His Judas Bride by Shehanne Moore Read Free Book Online

throat. But, not only did she need to kill these thoughts dead, she now needed to focus on making him give her the benefit of the doubt. Twenty-two was not seventeen, she accepted that. She was meant to have lived in Edinburgh. So of course it was probably expected she would be a little worldlier.
    There was still a limit to just how much, but so long as she stopped this, stopped everythingnow, it would be fine. Why give him, of all people, the opportunity to suspect anythingwas amiss, when it was vital she get Arland back?
    These years in Edinburgh, a whirl of balls and parties, were meant to have turned her into a proper glen princess, the ideal chieftain’s wife, not some damned shrew, incapable of keeping her mouth shut.
    “You know what I’m thinking?”
    “Yes.”
    He glanced up. To an undiscerning woman, his handsome face was cool and contained. But she was a discerning one. She was aware of his intent gaze and the utter stillness with which he regarded her. All of her. Top to toe. Although, of course she did not flinch.
    His eyes narrowed. “Well then, half an hour, you be outside, fully ready to leave.”
    “Fine.”
    Well, so it was. Did he think she couldn’t marry his brother, when she had been locked in a dungeon and made, at the age of seventeen, to know far worse than him? Why blanch at this ruthlessness, when this encounter only made her welcome it?
    She jerked up her chin. “We can go now if you want.”
     
    * * *
     
     
    Go now? They could. Callm was happy to, especially if it meant seeing the back of this troublesome piece. But wasn’t he the one who gave orders around here?
    Cursing beneath his breath, he strode to the door to call Fallon inside. She shook her head and went on plodding back and forward in the snow, which made him clench his fist on the jamb. Was anyone prepared to do a damn thing he told them this morning?
    He cursed even more foully. The thing was he couldn’t have got past Dug. But there she’dstood cool as a mountain stream as if she’d no idea what she’d done. Locked Dug up and everything. An animal that had seen the heat of battle, chased and savaged McGurkie stravaigers, torn the throats and jaws of horse and dog alike, yet was terrified out its coat by her.
    A damned wisp who didn’t even reach his shoulder—something else that wasn’t his type either when it came to women. Morven was tall. And when she stepped out into the yard, what had she been planning exactly? To run after that damned army she’d brought along with her?
    Well, within half an hour they would be underway. Yes. He would see how eager she was then, how long it took before she ran the same screaming mile all Ewen’s women did. The Brotherhood could make wagers on it. He gave her five seconds. If that.
    Already she looked green as pea soup and her cloak looked as if she’d slept in it, for all she’d stood there coolly defying him. He knew because he frequently did such things himself. That was if she’d slept at all.
    So really he must conclude for all her talk about things being fine and the cool way she’d glided past him into the chamber, her chin so high, the miracle was she didn’t strike her forehead on the lintel. She was up to something all right. Half an hour?
    She would bed Ewen if he had to damn well hold her legs apart himself.
     
    * * *
     
     
    “The half hour is up.”
    As her voice peeled across the hall with the clarity of a bell, Callm shoved a spoonful of steaming porridge into his mouth.
    Damn, but did she have any idea what it was like eating breakfast in such congenial surroundings? A fire roaring in the hearth. Half a dozen or so Brotherhood men, those who had joined him this morning, and those who had been here last night, dotted around the table. Fallon darting about with plates of oat bannocks. Dug at his feet. Meg and the serving girls pottering in the background.
    Dinner? Who knew what that would be? Or where it would be eaten. Tea? A joke usually. Supper? That