Sarah Gabriel Read Online Free PDF Page B

poetry and your work on ballads. I particularly favor The Lady of the Lake, since I live not far from Loch Katrine. You make it all seem so very romantical.” She blushed.
    “My dear, I am flattered by the opinion of a true Highland lady.” Scott took her gloved hand in his own. Then James saw Miss MacArthur turn pale and gasp.
    “Oh dear, oh dear,” she said. “The Waverley novels,” she blurted. “They are all yours, Sir Walter—”
    “I do not claim to be the author of those books, miss. Rather, I am a poet—”
    “But sir, they are all yours, and soon the world will know and be glad of it. Your next story will be about…Nigel…and, aye, Quentin,” she said. “It will be some of your best work—oh! I beg your pardon!” She tried to pull her gloved hand away, but Sir Walter held her fingers tightly and leaned toward her.
    “How did you know about the books, and the new manuscripts?” he murmured.
    “Sir, truly, I did not mean to offend.” She looked distressed. James tightened his fingers on her elbow, uncertain what was happening. Beside him, Lady Rankin gasped in horror, and glanced at Charlotte. Lucie Graeme flapped her fan and looked mortified.
    “What is it, over there?” the king boomed, looking toward them.
    “Your Majesty, only a visit among friends,” Sir Walter answered mildly. “My dear,” he then whispered fervently, “you have the Sight, am I correct?”
    “Sir, I—” The girl looked around, flustered.
    “Miss MacArthur, we must go.” James tugged gently on her arm.
    “Farewell, sir,” she told Scott, then let go of James’s arm and took up her skirts to hasten away.
    “James, were I you,” Scott murmured, “I’d pursue that lass. She’s a rare treasure.”
    “Sir,” James said. He would pursue her, to be sure—to find out what the devil she had been going on about. Handing his great-aunt over to William, he turned. The girl had slipped through the press of chattering people and into the corridor beyond, but bobbing white feathers and a jet gloss of hair were easy tofollow. Catching up to her, he snatched her arm and guided her toward an anteroom he saw just off the corridor.
    “Come with me,” he said sternly, marching beside her, his cane tapping as they walked. The smaller room was quieter than the other areas. Tall ferns and potted rhododendrons were arranged around the room with large vases of fragrant roses. The room was thick with that mingled, natural perfume.
    He pulled her behind some rhododendrons and roses, and glared down at her. “What the devil was that all about?” he demanded.
    She stared up at him. “What?”
    Glowering, waiting for her to relent, he realized that he was disappointed. She was so lovely, delectable really, yet not the innocent she seemed, having done such a scheming thing. Her beautiful eyes distracted him, but he would not look away. “Miss MacArthur, Sir Walter keeps his identity as a novelist secret. I do not know your game here, but—”
    “No game. The knowledge of it just came to me. I never meant to offend.”
    “Sir Walter seems convinced that you have the Sight. It is a poor joke to play on a gentleman who has such a beneficial passion for Highland lore.”
    “But I do have the Sight,” she said.
    “It may amuse you to fool others, but I will not tolerate a mockery of my friends.”
    “Sometimes I simply…know things, and then I say them.” She drew a breath and stared up at him, her remarkable eyes flashing. “But you, sir, are rude to accuse and confront me so.”
    Frowning at her, about to answer, he glanced upwhen his party entered the room. “Oh, there you are, James!” Fiona called.
    “I am shocked!” Charlotte said, strolling in with Lady Rankin. “Outraged!”
    Elspeth MacArthur glanced up at James. “I suppose I am ruined now.”
    “Nonsense,” he said. “I have scarcely touched you.” He knew what she meant, but he still wanted to determine the reason for her behavior.
    Charlotte and Lady