Heart's Thief (Highland Bodyguards, Book 2) Read Online Free

of ale, some talking quietly.
    The small fire on the other side of the room didn’t exude enough warmth to cut through Colin’s damp tunic or breeches. Thank God he didn’t have to wear heavy chainmail for this mission.
    Still, wearing clothes in the style of the English chafed. He cursed yet again, this time for the fact that he couldn’t wear the MacKay clan colors here in the Lowlands without drawing unwanted attention.
    A stout older woman, no doubt the innkeeper’s wife, bustled by, her graying head down and her face creased with a frown.
    Colin forced a smile to his mouth despite the foul words that clung to the tip of his tongue.
    “Excuse me, madam,” he said.
    The woman grunted as she glanced at him, but then her foot faltered. She came to a sudden halt, her eyes rounding and a silly smile coming to her lips.
    “Oh, ah, forgive me, milord. I didn’t see ye there,” she sputtered, gazing at him.
    Aye, his smile still worked as well as ever.
    “That’s quite all right. I ken ye are busy this eve.” He waved at the half-empty room, pushing sympathy into his eyes. “I only wonder if I may bother ye for a mug of ale and a warm meal. It is another miserable, damp night out.”
    “Oh aye!” the woman said eagerly. “Right away, milord.”
    She hurried around the counter and through a swinging door that led to the attached kitchen. Once she was out of sight, Colin let his smile drop as he surveyed the room.
    The few men who sat in the common room looked as bedraggled as Colin felt. Most had mud on their boots, as he did, and their simple homespun tunics looked damp. One man stood before the fire, warming his hands, while the others nursed their mugs sullenly.
    So, he wasn’t the only one in a foul mood over the weather. But while these men were likely worrying about crops or the increase in wool prices over the last few months, Colin had more reason to be cross than they did.
    This whole bloody mission was already a bust—and only a day and a half in, at that.
    Within hours of meeting Osborn, Colin sensed instinctually that his suspicions about the messenger were unfounded. The man was overly talkative, aye, but entirely guileless. Though Osborn had already demonstrated a fine opinion of himself, Colin didn’t believe for a second that the messenger possessed the skill or wits to knowingly compromise the Bruce’s missives.
    Even with Osborn out of the equation, that still left the possibility that he’d been waylaid on his way to deliver the King’s message without even realizing it. Osborn had claimed that he didn’t remember aught suspicious or untoward happening on his journey to the Highlands to deliver the missive about Carlisle to Colin and Finn, but then again, sometimes a man could be hit over the head so soundly that he couldn’t even recall it.
    That possibility meant that Colin still needed to keep his eyes and ears open—and remain close to Osborn. But so far all he’d seen last night on the road and now tonight in this inn outside Dumfries was a load of wet, grumpy farmers and merchants.
    Worse, in the short time Colin had been in Osborn’s presence, he’d learned that for the first time in his life, he couldn’t get another person to do what he wished using his charm.
    No matter how many times Colin lightly teased, or gently suggested, or hinted, or outright ordered Osborn to cease his incessant chatter, the man simply wouldn’t shut his trap.
    Aye, working as a messenger was certainly lonely work. It meant traveling long stretches alone, with only innkeepers and stable hands to talk with. Still, Colin had never met a man so oblivious to those around him.
    Mayhap it grated so much because Colin prided himself on being able to charm people into doing as he wished—or that his abilities were completely wasted on Osborn.
    He would have been saved a great deal of trouble if he had met Osborn when the man brought the missive to the Highlands requesting Colin and Finn at the Bruce’s