Some Enchanted Evening by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online

in Britain? No . Are the newspapers abuzz about lost royalty? No ." Robert walked Blaize around the square, still speaking to him in that low, gentle voice he used to tame the wild creatures. "God in heaven, I've heard my share of falsehoods in my time. My men told grandiose tales that changed to fit the circumstances."
    Blaize had a beautiful gait, and his temperament, while sprightly, was sweet. But wherever Blaize walked, the crowd observed the horse's dancing hooves and moved aside, for the stallion eyed the men warily, as if expecting a blow. Robert wondered what had made the creature so distrustful — and thus a perfect confidant for Robert. "My men were criminals given the choice between the gallows and the army. What excuse does yon lassie have for telling a lie that dwarfs all those other lies?" Robert stroked Blaize's nose and confided, "Although, I have to tell you, that makes her ideal for my plan."
    Blaize's brown eyes considered Robert as if the horse were weighing his character. It should, perhaps, have been discomfiting, but in his life Robert had done worse things than blackmailing a princess. Worse things for worse reasons.
    As they neared the alehouse, Tomas MacTavish called, "M'lord, bring the beastie over so we can see him."
    Robert grimaced. See the horse? Yes, the old men would want that. But more, they wanted to talk about the woman, for as he approached, they were grinning and rocking back and forth in their chairs like a gaggle of matchmaking grandmothers.
    "Lovely stallion," Gilbert Wilson said.
    "Lovelier wench," Hamish MacQueen quipped. "And 'tis proud o' ye we are, m'lord, fer acquiring her so quickly."
    "I didn't acquire her." Not in the way they meant. "I'm taking her where I can watch her." And use her.
    "Eh?" Henry MacCulloch cupped his ear and turned to Tomas.
    Tomas shouted, "He said he was taking her where he could watch her."
    "Aye, watch her, aye." Henry elbowed Hamish in the ribs. "Watch her close, I say. Ye caught yerself a fair one, m'lord."
    "I have no interest in —" Robert hesitated.
    Benneit MacTavish supplied the words. "Parting her beard?"
    The old men's cackling made the horse restive, and Robert walked him across the square, then walked him back. He didn't know why he returned to the old men. Maybe it was because they, unlike any of the other people in this village and in society, had no pretences. Age, poverty, and loneliness had stripped them of their masks, and they said what they thought and they meant what they said. How refreshing after so many years of lies.
    As he drew near, Hughina Gray stepped out of the alehouse, drying her hands on her apron. "Pay them na mind, m'lord. They sit and gossip all day like auld besoms, take up space, and buy scarcely a tankard of ale between them."
    Because they had no place else to go except home to relatives too busy to bother with them and no coin to purchase ale to wet their whistle. They looked shamefaced at her accusation, and shuffled their feet and played with their canes. Old farmers, old sailors, old merchants — when they finally died, everyone was relieved. Everyone except Robert, who could come here and listen to them natter about events and times gone by, and never have to talk about himself, or pretend to be whole, or hide the eternal midnight of his soul. "Then serve them up a tankard of ale apiece every day, Hughina, and send the charge to me."
    Hughina dropped her apron. "But, m'lord —"
    He turned his gaze on her. "I'm good for it."
    "Of course ye are, m'lord. I didn't mean t' say . . ." She must have seen something in his face that frightened her, for she paled and stammered, "I — I'll get them now, m'lord."
    As she hurried into the alehouse, Henry said, "Thank ye, m'lord. Ye dunna have t'."
    Benneit intervened before proud Henry could refuse. "But we're grateful." He stretched out his wrinkled hand to accept a dripping mug from the chastened Hughina. "We'll toast yer health every day."
    Robert stroked Blaize's