His Woman Read Online Free

squealed as they shot past, stirring dust motes. In the far corner near a poorly crafted bowl lay a pile of old rags. He scrunched his nose. The stench within rivaled that which clung to his garments.
    “At least it is empty.” With a grimace, Duncan squeezed through the hand-chiseled opening.
    Men’s voices echoed outside the door.
    “Blast it.” He hauled the bag up and dropped it to his side. Turning toward the door, he withdrew his sword.
    Seconds passed.
    Nearby, water dripped from a crack in the ceiling. Wind from the loch tunneled up the opening with an unsettling moan. Thankfully, the voices faded.
    Relaxing, he secured his sword, tore off the protective cloth from his nose and garb and used both to wipe away any evidence from his climb.
    Disgusted when he did no more than spread the brownish stains, he threw the soiled linen on top of the corner pile where it blended in. If his clothes reeked of dung, so be it. Without water to aid his efforts, he’d done all he could.
    He tugged the priest’s robe from the sack and shook his head at himself. “It is a sad day, lad, when you dress as a man of God for your enemy’s mistress.” But he’d made his promise—a promise he would keep before washing his hands of Isabel and her smoldering eyes and lying tongue once and for all.
    He donned the garb, drew up the hood to cover his head, and headed down the corridor. At the entry to the stairs, voices echoed from below.
    Duncan hurried down the spiral steps. As he moved into the shadows untouched by torchlight, two knights rounded the corner.
    Nerves slammed home and Duncan slipped his hand inside his robe, clasping his hidden dagger as a precaution.
    “Father,” they greeted in unison.
    He nodded. With his free hand, he made the sign of the cross. The knights moved aside in deference, and Duncan walked past, his grip easing on his dagger. He’d descended but a few steps when one of the knights called back.
    “Father?”
    Duncan halted, his senses on alert. Slowly, he turned to face them. “My son?”
    One knight murmured something to the other, who then continued up the stairs. Once the other man had disappeared from view, the knight walked down and paused a foot away.
    Relief edged through Duncan. If trouble started, at least the odds were even.
    “It is about a lass,” the knight said.
    Duncan nodded, his grip upon his dagger firm. “We can speak of this in the chapel on the morrow if it serves you best.” And by morning, he would be several leagues away with Isabel in tow.
    The knight cleared his throat. “If you have time, Father, I would like to speak with you now. It will take but a trice.”
    “Of course.” As if he had a choice. Trussed up as a man of God, it might raise suspicion if he turned the knight away.
    A gust down the turret sent torchlight into a wild dance, exposing the man’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I have bedded two sisters and…they have each found out about the other.” Guilt clung to his voice. “I am not sure what I should do? Or how to explain?”
    Duncan almost laughed. Only a fool would bed sisters individually. Unless he was glib of tongue. Then he would bed them both at the same time.
    “Father?”
    He cleared his throat. “It is a serious sin you have committed. One not to be taken lightly.”
    The knight bowed his head with chagrin. “Aye. And that is why I have come. For my penance.”
    “You will be saying ten Our Father’s and sweeping the chapel floors for the next fortnight,” Duncan commanded. “The prayers will cleanse your soul of the sin and your labor will rid the church of the aged rushes.”
    “Thank you, Father.”
    Duncan made the sign of the cross. “Go then.”
    With a humble nod, the knight started to turn away, then paused. He sniffed. “Do you smell something foul?”
    “Foul?” Duncan cursed silently, aware the hideous odor could only be a result of his climb from Hades. “Aye, it would be my cloak. One of the blasted dogs