Wild Hearts Read Online Free PDF Page B

with the bloody Gordons. "Damascus, who brought the invitation? Why didn't you bring him up for refreshments?" questioned Paris.
    "It was Jean's brother, young Scotty McDonald.
    Troy was pouring him some of your contraband brandy down in the barracks when I left."
    "Good God, the men will polish off the whole lot. You know they lave hollow legs with sponges in their boots! Half that brandy is promised in Edinburgh at five hundred percent profit!"
     
    The ball was an excuse to announce the betrothal of Jean McDonald, so it turned out. They had been friends with the McDonalds since childhood. When the Cockburn sisters learned of the approaching nuptials, they were green with envy. They liked to be first in everything, and a childhood friend snaring a husband before one of them was not something they had expected.
    Paris was annoyed that after he'd taken the trouble to escort his sisters to the damned ball in the first place, they sniped at him every time they passed him. He talked Douglas, the eldest McDonald brother, into escaping with him to famous Ainslee's Tavern on High Street. They went straight through to the private dining room in the rear, where Scotland's young nobility idled away its leisure hours. Cockburn wasn't at all surprised to see both Lord Lennox and Lord Logan with a great many of his other friends.
    "Rogue, over here, Your Lordship," shouted Logan, and made room for him at the table.
    Paris grinned "We escaped from an engagement party."
    "Ah, weddings are in the air this season," said Lord Lennox. "Is this the lucky bridegroom?"
    "No," said Douglas McDonald, "my sister, Marrying a Stewart."
    "I'm a Stewart!" exclaimed Lennox. "Cousin to the King and Bothwell. We will be related, then." He smiled.
    "Christ, we're all related— all descended from kings Although God knows that's no recommendation. I usually try to keep it quiet." Paris laughed.
    David Lennox was extremely tall and fair and looked every inch the-gentleman when compared with his friend Logan, whose looks and manners were more rugged and earthy. At the moment Logie had obviously made-enough inroads on a bottle of whisky to make him philosophize. "Did you ever notice how one wedding will start a chain reaction? Sort of spreads like a disease?"
    "Bloody fools," remarked Paris. "No woman is worth giving up your freedom for."
    "Oh, I don't know, Rogue. Take your sister Damascus— a more tempting morsel I never set eyes on," claimed David Lennox.
    "Is she the one with the beautiful big breasts?" Logan laughed.
    "No, that's my sister Shannon; you coarse lout. I'll thank you to keep your bloody mind off my sister's breasts," growled Paris, only half joking.
    "I'll bet she's rewarding in bed," Logan said. dreamily.
    The smile disappeared from Paris's face. "We don't discuss my sisters in a tavern, their merits in bed, or otherwise."
    Douglas McDonald asked quickly, "Have you seen anything of Mary Fleming lately?"
    Paris drawled, "All there is to see!" his good humor returning.
    "Speaking of weddings, have you heard old moneybags Abrahams, the goldsmith with that mansion on Princes Street, is to wed a week Saturday?" asked Lennox.
    "Maxwell Abrahams, the usurer?" asked Paris. "You must be mistaken— he's an old queer."
    "Used to buy the King's favorite boys when he was finished with them, didn't he?" Logan laughed.
    "Word of honor. The wedding's in the chapel at Holyrood Palace next Saturday. I have my invitation to the reception afterward," said Lennox, laughing. "The old bastard's had so much of my gold for mortgages that I might as well get a free feed off him."
    "I've never done business with him. Never had to, thank. God. Why is the old faggot marrying?" asked Paris, not really interested.
    "Ah, therein lies a tale." Lennox leered. "It seems there is a new cure being touted for the French pox— a virgin!"
    "A virgin?" asked McDonald curiously.
    "Guaranteed cure. They say virgin's blood will clear up the syphilis in a month. And the old swine's