Some Enchanted Evening by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online Page A

nose. "That's all I ask."
    The men lifted the mugs to him, then swallowed the rich, dark brew eagerly.
    Hamish sighed with satisfaction. "Mither's milk."
    Gilbert cast a dark glance at Hughina. "From a withered tit."
    In a flash Hughina recovered her bite. "Ye dunna have t' take it if ye dunna like the source."
    Gilbert opened his mouth to retort, saw Robert slowly shaking his head, and swallowed more of the ale instead.
    Visibly cheered by the liquid refreshment, Tomas clanked his tankard on the table. "Ach, m'lord, we're all men here. Ye can't expect us t' believe ye have na interest in that fine and royal piece."
    Robert sidestepped the question. "She's too young, and I don't tangle with princesses."
    "How auld do ye suppose she is?" Benneit wondered.
    "Seventeen. Eighteen," Robert said. The same age as his youngest sister, Prudence, and too young to be lying and swindling.
    "Two-and-twenty if she's a day," Hughina said. "May I get ye a tankard too, m'lord?"
    "I thank you." He didn't want it, but she'd worry if he didn't take it. Worry that he was truly displeased with her when in fact he cared about her not at all. He did care about Clarice's age, and about Hughina's certainty. Was Hughina jealous of the younger woman? Is that why she claimed Clarice was older? Or did she see something he did not? For if it was true, if Clarice was indeed two-and-twenty . . .
    He himself was one-and-thirty, and after the battles and the smells and the death and the hunger, he felt older than dirt. He wouldn't debauch a young girl, but if Clarice were older, with a bit of experience under her belt . . . that changed how he would approach her. There were ways to cajole women that had nothing to do with blackmail.
    All the old men's cackling stopped at the same time, and their faded eyes were glued to a spot behind Robert.
    The princess must have stepped back into the square.
    In a hoarse voice Tomas said, "She's headed right fer us."
    "My chimney's smoking" Benneit whispered.
    "Hell, my chimney's afire!" Henry's voice carried halfway to the English border.
    While the other old men hushed him, Robert turned to face the square. Yes. Here she came. Clarice looked like an angel and deceived like a demon, and yet when he gazed on her his body stirred. Not because he'd been too long without a woman, but for her . Her smile, her walk, her hair, her body . . . that body.
    Her blond hair was cradled into a net snood at the nape of her neck, and artfully arranged wisps escaped and fluttered around her face and down her back, catching the heat of the sun and warming the blood of every male in sight. Her dark brows arched over amber-brown eyes that glinted with good humor and a lazy sensuality that each man believed she meant for him.
    Hughina made a disgusted sound and with a rustle of skirts disappeared into the alehouse. Sticking her head back out, she snapped, "There's na fool like an auld fool."
    As she disappeared again, the men sadly shook their heads.
    "That one needs some honey," Gilbert said.
    "A honey," Hamish said.
    "A husband," Tomas agreed.
    Then, in unison, they lost interest in Hughina, for the princess stepped up and cast a merry smile at the old men who were creaking to their feet. "Lord Hepburn, would you introduce me to these handsome gentlemen?"
    The old men's papery complexions suffused with color, and Gilbert almost tottered over in an elegant bow as Robert introduced him.
    Clarice firmly clasped Gilbert by the arm, and as if she hadn't noticed his unsteadiness said, "Good day, gentlemen. How go the games?"
    "Guid." Tomas puffed out his thin chest. "I won."
    Benneit retorted, "If ye can call cheating winning."
    The princess extended her hand to Tomas. "I've not had a challenging game of checkers for many a long day. Perhaps when Lord Hepburn allows me time free of my duties, I could come and play a game."
    "That would be grand, Yer Highness." Tomas cherished her hand between his arthritic fingers.
    "I'm na mean cheater meself, Yer