Elizabeth English - The Borderlands 02 by Laird of the Mist Read Free Book Online Page A

almost anything. What he would not give was his hope of seeing
the woman once again. He would suffer even Brodie for that chance.
    "I've sunk low, indeed, to be seeking work from
the likes of you," he answered, but he forced himself to smile as he said
it. "Now get your long nose out of my business and give me a drink while
we settle things between us."
    He waited, every muscle tensed. Brodie could go either
way. But Maxwell's heir was in a good humor tonight. He roared with laughter
and slung an arm across Alistair's shoulder.
    "All right, all right! Kirallen's loss will be my
gain and we'll say no more about it! Come and get yourself a mug."
    Alistair allowed himself to be led off to a corner. There
they bickered back and forth, but he was careful to let Brodie get the better
of the bargain. God forbid he'd be the one to put the man into one of his
tempers. Not now that he knew who would suffer for it.
     
    O nce the singing began Deirdre crept into the hallway
leading to the kitchens, keeping close against the wall. She spied Brodie
seated at the corner of the long table, deep in conversation with the
golden-haired stranger.
    Back in the kitchens Jennie and the other women were
all in a flutter, chattering like magpies about the man. Deirdre had felt a
cold shock run through her when they named him. She had heard of him, of course.
No one could live on this particular stretch of border and not know of Sir
Alistair Kirallen, a name shrouded in treachery and scandal.
    While no one was quite sure what had happened at
Ravenspur Manor last year, one on point the rumors all agreed. Alistair
Kirallen had turned traitor to his clan. His own foster father, who it was said
had loved him well, had been driven to cast him out.
    He was a banished man. An outlaw. A man with no home,
no kin, no claim to honor. A bitter smile twisted Deirdre's lips. Well, at
least she was consistent. When it came to men, she had no judgment, as she had
proven yet again.
    He looked different than he had seemed to her on
Beltane Eve; older, harder, with an almost tangible aura of command shimmering
about him. Even his plain leather jerkin and old cloak could not disguise the
fact that this was a man accustomed to be giving orders, not taking them.
    As Brodie talked on, Sir Alistair's eyes moved over
the hall, taking the measure of the men he was to fight with. Deirdre noted the
keen intelligence in his glance and imagined he had already summed up their
strengths and weaknesses, labeled and divided them into fighting units.
    They said that when he was just twenty, Sir Alistair
had been chief among Kirallen's legendary band of knights. His extraordinary
rise to power had made his sudden disgrace all the more fascinating to his
neighbors.
    Even sitting still, he was filled with a restless
energy that showed in the drumming of his fingers on the trestle, the tapping
of one booted foot on the rush-strewn floor. His fine light hair had come loose
from its braid and caught the torchlight, making a halo around his face. Yet
there was little of the angel about this man, unless it was a fallen one.
    His eyes were just as Deirdre remembered, large and
brilliant, set wide above broad flat cheekbones. For the first time she noticed
that his high-bridged nose was slightly crooked, as though it had been broken.
    It was a strong face, undeniably attractive. Certain
it was that every other man vanished once he walked into the hall. And from the
talk she'd heard in the kitchens, she wasn't the only woman he affected in that
way.
    Whatever had he been doing last Beltane Eve? Deirdre
could not begin to imagine what strange ritual had set his soul to wandering
through the night. But it had been him. Of that she had no doubt. And he had
recognized her as well, though God be thanked he'd held his tongue about it. At
least so far.
    She remembered now the things they'd said and done
that night and felt the blood drain from her face. What had she been thinking?
Who would have thought