The Bride Read Online Free PDF

rest of the climb down.
     
    He could feel his heart slamming inside his chest. Beak reminded himself he had Scottish blood running through his veins, though it came from his ancestors in the civilized Lowlands. He also tried to remember he'd never been caught judging a man solely on his appearance. Neither reminder soothed his initial reaction to the giants watching him so intently.
     
    Beak started shivering. He excused his cowardice by telling himself he was just an ordinary man, he was, and the sight of these two warriors would give the apostles goose-bumps.
     
    The one Beak thought of as the disciple was tall and burly with wide shoulders, hair the color of rusty nails, and green-as-the-ocean eyes. The man had grim wrinkles at the corners of those chilling eyes, too.
     
    The disciple was a big man, aye, yet seemed puny in comparison to the other.
     
    The one Beak thought of as the devil had hair as bronze as his skin. He was a good head taller than his companion and had not a bit of softening fat on his unforgiving Herculean frame. When Beak stumbled forward to get a better look at his face, he immediately wished he hadn't made the effort.
     
    There was a bleak coldness there, lurking in those brown eyes. That gaze could frost a summer bed of clover, Beak thought with growing despair.
     
    So much for his foolish plan to save his Jamie. Beak decided he'd go to hell cheering like a happy man before he let either of these two barbarians near her.
     
    "My name's Beak and I'm stable master here," he finally blurted out, hoping to give the impression there were other stablemen about so they'd think him important enough to converse with. "You're early," he added with a nervous nod. "Else the family would be lined up outside in their finery waiting to give you a proper greeting."
     
    Beak paused for air, then waited for a reply to his remarks. His wait proved to be in vain and his eagerness quickly evaporated. He soon began to feel as important as a flea about to be swatted. It was unnerving, the way the two giants continued to stare down at him.
     
    The stable master decided to try again. "I'll see to your mounts, milords, while you make your presence known to the household."
     
    "We take care of our horses, old man."
     
    It was the disciple who'd made that statement. His voice wasn't particularly pleasant, either. Beak nodded, then backed up several spaces to get out of their way. He watched the lords remove their saddles, listened as each spoke a word of praise in Gaelic to his mount. Their animals were handsome stallions, one brown, the other black, and Beak took notice that neither animal had a flaw… or a strap mark on its hind flanks.
     
    A glimmer of hope was rekindled inside Beak's mind. He'd learned a long time ago that a man's true character could be discovered by the way he treated his mama and his horse. Baron Andrew's mount was riddled with deep lashings and if that wasn't proof enough that his theory was true, Beak didn't know what was.
     
    "Have you left your soldiers waiting outside the walls, then?" Beak asked, speaking in Gaelic so they'd know he was friend, not foe.
     
    The disciple looked pleased with his effort, for he actually smiled at the stable master. "We ride alone."
     
    "All the way from London?" Beak asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.
     
    "Aye," the lord answered.
     
    "With no one seeing to your backsides?"
     
    "We don't need anyone else seeing to our protection," the lord answered. "That's an English inclination, not ours. Isn't that right, Kincaid?"
     
    The devil didn't bother to answer.
     
    "By what names are you called, milords?" Beak asked. It was a bold question he dared to ask, but the warriors weren't scowling at him any longer and that fact had given him courage.
     
    The disciple turned the topic instead of answering. "You speak our language well, Beak. Are you Scottish, then?"
     
    Beak's shoulders straightened with pride. "I am, with red hair afore