Susan King - [Celtic Nights 02] (52 page)

He carried the bucket into the stall and emptied it into a low trough for the horse to drink. "I expected to find you the spoiled lady of a wealthy man, not doing the work of a farmer's wife."

She bristled. "Spoiled? You know me better than that!"

"Do I?" he murmured. His gaze met hers, held it. Then he turned away to remove the horse's saddle.

Her cheeks heated again. "I will go back to the house and prepare you something to eat," she said stiffly. "Tomorrow I will find another place to stay."

He set the saddle down. "Why would you do that?"

"We cannot stay here together, and alone!"

"I will not toss you out. It is your house now. My mother left it to you. She thought—I was gone." He began to brush the horse's back. "I will sleep in the smithy, as it was once mine, and no one is using it now."

"Will you take up blacksmithing again? And sword making? We could use both here."

"I do not think I will stay long."

Disappointment plummeted through her. Wanting to know more of his plans, she waited, but he only tended to the horse. She studied his armor, the good leather harnesses for the horse, the carved and padded wooden saddle, the scabbarded sword and other weapons.

"That is fine gear for a Highlander," she said. "My cousins said you did well in France. They said you rode with the Maid, the one who tried to save her country. We heard of her even here," she added. "Such a one!"

"I was one of her guards. There were several of us assigned by the French king to watch her back."

"You knew her!"

"So I did."

"And were you granted rewards for your deeds there?"

He said nothing, bending to lift one of the horse's back feet to examine the hoof. His hands were knowing, his voice quiet as he murmured to the animal. Eva watched, her thoughts tumbling, but one question burned within her.

"Do you have a wife?" Her heart thumped hard.

"I do not." He did not look up.

His terseness frustrated her. "Why do you come back here so sudden and covert, armed like a king's man?"

He straightened. "You were ever a curious girl, with a nimble tongue for talking. I see that has not changed much."

"Not much," she said testily. "And you were ever given to secrets. I see that has not changed either."

"No secrets worth telling. I simply came home."

"I suspect you intend to do more than smithing here." She folded her arms. "I know you."

"Used to," he said. "I have a letter for Simon," he admitted as he settled a blanket over the horse's back. "From the king."

"If you are here to arrest him, you will not find my brother easily."

"I am a messenger. Just that." He glanced up. "Eva, it is late. Tomorrow I will look for your brother. For now, all I want is a bed. And just for tonight, I would like to sleep in the house."

Her heart bounded, but she looked at him as calmly as she could. "A pallet by the hearthside will have to do."

"Of course," he said. "Did you think I meant with you?"

She sucked in a breath sharply. Yearning, loneliness and disappointment swamped her. Lachlann MacKerron was not the tender, loving man she remembered, the one who haunted her dreams. He was cool, snappish, reserved, nearly a stranger. She could not expect anything more from him, after so long.

But oh, how she wanted more. Instead, she whirled and fled the stable.

The Sword Maiden

The Celtic Nights Series

Book Three

by

Susan King

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The Sword Maiden

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THE STONE MAIDEN

The Celtic Nights Series

Book One

Excerpt from

The Stone Maiden

The Celtic Nights Series

Book One

by

Susan King

National Bestselling Author

THE STONE MAIDEN

Reviews & Accolades

"King—whose research into the territory and time period is evident—strongly draws readers into the plot and her characters' lives."

~Publishers Weekly

"Exhilarating... Demonstrates why fans and critics cherish her novels."

~Affaire de Coeur

"Filled with excitement. Susan King shows why she is considered by fans and critics to be one of the monarchs of the sub-genre."

~Midwest Book Reviews

"A strong heroine [and] an honorable man... this story brought a tear to my eye. Every part blends seamlessly... I could feel the mist and smell the heather."

~LaurieLikesBooks.com

Scotland, The Highlands, 1170

Sebastien scanned the shadows in the old church out of habit, though he knew no danger existed here. He was simply waiting, silent yet wary, as was his duty as a king's guard, while the visiting Highland girl explored the abbey. Pray saints she would hurry. He had other things to do than stand here. Yet at the same time, he sensed she needed a little peace here, and he would allow her that.
 

The place seemed to glow, he thought, glancing around its familiar interior. Perhaps its luminosity came from the afternoon light—or perhaps the girl created it, he had the sudden thought, like a flame inside a lantern.

She was indeed a flame, for earlier in audience with the king, she had stirred him to temper when he preferred cool control. In scarcely an hour's time, she had ignited in him fascination, lust, envy, anger, and frustration. Now she roused something else in him—a protective urge. Odd, he thought.