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

his edge? His inability to subtly manipulate Osborn into a pliant charge was unsettling.
    Mayhap he’d been spending too much time in the company of taciturn warriors. For most of the last nine years that he’d been in the Bruce’s service, he’d worked in the King’s inner circle, usually in small teams with men who would rather exchange sword blows than pleasantries.
    Colin had always been a bit different from the others, though. Aye, he was as skilled as any of the Bruce’s other elite warriors—he’d proven it enough on the practice field as well as in battle. But while Finn Sutherland would probably rather have a tooth pulled than prattle on with the likes of Osborn, Colin had always had a knack with people.
    With a joke or a pound on the back, he made men feel welcome, relaxed. And with a smile or a wink, women turned soft and supple, as the innkeeper’s wife had.
    Aye, he’d been told by many a lass over the years that he was a handsome devil, but it was more than that. It was listening with an easy smile, all the while sharply observing the person across from him for clues on how to act, how to steer them toward what he wanted.
    He’d always had such a skill. Or rather, he’d always found that reading people came easily to him. He didn’t use to think of it as a skill—more like a natural way with people. But ever since Joan’s betrayal, he saw it for what it truly was—a tool to be used in the service of the Scottish cause. Or a weapon.
    He quickly shoved away the dark memories. Now was not the time to think on the events of eight years past. He still had a mission to complete, even if half of that mission was to play nanny goat to Osborn.
    As the innkeeper’s wife arrived with a second bowl of stew and a mug of ale for Osborn, the icy look still in her eyes as she served him, a muffled sound drew Colin’s attention once more to the stairs.
    The sound grew more distinct as someone began descending the steps—sniffles interspersed with little sobs.
    A woman’s green-dyed skirts emerged from the shadowy stairwell. The material swayed around slim hips as she continued down the stairs. Hips gave way to a narrow waist, and then a snugly laced bodice. The curve of petite but shapely breasts rose above the bodice’s scooped neck. A thin metal chain was clasped around a delicate neck, disappearing between those pert breasts.
    With another step, the woman’s head came into view. Unbound dark brown hair framed a pale face. She held a kerchief to her nose, obscuring the lower half of her face, but wide hazel eyes took in the common room. Those tear-brimmed eyes darted to each of the tables, finally landing on the counter where Colin and Osborn sat.
    Heat, slow and familiar, settled low in Colin’s belly. The lass was undeniably attractive, if a bit thin. Still, her delicately feminine curves and wide, innocent eyes could entice many a man.
    The woman muffled another little sniffle behind the kerchief. She dipped her head so that her eyes landed on the floor, her dark hair sliding down around her face like a veil.
    Colin realized that the room had fallen still at her arrival. A quick glance told him that he hadn’t been the only one to notice the lass’s bonny features.
    A woman in an inn wasn’t so unusual that all the other patrons should be staring quite so slack-jawed at her, however. Colin reminded himself that the men around him were simple farmers and merchants unused to a pretty young lass’s company.
    He’d have to make a point of leaving her alone. Even from the brief contact their eyes had made, he sensed that she was not one for a quick and easy dalliance. A lass in tears almost always meant more trouble than she was worth.
    Besides, he had better things to do than indulge in a wee bit of distraction. Though he knew that Osborn was incapable of deceit, the messenger still might be targeted by one of King Edward or Lancaster’s lackeys.
    As he turned back to his ale and stew, a flicker of