Beyond the Highland Mist Read Online Free PDF Page B

in pain, not if she could do something about it. This man wanted something from her; maybe she could bargain for something in exchange. “Let Bess go,” she said.
    “Do you pledge your fealty to me in this matter?” He had the flat eyes of a snake, Adrienne realized. Like the python in the Seattle zoo.
    “Let her go from this keep. Give her her freedom,” she clarified.
    “Nay, milady!” Bess shrieked, and the beast chuckled warmly.
    His eyes were thoughtful as he stroked Bess’s leg. “Me-thinks, Janet Comyn, you don’t understand much of this world. Free her from me and you condemn her to death by starvation, rape, or worse. Free her from my ‘loving attentions’ and the next man may not be so loving. Your own husband may not be so loving.”
    Adrienne shivered violently as she struggled to tearher gaze from the plump white hand stroking rhythmically. The source of Bess’s pain was the same hand that fed her. “Protected” her. Bile rose in Adrienne’s throat, almost choking her.
    “Fortunately, he already thinks you’re mad, so you may talk as you will after this day. But for this day from dawn till dusk, you will swear that you are Janet Comyn, only blood daughter of the mighty Red Comyn, sworn bride of Sidheach Douglas. You will see this day through as I tell you—”
    “But what of the real Janet?” she couldn’t help but ask.
    Slap!
How had the man managed to hit her before she could so much as blink? As he stood quivering with rage above her, he said, “The next blows won’t be to your face, bitch, for the gown won’t cover there. But there are ways to hit that hurt the most, and leave no mark. Don’t push me.”
    Adrienne was silent and obedient through all the things he told her then. His message was plain. If she was silent and obedient, she would stay alive. Dream or no dream, the blows hurt here, and she had a feeling that dying might just hurt here too.
    He told her things then. Hundreds of details he expected her to commit to memory. She did so with determination; it temporarily prevented her from contemplating the full extent of her apparent insanity. She repeated each detail, each name, each memory that was not hers. From careful observation of her “father,” she was able to guess at many of the memories that had belonged to the woman whose identity she was now to assume.
    And all the while a soft mantra hummed through the back of her mind.
This cannot be happening. This is not possible. This cannot be happening.
Yet in the forefront of her mind, realist that she was, she understood that the words
can’t
and
impossible
had no bearing when the impossible was indeed happening.
    Unless she woke up soon from a nightmarish and vivid dream, she was in Scotland, the was year 1513, and she was indeed getting married.

C HAPTER 4
    “S HE’S TALL AS J ANET.”
    “Not many as tall as she.”
    “Hush! She
is
Janet! Else he’ll have our heads on serving platters.”
    “What happened to Janet?” Adrienne asked softly. She wasn’t surprised when the mouths of a half-dozen maids clamped shut and they turned their complete attention to dressing her in stalwart silence.
    Adrienne rolled her eyes. If they wouldn’t tell her a thing about Janet, perhaps they’d talk about her bridegroom.
    “So, who is this man I am to wed?”
Sidhawk Douglas. What kind of name was Sidhawk anyway?
    The maids tittered like a covey of startled quail.
    “Truth of it is, milady, we’ve only heard tales of him. This betrothal was commanded by King James himself.”
    “What are the tales?” Adrienne asked wryly.
    “His exploits are legendary!”
    “His conquests are legion. ’Tis rumored he’s traveled the world accompanied by only the most beautiful lasses.”
    “ ’Tis said there isna a comely lass in all of Scotia he hasna tumbled—”
    “—in England, too!”
    “—and he canna recall any of their names.”
    “He is said to have godlike beauty, and a practiced hand in the fine art of