My Cursed Highlander

My Cursed Highlander Read Online Free PDF Page B

Book: My Cursed Highlander Read Online Free PDF
Author: Kimberly Killion
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical
Ravenhurst?"

 
     
     
    Chapter 4

     
    Another husband was the last thing Viviana wanted, especially a lusty, barbaric Scotsman with the temper of Zeus, the strength of Hercules, and the lips of Adonis.
    "Pish!" Viviana pulled the rasp over the sculpture she'd been working on for months with every muscle in her body and tried to focus on her predicament and not the way she'd foolishly melted when Laird Kraig kissed her that morning.
    Radolfo had kissed her with the same sort of expertise, but he'd spent plenty of time at the bordello practicing. Dipping his wick in every well ultimately put her first husband in the grave when Radolfo mistook a young maid for one of Madame Bianca's whores. Had the girl not been the Grand Madame's young daughter, Radolfo might have survived the beating.
    Viviana was not so callow to let one kiss turn her into a whimsical maiden ready to fall at Laird Kraig's feet and do his bidding. The Scot hid his temper just like Luciano, and Satan would stand up and bow down to God in Heaven before she would become another man's side of flesh to slap around. Alberto had taught her to defend herself, but Laird Kraig was much bigger than Luciano, much more powerful.
    With quick, angry jerks, she scraped the rasp over the marble and wished she could see anything save for the image of Goliath on the backs of her eyelids. Miocchi growled at her feet, sensing her mood.
    "I. Will. Not. Take. Another. Husband!" she ground out between destructive pulls on the stone until all she could taste was dust. She would have Lorenzo remove Laird Kraig from the palace grounds, and he would be the last Scotsman to ever step foot in Firenze again.
    "Uffa!" She dropped the rasp. Pain burned the tip of her index finger and shot straight up her arm, then a cool trickle curled over her finger.
    Worthless tool! Worthless stone! Worthless eyes.
    Viviana wanted to lash out, to kick something, but it would accomplish naught. She dipped her shaking hand in a bowl of tepid water and bit back unwelcome tears.
    Miocchi whimpered.
    Viviana's whistle filled the chamber. "Fetch me a scrap, Miocchi."
    The dog pranced to the bin of linens as Viviana had trained him to do and returned with an ell of cloth. Viviana held it between her teeth and tore a strip to wrap around her finger.
    She bent and scratched Miocchi's ears to reward him for his loyalty. "I should have let you bite him like you did Luciano."
    The dog licked her hand, soothing her temper, albeit ever so slight.
    A quiet knock brought her upright. "Mistress Viviana?" Angelo asked from outside her closed door, which was unusual as the boy never knocked.
    She took the familiar steps to the door and swung it wide. "What is it?"
    "Messer Lorenzo requests your presence." Angelo's voice was hushed, heavy-hearted. Angelo was never sad. He was full of high-energy day and night.
    "What's amiss, Angelo?"
    "It is Goliath." Angelo took her hand but stared at the stone floor. "He is with Lorenzo in the library."
    * * *
    "Angelo, you will stay with me?" Viviana's hand locked with Angelo's outside Lorenzo's study.
    " Sì, sì. I will never leave your side ever again."
    Viviana painted on a weak smile for it was all she could muster as terrified as she was. "We know that's not true, but just this day I need your eyes."
    Angelo squeezed her hand. "They are yours, mistress."
    She tapped lightly on the wood with the hand wrapped in cloth.
    "Enter." Lorenzo's authoritative tone sounded through the doorway and made her heart jump. He had been good to her since Fioretta died, so why was she so afraid to face him?
    Viviana hid her injured hand in the pocket of her smock, raised her chin, and entered the dimly lit study. Angelo focused on the two men sitting opposite each other in Lorenzo's plush chairs beside the empty hearth, both enjoying a bit of drink as if they were old acquaintances. The loose laces of Laird Kraig's pale undertunic gave him a lewd appearance as did the sleeves he'd rolled to his
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