The Black Knave Read Online Free Page B

but a woman. She wanted to fall to the earth and pound her hands against the ground. She wanted to scream. She wanted to protest the injustice of it all.
    But her brothers had lost their lives, and wasn’t that an even greater injustice?
    She tried to keep her face expressionless as they approached the tower house. There were no walls around it, only a number of buildings: a large one that was obviously a stable, and several smaller ones. The grounds were unkempt, and there were no gardens. There was a lifelessness to Braemoor that conflicted with all the activity and warmth at her own castle. Not her own .
    Not any longer.
    God help her, this was now her home. Unless she could persuade the marquis that she would make a truly horrible wife. The sudden thought appealed to her. She knew she did not look well this day. She’d been traveling two days, sleeping out at night in the cold mist with no maid to do her hair. It was braided now for convenience. Since she’d had no mirror, she imagined it was a rather messy braid.
    Her cheeks must be red from the sun and wind, and she knew her clothes were soiled and dirty. Mayhap the marquis would take one look at her and decline even the massive bribe offered him. And if she had a disposition to match …
    Several men in plaids were engaged in swordplay. They turned and looked at her rudely as she rode amidst ten of Cumberland’s army. Their scowls told her that the Forbes clan was probably not any happier about this alliance than she.
    One headed for the massive door of the tower and slipped inside, obviously alerting the residents inside to the new arrivals. There were no soldiers standing guard on parapets, no watch. But then why would there be? The Forbeses had betrayed their heritage, Scotland’s honor. They had nothing to fear from the king. Revulsion rose up in her throat for all those who had chosen the English king to save their own lives and their properties.
    She was to be traded to a man without honor, a clan without principle. The prize for the king: insuring the MacDonells would not rise again against him. Her elderly mare, chosen by the English captain, stumbled, and she realized how tightly she’d clenched her hands on the reins.
    Bethia leaned down and whispered apologies. The mare was as much a pawn as she. Then she straightened as a tall man in plaid appeared at the door and approached them as they came to a halt.
    He was a well-formed man and, she had to admit, a handsome one. His hair was dark brown, his eyes dark, and he wore a Forbes plaid of green and black and purple.
    The captain accompanying her rode up to him. “The Marquis of Braemoor?”
    A pained look crossed the man’s face. “Nay. He is not here. I am Neil Forbes.”
    The captain nodded toward Bethia. “I brought his bride. We sent word ahead….”
    “My cousin had other business.”
    Bethia didn’t miss the contempt in his face, contempt for his own kinsman.
    The captain’s brows furrowed in anger. “But…”
    Neil Forbes looked distressed. “He was told about your expected arrival. He left last night. We have not heard from him since.”
    The captain’s frown deepened. “I was ordered to stay here until the vows were exchanged.”
    Neil Forbes’s gaze went back to Bethia. “You must be weary, milady.”
    She was. She had slept little these past three days, and they’d ridden steadily the past two days. But she would not show these Forbeses any sign of weakness. She said nothing.
    But he approached her and offered her his hand to dismount. Reluctantly she took it, knowing that if she did not, she might well fall. She could not afford to do that. Still, she snatched her hand away the second she reached the ground.
    He merely looked amused and turned to the captain. “A room has been prepared for Lady Bethia and one for you. Your men can stay in the hall.”
    The captain hesitated. “His Grace wants the vows said immediately. He will be here next week.”
    “I am sure my cousin