The Black Knave Read Online Free PDF Page B

Rory’s long absences. And Mary Ferguson was already considered a loose woman. Rory’s brother had made quite sure of that.
    Rory’s fury rose whenever he thought of the day he’d found his brother raping Mary. He’d flung himself on Donald and warned him never again to touch the girl. But it had not been the first time, and Donald had spread the word that Mary had been quite willing. It was enough to ruin the girl, who had been orphaned not long before.
    Rory had threatened to run his brother through if he had the girl evicted, and Donald had believed him. Rory was far the better swordsman of the two, despite his reputation as a rake and wastrel. He’d been fostered with one of the best swordsmen in England, and he’d learned his lessons well. When he’d returned, his brother had been humiliated at his defeat when he’d challenged Rory. Since then, Rory had practiced little in public, preferring the role of a lazy libertine, in part to provoke his father. But Donald had been reminded every time he’d undressed and saw the scar running up his side.
    Donald had covered his anger over Mary’s rescue by telling everyone his brother could do no better then a slut. But Mary had not been bothered again and she’d been allowed to keep the thatched cottage in the woods, where her mother, and her mother before her, had kept herb gardens and mixed medicines and potions. Some believed her a witch and kept away from her.
    But Rory had always liked her and her mother. Mary was not particularly pretty in face, but she had lovely gray eyes and long dark hair and a huge heart. She had a way with beasts as well as plants, and Alister was head over heels in love with her.
    Rory had taken her to tend the first wretched group of Jacobites when one of the children fell ill. She’d quickly committed herself to their cause, to helping the innocent escape the slaughter being committed through the country. As news of the Black Knave spread, more and more whispers came to her ears of fugitives and she, in turn, turned to Alister and Rory.
    They had never expected their one act of compassion to turn into a huge network for escaping Jacobites. Nor that the Black Knave would become the second most wanted man in Scotland. Only Prince Charles himself carried a larger price on his head.
    Now Rory was caught in a net of his own making.
    And a wife would only complicate things. He certainly couldn’t trust her, even if she were a Jacobite. He’d never had much faith in a woman’s ability to keep secrets, with the rare exception of Mary and Elizabeth, both of whom had earned his trust. He could not endanger them now, or others he’d enlisted in his network that shepherded Jacobites to French ships. All their heads would be on the block.
    If only Cumberland could have waited a few more months. …
    But Rory had already used every excuse at his disposal: mourning, disloyalty to the crown by marrying a Jacobite, another woman he loved. All had been swept aside with the wave of a hand. The king wanted this marriage for some bloody reason, and he was going to get it, or know the reason why.
    The best he could hope for was some arrangement with the woman, a marriage in name only. He would make damn sure she wanted nothing else. And with his current fashion, he was sure she would not. He looked like a dissipated peacock.
    “Brandy?” he asked of Alister. Without a word, Alister handed him a flagon, and Rory took several deep droughts, making sure to spill some of it down his waistcoat, and then he wiped his hand across his lips so all of him smelled as if he’d spent the day in a keg.
    Then, out of curiosity he really wished he didn’t have, he asked, “Is she pretty?”
    “She looked illused when I saw her. Bedraggled. Tired. Her hair was straggling in her face. She did not look happy.”
    “Would you be if forced to marry an enemy, one you knew from reputation to be a libertine?” Rory asked softly. “I do not like this charade, but I will