Taming a Wild Scot: A Claimed by the Highlander Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

misplaced,” she said, her tone conciliatory.
    His gaze fell to her hand, then returned to her face. His lips twisted with icy amusement. “Hold fast to your weapon if it eases you, lass, but know that nothing, not even a blade honed to a razor’s edge, will stop me from attaining my goal.”
    Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she left her hand where it was. “Is it not possible for you to gain whatever it is you seek without abiding here with me? I vow to assist you in any way that I can.”
    “No.”
    There was not an ounce of give in the man, and the cruel edge that had infused his voice since the talk of poison made her decidedly uneasy. She was gathering herself for a passionate protest, in spite of her resolve not to raise his ire, when a sharp rap sounded upon her door.
    “Goodhealer Ana! Open the door in the name of the constable of Duthes.”

Chapter 3
    N iall’s hand instinctively reached for his sword—a sword that for once was
not
strapped to his side. Common villeins did not carry weapons of war and, to support their disguises, both he and Aiden had left their long blades back at camp. He shot Ana a look as he stepped forward to open the door. Had he misjudged her fear of the law? Had she somehow signaled her distress as they left the market?
    She shook her head.
    Her face was pale, her eyes dark with concern. She was as surprised by this visit as he was. Sucking in a deep breath and envisioning the various ways he might fight his way to safety with only a simple dirk, he tugged open the door. A tall, bearded man garbed in a belted red tunic stood before him, flanked by a pair of guards with black leather hoods.
    “Constable?”
    The other man frowned. “We are not acquainted, sirrah. Who might you be?”
    Niall met his stare calmly.
Damn.
He’d neglected to learn Ana’s family name. The constable was unlikely to buy into the ruse if he couldn’t recite his own name.
    Ana hugged his arm, pressing her soft body into his side. “Good day to you, Constable Hurley. Allow me to introduce my husband, Robbie Bisset, recently returned from Aberdeen.”
    The constable’s gaze flickered to Ana’s face, then back to Niall’s. “I was unaware that your husband was hale and hearty, Goodhealer. Did you not inform us that he had passed away?”
    She nodded, a pretty pink flush rising in her cheeks. “A tale I’m greatly relieved to say was false. Robbie was badly injured on the docks, but he survived. And now he’s come back to me.”
    “How fortuitous,” the constable said, still studying Niall.
    “Indeed,” she agreed. “Is there a cause for your visit today, Constable?”
    “Aye. The baroness has taken a turn for the worse. She’s asking for you.”
    Ana darted for the table, grabbed up her leather pouch, and gestured to the street. “Let’s away to the manor then.”
    Niall gently but firmly took possession of Ana’s satchel. She wouldn’t stray far from the tools of her trade. Staking his claim with a hand to the small of her back, he addressed Hurley. “I’m certain you have pressing matters of the estate to attend, Constable. Please do not delay on our account. Nothing would please me more than to accompany my dear wife to the manor.”
    Hurley glanced at Ana, then nodded. “As you wish.”
    Cutting the encounter short, Niall guided Ana past the constable. “Good day to you, Mr. Hurley.”
    They left the somewhat bemused constable behind and headed down the gravel lane. A cart pulled by a sleepy-eyed ox stood in front of the bothy next door, and a pair of burly peasants were unloading sacks under the supervision of a plump, bald fellow wearing a wax-splattered apron—the town candle maker, it would seem. Ana waved a greeting to her neighbor as they passed.
    Although the sun had reached the highest point in the sky, the wintery air felt no warmer than it had when Niall had rolled out of his pallet at dawn. Leaving his brat back at Ana’s bothy had been unwise—the cold wind