Charming the Shrew by Laurin Wittig Read Free Book Online Page B

table at the far end of the hall. Duff MacDonell was a large, ugly man. His skin was pocked, and his lank, brown hair hung in his nearly colorless eyes. His nose was so long it seemed to push his mouth down his jutting chin.
    His personality matched his looks.
    Tayg had delivered the earl’s message to the chief as soon as he had arrived. Duff had seemed oddly glad to receive the summons to greet the king, not at all the reaction Tayg had expected.
    Duff MacDonell was a well-known firebrand with delusions of greatness. He was a bully, and his clan was ill-liked because of it. Something was not right here. Maybe ’twas the odd gleam in his eye as Tayg had recited the message to him. Maybe ’twas the way the young chief had commanded him to wait for a message to deliver to Assynt without asking even if he was bound there.
    Maybe he just did not like the man.
    Tayg shook off the odd feeling and turned his attention back to the food in front of him. After a minute, the hum of quiet conversation once more filled the space.
    “You know he’s going to bring that shrew here to live amongst us, do you not?” his dinner companion on his right said.
    “A shrew?” Tayg admired the blond lass and considered his chances for a tumble with her later.
    “Aye, he’s to marry the Shrew of Assynt, then he’ll bring her here to Dun Donell. She is said to be as ugly as Duff and twice as mean.”
    “Why would he wed such a lass? ’Tis not for love, is it?”
    “Oh, nay,” said the auburn-haired lass on his left. “Our Duff has a plan. The Shrew has five braw brothers and her father is kin to the MacLeods of Lewes, who control much of the islands and the coast. Duff seeks to ally us with them.”
    Tayg chewed a tender chunk of venison for a moment before he realized exactly what the implication of the alliance meant.
    “So your chief, he has no hope for King Robert’s cause?” Perhaps the king was more right than he knew to command the MacDonell to appear in Dingwall and swear fealty to the crown. Or was it already too late?
    The auburn-haired lass shrugged. “I know not and I care not what alliances come of the wedding. ’Tis the women of the clan who will have to live most with the shrew. ’Tis the women of the clan who will have to teach her to mind her manners if she wishes not to be taken to the sea and left on a rock to drown.”
    Tayg chuckled. “I do not envy the woman her time here.”
    “I do not envy her wedding Duff, either,” she said. “Netta there,” she nodded at his blond dinner companion, “hoped to wed him, but as for me—” she looped her arm around Tayg’s and leaned close enough so he could feel her soft breast pressed against him “—I prefer a more bonny countenance upon a man.” She smiled broadly at him and batted her eyelashes.
    Tayg grinned at her, then glanced at blond Netta. A well-developed tear spilled off her lashes and trailed prettily down her cheek. He’d long ago learned that many lasses could cry when they thought ’twould benefit them. He was wise to her game but would play along. Perhaps he could learn more about his host, whom the king clearly had reason to distrust. He wiped away that tear then leaned close.
    Nuzzling her ear, he murmured, “’Tis clear the lout does not deserve you.”
    Her eyes widened and the smile was back. He grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows, drawing a soft laugh from her.
    “Will you tell us another story?” the other lass asked, drawing his attention back to her.
    “I will, just as soon as I finish this delicious venison pie.” He signaled for his ale mug to be refilled, then quickly ate his meal. He might not wish to wed, but he could hope to have his bed warmed by one of these fair lasses this night, and if he learned aught of use to the king from her, then ’twould be doubly worth his time. Perhaps his trip to Dun Donell might not need to be so hastily concluded after all.
    When Tayg was done eating, he returned to his stool by the