The Fraser Bride by Lois Greiman Read Free Book Online Page B

Dun Ard’s broad captain of the guard.
    “Bully,” she said, glancing away from the captain and up through her lashes. “Will he be accompanying us?”
    “Bull—oh,” Gilmour said and laughed. “You mean Bullock.”
    She joined in the laughter, making the sound as light as feather down and carefully self effacing. “Bullock,” she said, and glanced once more toward the hillside. The man was as broad as a destrier and as commanding as a king. He would be a good fellow to lead her own frayed troops, but if she was not mistaken, he would not easily be swayed by her careful charm or her simpering silliness. Perhaps she would be better off with a man less experienced but more easily manipulated. She glanced up through her lashes again at Gilmour’s handsome face. “I am such a ninny sometimes,” she said. “Will he be accompanying us on the morrow?”
    “Nay,” Gilmour said. “In truth, he rarely strays far from Mother’s side.”
    “Oh?”
    “It seems he feels he failed her in the past and has determined never to do so again.”
    Loyalty? She forced herself not to scowl as she mulled this over. How was it that a woman obtained such a quality from a man? Could it be that this Bullock was infatuated with Lady MacGowan? Might the two of them be sharing some torrid affair that Roderic merely tolerated? But no. Though the lady of Dun Ard most surely held power in her hand, it did not seem to lessen her laird’s strength. There was something between them. Affection, yes. But more a balance of sorts, a trust. Or was it all a facade, a mask they wore as easily as Anora wore her own?
    “And the others?” she asked. It was an impressive battalion. The light of the setting sun shone like burnished gold off the tips of their lances, attesting to the workmanship of their forgers, the quality of their steel. “How many will be accompanying us?”
    “A dozen. Mayhap a few more.”
    “A
dozen?”
Her mind raced and her memories soared.
    “Lass.” He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “You needn’t worry.”
    A dozen against scores of her enemies. But perhaps it would be enough to secure her and hers against the evils of ignorance and aggression. After all, the MacGowans’ swords looked to be made of Spanish steel. Their leather crested arrows were cast from two types of bows—mechanical crossbows for power, yew longbows for speed. And their horses! Though they were as large as any native stock, they possessed a certain flair, a sort of high-stepping elegance. How had they obtained such marvelous beasts? Had they crossed the typical war horse with barb blood, or—
    “You will be safe,” Gilmour said. “This I promise.”
    “Of course.” She lowered her eyes. “I know naught of war or defenses.” Or at least she wouldn’t if circumstances had not forced her to learn, but with the MacGowans on her side she might yet win the day. After all, they were respected, feared …
    “Lass, you’re pale as a ghost.”
    “Nay! No ghost!” she gasped.
    “What?” He started back slightly, looking startled.
    “I mean, I suppose I am nervous, ‘tis all—after …” She paused, honing her stricken expression.
    “Dear lass.” Drawing her hand into his palm, Gilmour covered it with his other. “You mustn’t dwell on the past. Please. You are safe now. This I promise for—”
    “I will not fail you again.”
    Anora turned with a start to find Lachlan beside her.
    “Brother,” Gilmour said, sounding less than thrilled with his company. “I thought you were training with the others.”
    “And I thought you were overseeing the packing.”
    Gilmour grinned and lifted a casual shoulder. “The lass was fretting about our journey. I felt it me duty to console her.”
    “Kind of you. But you needn’t bother yourself further, for I am here now.”
    ” ‘Tis ever so thoughtful of you—” Gilmour began, then lifted his gaze abruptly from his brother to the distant field and grimaced. “Bugger it! Will Jamie