The Earl's Enticement (Castle Bride Series) Read Online Free PDF

grown so fast. She had a stack of his barely worn garments in her wardrobe.
    The old keep’s burned-out shell came into sight. She shook her head to wipe the haunting memories from her mind. Only the pressing need to keep Yvette safe could compel Adaira to go into the Craiglocky’s lower levels again.
    Reining in Fionn, she walked him to a grove of alders situated a short distance from the ruins. Peering around the clearing, she frowned. Where was Brayan? Perhaps he’d been delayed.
    What excuse could he have given Marquardt for waylaying him at the cottages anyway? A discussion about the pleasures of trout fishing would no doubt have commenced.
    Brayan and his fishing.
    What would she do without him? He was a kind and faithful friend despite his clumsy, sometimes maddening, attempts to win her affections.
    Adaira dismounted and loosely knotted the horse’s reins to a low-hanging branch. Rubbing Fionn’s nose, she crooned, “I’ll be back.”
    He nudged her pocket. She grinned. “Smell those, do you?”
    It was her love of horses that compelled her to plead with—well actually, it had been more begging and nagging than imploring—Father to learn about horse breeding. He’d objected it wasn’t proper for a well-bred woman to know of such things.
    Claptrap and balderdash, she’d argued. By whose measures?
    Today, she owned over two score of the sturdiest draught horses in Scotland. Her reputation for breeding horseflesh was growing. Fionn was an enormous Flemish stallion at seventeen-three hands. She’d bred him to carefully selected mares at Craiglocky. The mares had been chosen for their larger than average size as well. He’d sired twenty foals. Once Father and Ewan saw the unusual size and strength of the mild-tempered horses, they encouraged her further.
    Adaira smiled. She’d gifted Father with a colt two years ago. Dand, a massive but gentle beast at eighteen hands, was Father’s favorite horse.
    Fionn prodded her with his nose again, as if to say, I’ve been a polite chap long enough. Do hand over my treats .
    She chuckled. “Patience, my friend.”
    Adaira pulled the apple and carrot from her vest pocket and extended both hands, the apple in one, the carrot in the other.
    “Which do you prefer?”
    Fionn wrapped his soft lips around the fruit balanced on her flattened palm.
    “I’m not surprised, greedy beggar. You’ve always had a sweet tooth.” She dropped the carrot to the ground. He rolled his great brown eyes at her as he crunched the juicy apple.
    “I’m already later than I told Brayan I’d be. You’ll have to make do with the carrot yourself,” she admonished.
    Holding the riding crop between her knees, she slid the sack off her shoulder. The dueling pistol, swaddled in a pillowcase, lay beneath the food. After unwrapping the gun, she shoved the pillowslip into the thick bag. Tying the top, she hung the sack on another branch. Fionn or the squirrels were sure to help themselves to the contents if she left the bag on the ground.
    Adaira gripped the gun’s smooth handle, balancing its weight in her hand. She’d never held a gun before. It was awkward and bulky, nothing like the svelte blades she usually wielded. The pistol wasn’t loaded, but Marquardt wouldn’t know that.
    Was he a gambling man? Would he risk challenging her with a gun pointed at his heart?
    With a shrug, she slipped the pistol in the waist of her breeches. Brayan would be there to help convince Marquardt to cooperate. If the lout resisted, she’d use her crop. Holding the whip before her, she removed the plaited leather casing, revealing a rapier sharp blade.
    This, she knew how to use.
    She smiled in smug satisfaction. One way or another, Marquardt would be residing in Craiglochy’s dungeon today. With a quick pat to Fionn’s shoulder, she darted down the path to the crofters’ cottages.
    Adaira emerged from the forest edging one side of the loch. A dozen abandoned huts dotted the landscape. Twigs, pine