DARE THE WILD WIND Read Online Free PDF

into her from its foot.  In spite of all her resolve, she halted on the steps.
    Below his hawkish nose, his strongly molded mouth twitched first with shock and then icy, implacable anger. 
    Tonight he was elegantly dressed in a wide cuffed habit a la francaise and matching silk breeches that bore none of the stains of travel, a fine lace jabot spilling below a black ribboned cravat at his throat.  His stockings were silk and clocked in gold, and his shoes were exquisitely made, the red worn only by ranking nobles at court. 
    It was the man she had confronted at the abbey.  And, with a sinking inside her, Brenna knew past all doubt he was not a part of the royal emissary's escort, but the Earl of Stratford.
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 4
     
    "My lord, allow me to present my sister, Lady Brenna."
    Malcolm's voice rang oddly in Brenna's ears, faraway though he stood just below her at the foot of the staircas e, in the company of four richly dressed Englishmen in powdered wigs.  But the severe ramillie wig the tallest man wore did little to alter his appearance, and surprise hadn't shaken his arrogant stance.
    "Brenna, the Earl of Stratford, Drake Seton."
    Dread knotting her stomach, she managed to descend the last steps to the great hall and drop a reluctant curtsy to the Earl.  He took her extended hand and grazed it with his lips.
    "What remarkable hair," he said, a dangerous glitter in his gold flecked eyes.  "I'm astonished to find it so commonplace in this wild country." 
    Did he mean to toy with her?  Brenna knew she could ill afford to provoke him, but she wouldn't show fear.
    "Alas, my lord, we're rustics here.  We're far from court, and we've never taken to powdering our hair."
    She saw the other men in the Earl's party exchange glances.  The corners of Drake Seton's mouth twitched at her discomfort.
    " Scotland is a bewitching place."  His eyes traveled down the curve of her throat to the nearly  bare thrust of her breasts.  "The beauty of its women beggars praise.  Even a simple country maid can cast a spell, though none quite the match of yours."
    Brenna heard a c ough behind him and an uneasily cleared throat.  None of his companions would risk interrupting his game.  He meant to torment her, to draw out his revenge.  But she wouldn't give him the pleasure of stammering and quaking before him. 
    "Our clan shares the same blood, my lord."  She met his gaze defiantly.  "And many a lass in the Highlands could catch an Englishman's eye."
    She saw his flicker of reaction.  Their encounter below the abbey was proof of the perils any unprotected woman faced at the hands of English soldiers. 
    "Not quite in the fashion this one did," he said in a low voice.
    "Then I envy the mark she made on your memory," Brenna responded with tart irony.
    His eyes met hers.  "I haven't done with her yet."
    For a second, he allowed his words to regi ster.  Then, to Brenna's surprise, he turned back to her brother. 
    "I suggest you finish your introductions, Lord Dalmoral.  My companions will take it ill if you neglect to present them to your sister."
    Malcolm jumped to oblige.  One by one the English nobles stepped forward to bend over her hand.  Though Brenna murmured them in turn, their names were a tangle.  Her fear of the Earl eclipsed her worry about Malcolm.  Drake Seton was far more dangerous.  He could believe she had acted as a lure in a n ambush laid for his men. If he did, why had he failed to speak?  Lightheaded and wary, she knew she would have to play out their charade.
    The announcement that dinner was served saved Brenna from the stiff gallantries of the other men.  With icy courtesy, the Earl offered her his arm to escort her.  Brenna would as soon have put out her hand to touch a snake.  With distaste, she laid her slender fingers lightly on Drake Seton's wrist.
    Immediately, his sinewy hand tensed, and she all but felt his anger.  So close to him, Brenna was uncomfortably conscious how