The Daring Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) by Carmen Caine

eyes took on a sparkle of humor. “Ah! I see! What is it now, Orazio? Is it three times that Le Marin has outwitted you?”
    “He’s a dangerous man, Liselle, and not one to be taken lightly!” He sent her a disapproving frown. “And the fact that he has rescued Dolfin from my clutches more than once can only mean he is of the Saluzzo family, working for Ferrara. We must do whatever it takes to protect our homeland!”
    She smiled. She was so different from her brother. He preferred to stay close to Venice, to protect it and its precious domination of the salt trade. He thrived on subverting enemy spies and delighted especially in sabotaging the schemes of the enemy city-state of Ferrara.
    Not her. She wanted nothing more than to leave Venice once and for all, and to explore far-off lands. “Then I wish you fortune in finding the man,” she said.
    At that, Orazio snorted, and then he ordered Pascal to make ready to join Albany’s party and to leave for England at once.
    Slipping past her arrogant cousin, Liselle skipped to her chamber as her spirits took wing.
    At last, she had her tongue. She was truly an assassin, and she was truly on her way to her first mission. She could only hug herself in anticipation.
    Taking a deep breath, she warned herself aloud, “Patience, Liselle. You must stay focused on your task.”
    Her foolish fascination with Lord Gray had nearly sent her back to Venice. She would never make that blunder again. Yes, the man was striking, with a rugged jaw, lean hips, and strong, muscular legs. And yes, the soft, rolling vowels of his Scottish burr sent chills down her spine. There was no doubt that Lord Julian Gray had been fascinating.
    But then, so were many other men.
    He certainly wasn’t worth the risk of being sent back home.
    Shrugging all thoughts of him aside, she quickly changed into a golden gown adorned with velvet and silk ribbons and slipped the stilettos into the hidden pockets sewn in the sleeves just for them. And then throwing her green, fur-lined mantle about her shoulders, she ran down to join Orazio at the garden gate, shaking raindrops off the leaves of the shrubbery as she passed.
    He said nothing as they set off through the rain pelting the cobblestoned streets. And in a matter of minutes, they had entered the inn housing Albany and were immediately escorted to where the prince was already waiting.
    Nobly attired in crimson velvet, Alexander Stewart, the Duke of Albany, was tall in stature, broad-faced, red-nosed, and large-eared. His hair was also red, but the brows over his brilliant green eyes were dark, almost black.
    He stood before the fire crackling on the hearth, clutching something in his hand and demanding that Orazio take care of the matter at once.
    As her brother joined him at the fireplace, Liselle moved to the window, shaking the rain from her mantle.
    “What does it mean?” Albany was asking Orazio, his face darkened in worry.
    At Orazio’s sharp intake of breath, Liselle’s interest was piqued. Leaving the window, she crossed the room to stand at her brother’s side.
    “The Turk’s head knot,” Orazio murmured softly, gingerly taking the fine gray corded knot from Albany’s outstretched hand.
    “Is it Le Marin? ” Albany cleared his throat nervously. “But what has Le Marin to do with me?”
    Orazio was silent for a time, inspecting the knot closely before finally admitting, “It appears genuine.”
    As Albany began to curse, Liselle reached over him to pluck the knot from Orazio’s grasp. Curiously, she turned it over in her palm. The fine gray cord appeared vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t recall where she’d seen it before. And as Albany and Orazio’s conversation turned into a heated debate over Le Marin’s possible concerns in Albany’s doings, she lost interest entirely. After placing the knot on a nearby table, she returned to the window.
    Le Marin was Orazio’s business. Not hers.

Chapter Four – The Quattuor