'd met her before. None came too close, but then strangers never did when she had Verbatim at her side.
A rickety cart, pulled by a fat jennet and stacked high with peat, rumbled across the yard. As a child, she had loved to stare into the shiny brass brazier filled with glowing clumps of peat.
"Doona get too close, pet," her nanny would say.
Pain squeezed Miriam's chest. The Glenlyon Campbells had bludgeoned poor Nanny to death.
Verbatim tugged on the lead.
Taking a deep breath, Miriam moved on. A stair tower with fishtail arrow slits stood at the back corner of the castle. She stopped at the ten-foot-high wall surrounding the courtyard. From beyond the barrier came the sound of rushing water. To get her bearings, she studied the windows until she located the green velvet drapes that marked her chamber.
Then she located a squat wooden door in the garden wall. She pulled on the iron handle. Well-oiled hinges emitted not a whisper of sound. "Stay close," she said to the hound, then ducked under the portal.
Heat from Verbatim's massive body seeped through Miriam's dress. She rested a hand on the dog. Beneath her fingers she felt the sturdy chain of backbones and the bow of Verbatim's ribs. Her other senses were fixed on the cozy garden before her.
A trysting place, she thought, staring at the fountain that housed a trio of naked marble nymphs emptying urns into a pool. Benches carved with vines and horn-shaped flowers ringed the fountain. The lush motif was repeated on a dozen mosaics set into three walls of the enclosure. The castle proper formed the fourth wall. Against it stood six Grecian urns as tall as she and overflowing with herbs. The perfume of basil, thyme, and fennel sweetened the air. Between the fountain and the castle wall was an elegant flower bed laid out in the shape of the clan symbol: a blazing sun. Bright yellow gorse formed the flames, frost-tinged daisies the center.
Verbatim tugged at the leash, her keen black nose sniffing the ground. Miriam let the slack out of the leash. Head down, the dog picked up a scent, followed it around the giant urns, and discovered a door in the castle wall.
Who else save the lord and lady of the keep would warrant direct access to the private garden? Had Duncan Kerr crept from the castle last night?
Verbatim scratched at the door and whimpered.
"Shush, girl," Miriam whispered.
She tried the door. It was locked. Tonight they'd return, and if she was lucky, she'd find out who used it.
She returned to the castle yard. A pair of dappled grays harnessed to an open carriage emerged from the stable. The earl held the reins. He sat straight and tall and confident, much like a ruler surveying his kingdom. From a distance, he appeared handsome, in a general sort of way. His neck appeared thicker, his shoulders broader.
Spying her, he slumped and sawed on the reins. The team veered right and headed her way. Scoffing at the alluring picture she'd made of him, Miriam vowed to keep her imagination in check.
Traffic on the thoroughfare stopped. The castlefolk and the laborers paused in their conversations to doff their caps.
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