Susan King - [Celtic Nights 01] Read Online Free PDF

strong-boned, angled at the jaw.
    Calm control emanated from him in appearance and demeanor.
    She pulled her gaze from his and looked at the king. "Please, sire, about the issue of my marriage—"
    "My lady, you have made your plea," the king replied.
    "Sire, my clan's enemy, Cormac MacNechtan, means to petition you for my hand. He wants only to possess Kinlochan and subdue our clan by marrying me, their chief."
    "It is true, sire," Giric offered. "This feud is based on old anger, inherited through generations."
    William frowned. "Marriage between enemies can solve such a dispute."
    "I cannot marry Cormac!" Alainna burst out. "I beg you to understand. We need warriors to fight on our behalf."
    "You need a man who can raise a castle on that site, install a host of men, and bring peace and protection to that region of the Highlands."
    She sighed in relief. "A Highland warrior."
    "A Norman knight," he corrected. "One will be chosen from among the worthy men in my court. Farewell, my lady."
    Alarm rocked through her and nearly buckled her knees. "Sire—"
    The Norman knight took her arm. "Quiet, lady," he murmured. "If you want your way in this, submit a petition. He is done with you now."
    She jerked out of his grip. "I cannot write," she snapped. "But I can speak, here and now."
    "At the peril of your cause."
    She scowled at him, but kept silent.
    "A handsome couple," the king said. "Indeed. Sebastien, as I recall, you are a widower.... How long have you been in my service?"
    Alainna glanced at the king, stunned by the implication.
    The knight paused. "Nearly three years, sire."
    "And not yet granted a suitable reward."
    Heart pounding, Alainna glanced wildly from one man to the other.
    The knight nodded. "The privilege of serving as honor guard to the Scottish king has all my devotion, sire." His answer was smooth and courteous, but his fingers tensed like steel on Alainna's arm.
    She glanced at Giric then, who was frowning and silent.
    "Surely something can be done," the king said. "Lady, it is quite possible that Sir Sebastien le Bret is the very warrior you need." He smiled.
    "Sire—" Alainna protested.
    "I am not the champion for this lady," the knight said.
    "Modest, sir, for a paragon among knights, renowned as a fighter of strength and spirit," the king said. "Exactly what Lady Alainna has requested. And you speak some Gaelic." He continued to smile. "That should please the lady."
    "It may not, sire," Sebastien murmured. Alainna felt the tension grow thick in the air.
    "But your presence at Kinlochan, with a garrison of men, would please me greatly," the king said.
    Alainna gasped. "My clan could not accept Norman knights at Kinlochan, sire."
    The king looked at her. The resoluteness in his eyes made her hesitate. She knew that King William was not a cruel ruler, but he could be swift and decisive. To refuse was treasonous.
    "We shall speak later, Sebastien. Lady Alainna." The king motioned for the chamberlain to call the next petitioner.
    Sir Sebastien circled his strong grip around her arm and guided her away. She twisted to look back. "Sire—" she began.
    "Be silent," Sebastien hissed.
    "He means to give you my lands!"
    "He can give me only what I accept," he said sharply. "Come this way. Sir," he said to Giric, "I will send a page to fetch your horses."
    "The horses are in a stable in the town," Giric said. "I will fetch them myself. Alainna?"
    "I... I will wait in the abbey," she told her foster brother in Gaelic. "I want to see the stonework before we leave. Giric, I cannot wed a Norman," she added frantically.
    "Be calm. Go now, and I will meet you at the abbey."
    "Allow me to escort you to the abbey, my lady," the knight said. "The stonework is very beautiful. Come this way." His Gaelic was cool and polite.
    He guided them through the crowd. Alainna lifted her head proudly, but her heart beat a pattern of panic.
    * * *
    Moments later, panic gave way to anger. It fueled her tread, tightened her mouth, clouded