The Black Knave by PATRICIA POTTER Read Free Book Online Page A

a weapon?”
    “You do not understand Scotland, today, my lady. Everyone is using whatever—and whoever—they can to survive.”
    “There is honor left.”
    “Honor? Surely you must know that honor left this land long ago.”
    “It certainly left the Forbeses.”
    “I would not be saying those words at Braemoor,” he said. “My brother died of a wound inflicted at Culloden.”
    Her chin went up. “I have heard of what you—and your fellow traitors—did after the battle. Did you, too, enjoy killing women and children? How can you even call yourself a Scot?”
    “You had best watch your tongue. There is little tolerance for Jacobites here. Your beloved Prince Charles is no’ one to be holding up as honorable. He ran, leaving all of his followers to die. ‘Twas his lack of leadership that led to your defeat. Think not to find sympathy here.”
    “I did not expect to find anything here.”
    “Well, then, neither of us will be disappointed,” he said. “Do we have a bargain?”
    She hesitated. “What exactly would you have me do?”
    “You will play the dutiful wife.”
    “And you the dutiful husband?”
    “Nay. But you will not complain.”
    “No?” she said. “I find plenty for which to complain. This … house may be fit for those who ape the English, but no’ for a self-respecting Scot.”
    He held back a smile. He’d wondered if she would get back to the condition of the tower house. He had to admire her spirit. And her powers of observation. Braemoor was in dismal condition. With no woman in charge, his father, never too fastidious in his personal habits, had allowed slovenliness to permeate the tower house.
    He shrugged carelessly. “Then it is your duty to bring Braemoor up to your high standards.”
    She glared at him. “What do I care for Braemoor? Cumberland … and his allies are savages. No wonder you live this way.”
    He sighed heavily. “I have no time for this. I can still tell Cumberland that I have no desire to marry a shrew. To hell with the estates. ‘Tis not worth it.”
    “My … brother?” Her voice suddenly broke.
    “He is not my concern.” The sudden hopelessness in her eyes stabbed him. He wanted to gentle his tone, to tell her he would try to find a way to rescue her brother, but too many other lives were at risk. He could not deviate from a role he’d so carefully created.
    “Is anything your concern?”
    “Aye. My pleasure.”
    The look she cast his way would have quailed a dragon.
    “You have not agreed to my … proposal,” he said.
    “But I have no choice, do I? Do you want an answer merely to enjoy my helplessness?”
    “I do not believe you will ever be helpless,” he responded without thinking. ‘Twas not within his role to admit that. He should care nothing about other people, nor make thoughtful observations of them.
    She narrowed her eyes and he realized she’d caught the inconsistency. She was no simpleton. He would have to be even more careful than he thought.
    “I enjoy my life,” he said with a yawn. “I want no lass complicating it with complaints.”
    “I will have no complaints if you stay away from me.”
    “Ah,” he said, ignoring the insult. “Then we do agree. You manage Braemoor, and I will pursue my own pleasures.”
    He saw her tremble. He watched the spirit fade from the indigo blue. He had not wanted to humble her, but he’d had little choice. He didn’t want her to look his way too closely. If she had even a hint of his activities, then might she not trade the price on his head for her own freedom? Or that of her brother?
    “I will expect you to be ready for the wedding in a week. I will send out messengers announcing the happy union.”
    It was a dismissal. Her face flushed red, then she turned and, her head held high, left him.
    A marriage to that self-absorbed popinjay ? Her heart froze at the prospect.
    At least he wouldn’t claim her in bed. He said. Claimed. Promised . The last thought lingered in her mind. His