True Love Brides 02 - The Highlander’s Curse by Claire Delacroix Read Free Book Online Page B

stable. The shorter man still held the reins of his destrier. The third horse, a palfrey, drank from the barrel of water kept for the horses while its reins dangled loose.
    But this was all wrong. Annelise halted in confusion.
    These men were knights .
    Her hunter had worn a kilt. He was no knight, though his valor was not in question.
    More than that, her hunter had been taller than either of these men, and broader of shoulder. His hair had been dark blond and his skin tanned, while these men both had dark hair. The taller one, who seemed more senior, had chestnut hair, while the shorter had hair as black as ebony. Annelise clutched the wolf pelt in her uncertainty.
    Where was her hunter? Knights did not run errands for woodsmen.
    How had these men gotten the pelt?
    And why had they brought it to her?
    The two knights turned to face her, the taller one bowing deeply. “Fair Annelise. How enchanting to meet you.” He stepped forward and claimed her hand, bestowing a kiss upon its back as Annelise watched in silence. He was handsome enough, but there was something about him that Annelise intuitively disliked. He smiled at her with a confidence in his own allure that made her eyes narrow. “I trust you like my gift.”
    She frowned, pretending to be confused. “Gift?”
    He looked pointedly at the pelt. “Which you have received.”
    “You brought this?”
    “Of course. A tribute to your beauty, a wolf slaughtered by my own hand.” He arched a brow, even as anger rose within Annelise. “It is evidence of both my valor and my intentions.” He bowed again. “We battled three such fearsome creatures, Andrew and I…”
    Annelise took a step back, fighting to keep her tone polite. “But I do not know you.”
    The knight chuckled, even though she had interrupted his tale. “Not so well as you will, my fair maiden, that much is certain.” He reached for her hand again. Annelise locked her fingers in the pelt, evading his touch, and saw the flash of irritation in his eyes. Then he smiled, as if all was well, but Annelise noted the tightness around the corners of his mouth. Here was a man accustomed to winning his way, one who did not like to be declined.
    Yet she, meek Annelise, would defy him until her dying breath.
    He bowed deeply. “Orson Douglas at your service, my lady.”
    Annelise indicated the pelt. “Where did you get this?” she asked, knowing she was being rude but needing to hear the fullness of this rogue’s lie.
    “I have told you already.”
    “Tell me again, if you please.” Annelise was aware that both Murdoch and the other knight were watching her closely, but she did not care.
    Orson straightened and his smile turned chilly. “I scraped it from the hide of the monster himself, of course. After I killed him.”
    Annelise was outraged. This knight lied! He stood in Murdoch’s courtyard, a guest of the holding, and lied to her very face. It was a violation of his vows, of Murdoch’s hospitality, and of every trait that made a suitor desirable. It was audacious and appalling—and disgusted Annelise.
    She knew who had killed this wolf. She would wager that she knew who had cured the hide. The pelt had been stolen from her hunter.
    Maybe he had been killed for it. Annelise would not put such an act beyond the abilities of this knight. She took a step back and saw again the anger light in his gaze. She would die alone before she accepted the offer of a man like this.
    But Annelise doubted that Orson would readily accept her refusal.
    “I do not believe it,” she said, lifting her chin.
    The knight inhaled sharply at the implication. His squire developed a fascination with the tending of the horses and the other knight watched Annelise closely.
    “Orson has ridden far to court you, Annelise,” Murdoch said, a warning in his tone.
    “How very kind,” Annelise said, lifting her chin. “I am sorry, but I am not convinced of your tale. I saw this wolf killed and I know you did not do the