Claire Delacroix Read Online Free

to give any credence to a whisper in the back of his mind. “I am what I am. The woman might as well see as much.”
    Burke smiled wryly. “And may the best man win her hand?”
    “And may
you
win her hand,” Luc corrected, seeing no risk in letting his true feelings show. “And quickly, if you please. Llanvelyn awaits my return.”
    Burke frowned. “I understood there was a steward there.”
    “Pyrs died two years past.” Luc’s words were curt, the only sign of how deeply the old man’s passing had affected him.
    Burke watched him for a long moment, but Luc frowned and looked again for his father.
    “And you have no regrets in the choice you once made,” Burke finally commented, his idle tone not disguising his interest.
    “I?” Luc shook his head and his words were emphatic. “Nary a one.”
    A gleam of appreciation lit Burke’s eye. “Who would have imagined such a simple life would suit you?”
    “It suited my mother and her family well enough.”
    “Hmmm. So, here you stand, garbed like a farmer amidst wealth and privilege, untroubled by the disparity.” There was a note of mild wonder in Burke’s tone. “You are a nobler man than I, Luc Fitzgavin.”
    Luc smiled. “I doubt that.”
    Burke’s gaze was steady as he smiled slightly himself.“The most astonishing thing is that you begrudge me naught.”
    Luc shrugged easily, never having seen any reason to be jealous of his brother’s many accomplishments. “We are different men, Burke, born of different women, raised in different ways. ’Tis only good sense that our lives should differ as well.”
    “Once they did not,” Burke noted softly. Luc stiffened at the reminder and looked away, but Burke would not leave it be. “You could have won all I call my own by now, or perhaps more, if you had not given up your blade.” A lump rose in Luc’s throat but he kept his expression grim. “Luc, you have to know that your talent was rare,” Burke added.
    “Perhaps.” Luc cleared his throat. “But ’twas not a life that suited me as well as it evidently does you.”
    “Is that the truth?” Burke glanced away, dissatisfaction in the line of his lips. ’Twas not an expression Luc had seen upon Burke’s visage before, but a fanfare of trumpets sounded before he could ask after it.
    The assembly turned as one to face the dais. Tullymullagh’s elderly steward appeared at Luc’s elbow, tsking under his breath. “Quickly, quickly! Over here, both of you. Now, where is the third? There must be a third!”
    The steward clucked his tongue, anxiously eyeing the assembly. The crowd fell back behind the two brothers, just as that sought-after third man joined the pair, his russet hair gleaming.
    Rowan. Luc flicked a curious glance to his youngest brother, as tall and handsome as ever. Luc was surprised to see that Rowan’s usual cavalier smile was lacking.
    ’Twas clear that Rowan was here against his own desire, as well. Luc’s lips thinned at the reminder, and he folded his arms across his chest at the inconvenience wreaked upon them all.
    “There!” the steward crowed. “Now, come along, come along, we must not keep Princess Brianna waiting on this day of days.”
    She
could not wait, but they had been compelled to travel long and far to serve her will. The spoiled princess of Tullymullagh had indeed made all dance to her willful tune.
    Luc imagined a sullen and demanding woman, pointing petulantly to all she desired and winning it each time. She was likely ancient and unable to make a fitting match in any way other than this frivolous game. Or pretty but with the wits of a stone, insistent that all made her the center of attention.
    The center of attention she would evidently be on this day, at least. Luc folded his arms across his chest and impatiently waited out the moments until he could consult with his sire.
    The minstrels plucked a tune and every head lifted in anticipation. A bevy of maidens burst into the hall, spilling flowers to