The Striker Read Online Free PDF Page A

couldn’t; it was true. His father was doing everything he could to secure a betrothal between him and Lady Barbara Keith.
    â€œYou’re a lucky bastard, Eoin. I’d give my left bollock to have the Marischal of Scotland’s daughter as my wife. With your skills and a marital connection to Scotland’s top military commander, you’ll be in a fantastic position if the war resumes.”
    When the war resumes, Eoin thought. For despite Edward of England’s intentions, rather than end the Scottish “rebellion” with the brutal killing of William Wallace a few weeks ago, all he’d done was incite it.
    That’s why they were here. The great lords and magnates of Scotland had gathered at Stirling to “come together” to see what could be done to respond to this latest act by Edward.
    But the likelihood of Bruce and Comyn (who represented his exiled uncle King John Balliol) coming together to agree about anything for any length of time was about as likely as the Mamluk sultan and the pope agreeing to share Jerusalem. Eoin knew the gathering was more about the two temporary allies gathering support and taking stock of potential allies when the next grab for power came. And it would come, there was no doubt about that. Hatred ran too deep between the two branches of the descendants of Prince Fergus to ever be reconciled.
    The MacLeans were in a difficult position. Although Eoin’s father had every intention of fighting alongside their kinsman Bruce, he was also trying to avoid more problems from the MacDougalls—the Lord of Argyll was technically their overlord for their lands in Lorn—who were firmly aligned with the Comyns, by appearing undecided.
    â€œLady Barbara is a lovely lady,” he said. “Any man would be fortunate to have her as a wife.”
    The words came out as rote and unthinking as they were. But they were also true. Barbara Keith was pretty, well mannered, demure, and modest. A real lady, and everything he admired in a woman—just like his mother. Were it not for Rignach, daughter of the former Lord of Carrick, his father would never have become one of the most important and respected Highland chiefs. His father liked to jest that without her they’d be just as wild and uncivilized as those backward barbarian MacDowells, who were probably still living with their animals in long houses and worshipping pagan gods.
    Having had the misfortune of crossing paths with Dugald MacDowell once, Eoin didn’t doubt it. He could give the Vikings a lesson in ruthlessness and barbarity.
    â€œAye, I’m sure she’ll make you a perfect wife,” Fin said dryly.
    Eoin’s gaze sharpened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    Fin shrugged. “You don’t want to be bothered, and she won’t bother you. But you better wear a warm mantle when you bed her.”
    He shot him a look of warning. Eoin was used to his friend’s talk about the women he bedded—or wanted to bed. Though distasteful, he usually ignored it. But speculating about the woman who might be Eoin’s future wife was another matter.
    Even if he was probably right. Lady Barbara was a bit . . . frosty.
    Fin put his hand up. “Don’t get all prickly. I don’t mean anything by it. One can’t have everything, I suppose. That’s why so many men have lemans. A wife for money, position, alliances, and heirs, and a pretty mistress to fuck and suck your cock. Too bad the two never seem to go together.”
    Eoin winced. “Christ, Fin, do you have to talk like that?”
    Fin just laughed and shook his head. “You are more of a prude than a nun in a harem, Eoin. If you ever relaxed long enough to sit around the fire at camp with us, rather than hunch over an oil lamp with those maps of yours, you’d know that is how most men talk.”
    He was focused, damn it, not prudish. “I’ll relax when the war is