Amanda Scott - [Border Trilogy 2] Read Online Free Page B

supposed wealth or rank.
    She was not near enough to discern the color of her eyes, but he thought they looked ordinary. Her pale, rather long, narrow face was red with embarrassment, and thanks to her stiff coif and veil, he could not see a single strand of her hair.
    Even so, her personal appearance had little to do with his outrage.
    “You must be mad,” he said to Murray.
    “D’ye mean to say ye’ve already got a wife?”
    “I do not, although my father is negotiating a marriage for me with a cousin of the Earl of Douglas.”
    “From what I hear o’ ye, they’ll no be surprised an ye pick your own wife. And ye’ll like my Meg better nor any Douglas wench,” Murray added confidently.
    The thought flashed through Wat’s mind that his host could be right about the Douglas wench in question. He had known Fiona since they were children and found it impossible to imagine being married to her. But his wishes did not enter into it. Strengthening the alliance between their two families would serve both well.
    Pushing these swift but irrelevant thoughts aside, he said, “I do have a habit of running contrary to plans that others make for me. But that would hardly be cause to let you choose my wife, Murray.”
    “Aye, well, I was hoping ye’d say that, for if ye willna agree to marry the lass, I can hang ye straightaway.”
    “Then do it,” Wat snapped. “I’ll not marry your daughter, whatever you may threaten. No Scott is afraid to die.”
    “Amen, then,” Murray said, signing to the guards before adding, “My Meg, let me tell you, is worthy of a better man. Ye’ve offended her wi’ your ingratitude, and by heaven, ye offend me the more. Take him to the tree, lads.”
    As the guards grabbed him and began to hustle him away, Wat wrenched away from them long enough to turn back and say, “Pray, mistress, forgive me. I swear, I meant no offense to you.”
    To his amazement, she gazed steadily back at him and replied in a calm and surprisingly low-pitched, musical voice, “I took no offense from your rudeness, reiver. I have less desire to marry you than you have to marry me.”
    Her words did more than prick his conscience. They stirred the swift, impulsive response to challenge that had ruled much of his behavior since birth.
    It was a pity, he thought as the guards thrust him roughly from the hall, that he would die before he could teach the wench to appreciate him.

Chapter 2
    “A preciouser villain my tree ne’er adorned; Hang a rogue when he’s young, he’ll steal nane when he’s auld.”
    D etermined to put all thought of the doomed young man from her mind, Meg tried to concentrate on her breakfast. But her contrary imagination presented a vision of some of her father’s men dragging the reiver outside to the horrid tree while others threw a rope over a bough and prepared to hang him.
    She stared unseeing at her trencher, grateful that her mother had sent Rosalie away. But she abandoned her pretended disinterest with relief when Lady Murray said, “I pray you, husband, be patient. Closer acquaintance with yon tree will persuade that young man more certainly than any words will.”
    “Faith, one hopes so,” Amalie muttered. “He is too handsome to let our father hang him.
Say
something, Meg.”
    Placing a warning hand on Amalie’s plump knee and shooting a quick glance at their parents, Meg saw that both were too intent on their own conversation to have heard Amalie or to scold her now. Sir Iagan had returned to his chair before Lady Murray spoke to him, and he sat glowering at her now.
    Experience had taught Meg that despite her father’s bluster, her mother would prevail if she believed her course was right. So she kept her hand on Amalie’s knee, ready to pinch it if her impulsive sister dared to speak again. Amalie had a habit of saying whatever came into her head the minute it occurred to her.
    Sir Iagan picked up his mug as if his only thought were for his ale. Quaffing deeply, he set