The Bride by Julie Garwood Read Free Book Online

then added, "Only those Scots born and raised in the Highlands, of course. The Lowland people are very intelligent, just like you, Beak."
     
    "Don't try soothing me with pretty words," Beak countered. "It ain't going to work this time. I can see how worried Mary is. Why, she's wringing the skin right off her hands. What'd you tell her?"
     
    "I merely mentioned that I'd heard the Scots were a lusty people."
     
    "Well, now, Mary, that ain't so bad," Beak admitted.
     
    "With big appetites," Mary interjected.
     
    "And that's a sin?"
     
    "It is," Mary answered.
     
    "Gluttony," Jamie supplied, grinning.
     
    "Jamie said they fight all the time."
     
    "No, Mary, I said they fight most of the time. If you're going to repeat my remarks, do get them straight."
     
    "Do they, Beak?"
     
    "Do they what, Mary?"
     
    "Fight all the time."
     
    "I just said they liked to raid," Jamie announced with a delicate shrug.
     
    Beak noticed the fine blush covering Jamie's high cheekbones. She was obviously embarrassed that her sister was telling on her.
     
    Jamie was up to mischief, all right. She was looking just as guilty as she had the time she convinced Mary her papa had signed the order giving the convent guardianship.
     
    She did like to jest. She was a sure sight to behold, too, dressed in Beak's favorite color, a deep royal blue. Her hair was unbound and the thick curls fell in chaotic splendor well past her slender shoulders. There were smudges of dirt on her nose and chin.
     
    Beak wished Laird Kincaid could get a clear look at Jamie now, for her violet eyes fairly sparkled with joy.
     
    Mary looked just as appealing. She wore pink today, but the pretty gown was bothered with splotches of dirt. Beak wondered what trouble the two sisters had gotten into, then decided he really didn't want to know.
     
    He was pulled back to the topic of the Scotsmen when Mary blurted out, "Jamie told me the Scots take what they want when they want it. She also said they have special preferences."
     
    "And what might those be?" Beak asked.
     
    "Strong horses, fat sheep, and soft women," Mary said.
     
    "Horses, sheep, and women?"
     
    "Yes, Beak, and in that order. Jamie says they'd rather sleep next to their horses than their women. Well? Is it true? Do the women come last?"
     
    Beak didn't answer Mary. He stared at Jamie, silently willing her with his frown to answer her sister. He thought Jamie looked a bit distressed, yet wasn't certain if she was about to burst into apology or laughter.
     
    Laughter won out. "Honestly, Mary, I was only teasing you."
     
    "Just look at the two of you," Beak announced. "Covered with dirt like peasant babies. Fine ladies, indeed! And you, missy," he added, pointing his finger at Jamie, "laughing like a loon. Just what were you two doing in that meadow, I'm wondering?"
     
    "He's trying to turn the topic," Mary told her sister. "I'm going to get an apology from you, Jamie, before I move from this spot. And if I don't think you're sincere, then I'm telling Father Charles. He'll give you a penance you won't soon forget."
     
    "It's your fault, not mine," Jamie countered. "You're as easy to lead along as a pup."
     
    Mary turned back to Beak. "You'd think my sister would be a little more understanding of my predicament. She doesn't have to stand before the Scottish warlords and pray to God she isn't chosen. Papa's bent on hiding her away."
     
    "Only because I wasn't named in the king's order," Jamie reminded her sister.
     
    "I ain't so sure you weren't named," Beak interjected.
     
    "Papa wouldn't lie," Jamie argued.
     
    "As to that, I won't be saying you're right or wrong, Jamie," Beak said. "Mary? Jamie hasn't told you anything terrible about the Scots as far as I can tell. You're fretting over nothing, lass."
     
    "She told me other stories, Beak," Mary said. "I was suspicious, of course, because her stories were so outrageous. I'm not that gullible, Beak, no matter what my sister thinks."
     
    Beak