Chieftain Read Online Free PDF Page A

and adore. Drummond’s offhanded account tarnished the second happiest event of Clare’s short life. Only Alasdair’s birth had ranked higher.
    Why couldn’t Drummond, Johanna thought with sadness, allow himself one loving memory of the past? It was a poor tribute to a woman who had gone to her grave with his name on her lips.
    Incensed at his callousness, she hurried down the stairs and through the common room to the main entryway of the keep, where she snatched up her basket and her mantle. “I thought you wanted to accompany me to the village.”
    “Oh, I did and still do.” He took the wrap and dropped it over her shoulders. “But your talk of making children distracted me.”
    So frustrated at him she thought she might scream, Johanna counted to five, then took a deep breath. “I shan’t distract you again, my lord.”
    His gaze moved to her breasts. “I’m sure,” he said, meaning the opposite.
    Her first impulse was to challenge him, but Johanna thought better of it; she intended to keep a distance between them.
    Hooking her basket in the crook of her elbow, she preceded him out the door. “What would you like to see first?”
    You, naked and writhing beneath me, Drummond wanted to say. Instead, he stifled his base urges. Before he took Clare fully to wife again, she would reveal the details of her adulterous affair with the man who was now the king. Then she would beg her husband’s forgiveness. But by all the saints, she was more enticing today, and she belonged to him.
    On that gratifying thought, Drummond pulled the door closed behind him and surveyed his surroundings.
    Built in the modern concentric design, Fairhope Tower stood on a high mound. At the base of the hill, instead of a moat, a hay-strewn lane ringed the keep. Beyond the now empty thoroughfare and butting up against the thick retaining wall was an assortment of timber post-and-beam houses, still so new they did not sag. Tradesmens’ huts and merchants’ stalls interspersed the residences. The soldiers’ barracks comprised the largest building. It was flanked by a prosperous smithy on one side and the stables on the other.
    Outside the ten-foot-thick circular wall, rye and millet prospered in the bailey, even though herds of fat sheep and cattle grazed there. Close by, the elephant, Longfellow, with Drummond’s crusty companion on his back, stood amid a crowd of curious town dwellers and farmers. Farther out still, another wall, thicker than the first and crenelated for defense, circled the whole of the estate.
    Impressed, Drummond looked down at his wife and again wondered how she had accomplished so much, for the keep was as fine as any in the Borders and far richer than he had expected. The Clare he remembered couldn’t cipher or plan well enough to manage even the smallest of households. This defensible and flourishing community stood as further testimony that she had changed or had received the guidance of an expert.
    Clare, his faithless wife and the mother of his son.
    A weight seemed to press in on Drummond at the thought of the lad, his only surviving son. He found himself softening toward the woman beside him.
    She had always been lovely, her skin smooth and unblemished, and given to maidenly blushes, her hair thick and shimmering like precious gold. Yet now, her lovely brown eyes surveyed him with caution, and even had she tried, she could not conceal the intelligence there. When and from whom had she acquired it?
    His gaze dropped to her lips, and he thought them fuller than he remembered and more prone to an appealing smile than a missish pout. She seemed dignified, self-assured, and passionate. That aspect of her brought a halt to his admiration. She had lain with the man who was now the ruler of the land. What if Edward II intended to keep her for his mistress?
    She shifted the basket from one arm to the other. “Must you stare? You make me feel like a sow at market.”
    Drummond couldn’t help but laugh. “Any man