LORD OF DUNKEATHE Read Online Free Page A

and servants' chambers.
    Beside that was another long building, which she guessed was the hall.
    In addition to the kitchen, there were stables and other buildings that were probably storehouses of some sort, and an armoury . She suspected there were more buildings that she couldn't see to accommodate the garrison.
    Maybe Sir Nicholas was looking out of one of the windows in the second floor of the apartments, watching them, smugly pleased to see all the people who'd come, and exulting in their urge to have one of their family meet his approval.
    Maybe he was in his solar, trying to figure out how he was going to pay for the food necessary to feed this multitude, and where they were going to stay. Imagining a brawny, not overly intelligent ex-soldier worriedly scratching his head and puzzling over food was amusing, but not very likely. Sir Nicholas was obviously rich, as this castle attested, so he would surely not be concerned with such mundane matters.
    Perhaps he'd gone out hunting, getting away from the hustle and bustle until all was settled . Then he could return in a flurry of hoofbeats, weapons, hawks and a swirling cloak, like a great hero coming home.
    Well, there'd be at least one person in Castle Dunkeathe who wouldn't react with awe and delight, she thought, even if she did have to admit to a certain curiosity to see the man who could create all this fuss and bother over a potential marriage. Maybe he was quite a prize, given the number of people here.
    She wondered which lady might win him. That one, just disembarking from her blue wagon? If she proved to be younger than she was, she'd be surprised. The brown-haired one walking into the hall? She, too, was finely attired, but she certainly couldn't be called graceful. And Riona could hear her giggling all the way across the yard.
    Perhaps that very young, very pretty, dark-haired young woman wearing a lovely blue velvet cloak trimmed with red fox fur seated on a palfrey. Although she was as expensively attired as any and mounted on a very fine horse, she looked lost and lonely and more
    than a little frightened. She also didn't look much more than sixteen.
    The poor thing probably didn't want to be here, either. Feeling sympathetic, Riona gave the girl a friendly smile when she looked Riona's way.
    The girl's eyes widened with surprise. Still smiling, Riona shrugged her shoulders, as if to say, "I don't know what I'm doing here, either."
    The girl returned her smile, until the young man in yellow damask approached her and commanded her attention. He helped her dismount and then they went into the hall.
    When they were gone, Riona idly surveyed the wagons and people left in the yard. She noticed a man she hadn't seen before leaning against the stable wall, watching the activity in the courtyard, just as she was.
    He couldn't be a nobleman, for he wore only a leather jerkin without a shirt beneath, exposing his broad chest and arms. The rest of his clothing was likewise simple and nondescript—brown woollen breeches, a wide belt with bronze buckle, scuffed leather boots. It was obvious from the way his breeches clung to his thighs that more than his arms were muscular, and his lean, dark features proclaimed him a mature man in his most powerful prime.
    He must be a soldier off duty waiting for an order, or the person issuing them. He might even be a Scot, for although he wore the
    dress of men from the south, his dark brown hair hung to his shoulders—a far cry from the style favoured by the Normans.
    In his watchful stillness, he reminded her of a cat. She'd known a feline to sit outside a mouse hole, unmoving, unflinching, for an entire morning waiting for the mouse to show itself. She didn't doubt this man could wait with the same sort of patience for his prey. Sir Nicholas must pay his soldiers well, for surely a warrior of that sort didn't come cheaply.
    One of the maidservants, a pretty woman with a mole on her breast, hurried past. The man glanced her way,