Seducing the Laird Read Online Free PDF Page B

in her warmth. That heated response for his enemy, an English woman, made Cairn wary.
    After a moment she turned away. She fell asleep soon after, curled into a ball with one hand tucked into her stomach and the other hidden beneath her head. Cairn’s stayed awake long into the night, thinking of home and the raven-haired enigma who saved him.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 8
    Verena awoke to the sounds of battle. She heard a loud crash as bodies slammed into each other and the clang of steel meeting steel. Owen was stationed outside protecting her from harm. Was he now fighting for her? Had someone found their hiding place?
    Before she was fully conscious her hand went to the knife hidden beneath her pillow and she leapt to her feet.
    "S’wounds!" Came an astonished cry.
    Verena turned to the noise instinctively to gauge the threat. She blinked rapidly to clear her hazy mind. The sounds of battle were still there, but she was suddenly aware that she had made a colossal mistake.
    "’Tis only a storm," said a bemused Cairn. "We are safe."
    Mortified, she realized the explosions outside were not the ring of metal and gallop of horse’s hooves. Instead they were the cacophony of thunder and lightning of an early winter storm.
    Glancing down at herself in mortification, she discovered the light from the dying fire clearly illuminated her shape through her worn chemise. She quickly dropped to her pallet, covering herself with a blanket.
    "Thank you," she said shyly. She was not usually so modest—courtesy of growing up with Owen and Hadran, but that upbringing didn’t prepare her for the warmth of Cairn’s gaze burning through her underwear. When Cairn looked at her like that Verena felt as if she wore nothing at all. She decided she must still be disoriented from waking so suddenly.
    "Who is Owen?" Cairn asked, breaking into her thoughts.
    She wanted to kick herself. All of her preparation for this assignment, and perhaps her life, would be for naught if she accidentally said the wrong name in her sleep.
    "Did I call his name?"
    "Aye, before you woke up. Who is he?"
    "Owen is my brother, but I have not seen him in many years."
    "You didn’t mention other relatives."
    Verena shrugged, using the motion to more fully cover herself with the blanket. A lie was quickly forming in her mind.
    "’Twas not important," she replied. "He is much older and was sent to another of Gundy’s holdings as a soldier. I don’t know why I dreamt of him."
    Cairn nodded, but Verena wasn’t sure her answer satisfied him.
    "Where did you get the knife?"
    "Owen gave it to me years ago."
    That was the truth. Owen made several daggers identical to the one he always carried. It was a simple tool, designed for cutting meat or bread. It was also the key to carrying secret messages between Hadran’s agents. The handle of each knife was exactly the same width which meant innocuous scraps of parchment, fabric, or animal hides could be wrapped around them revealing vertical patterns of letters written on the material. It was one of many ways the spies communicated and guaranteed that only someone with possession of their knives and the knowledge to use them could read the notes.
    "Did he also teach you how to use it?"
    "Aye, before he left," she replied, looking him in the eye. There was nothing suspicious about an older brother teaching his younger, pretty sister how to use a knife, particularly if she worked in Lord Gundy’s castle. But were her motions too precise, too practiced or smooth?
    "I would like to dress," she announced to halt his probing questions. "Could you please turn around?"
    Cairn did so, albeit hesitantly. She could sense many more questions forming in his mind. Yesterday he seemed content to accept her aid, but as his recovery progressed Cairn became more inquisitive.
    "How do you feel?"
    "Much better. I should be able to leave soon."
    Much sooner than was wise if Lord Gundy had his way. Verena couldn’t forget she was on a schedule.