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

Gladiis

    Sometime later, after Albany’s fear of Le Marin was appeased, Pascal arrived and Orazio introduced him as a master spy to satisfy Albany’s every whim. Pascal was tall and thin, and with his arrogant air, dark cloak, and black doublet, he certainly looked the part.
    Albany was pleased immediately.
    And when Orazio explained that Liselle would be traveling in Nicoletta’s stead, Albany’s pleasure increased. Apparently, the man detested Nicoletta as much as she did him.
    As the conversation waned and they made ready to depart, Liselle caught Albany’s lecherous gaze upon her more than once. But it wasn’t particularly troubling. She knew many ways of handling such men, with methods ranging from cold words to sharp stilettos.
    A short time later and with rising excitement, Liselle found herself mounting a black mare and waving her farewells. And then, carefully fanning her green mantle out across the horse’s flanks, she turned her mare’s head and joined Albany’s party, bound for Bordeaux and thence to England.
    It was still raining as they set off, but as the day wore on, the clouds drifted away. They stopped for only brief periods of rest, pressing on until finally the last rays of the sun swiftly faded into darkness. And the moon was high in the sky when they finally arrived at a small inn to take rest.
    Liselle retired at once to her small, assigned chamber, but she was too excited to sleep. She stayed awake until the first signs of dawn, staring out of her window and listening to the crickets and frogs singing in a nearby pond.
    The morning found Albany in a particularly lusty frame of mind, and Liselle wasn’t surprised when the red-haired Scottish prince caught her about the waist and pulled her down to his knee.
    “Give us a wee kiss now, lass.” He laughed suggestively. “A kiss for luck!”
    From the corner of her eye, Liselle spied Pascal gracefully slouching against the wall with a smile of perverse amusement playing across his handsome face. It was clear that he had no intention of rescuing her. Not that she needed him to. But she found his attitude and lack of action annoying all the same.
    As Albany’s hand inched towards her breast, Liselle refocused her attention upon the man. And sliding a stiletto from her sleeve, she whispered into his ear, “I pray you, my lord, please remove your hands.”
    “And why would I do that?” Albany chuckled in delight. “My hands are quite pleased to remain where they are!”
    Liselle lowered her lashes with a lazy smile. “But I would fain see you keep them, my lord,” she breathed softly as her blade lightly pierced the flesh beneath his ribs.
    Albany jerked and removed his hands at once, but the interest in his eyes only deepened.
    Rising swiftly to her feet, Liselle stepped away, relieved that the prince was not one to force his interests. Returning her blade to its hiding place, she paused to send Pascal a disapproving look.
    He responded with an exaggerated yawn that plainly signaled boredom.
    And then Albany swept his arms in a grand gesture and announced he was ready to leave at once.
    The rain returned, and the going was slow. But finally, after several days of squelching through the mud, they arrived at Bordeaux where the burly Scottish captain, James Douglas, awaited them on his ship The Michael.
    Once settled in her small cabin, Liselle gratefully peeled off her wet clothing, and after slipping into a dry gown, wandered curiously around the deck for a time. But, as the looming dark clouds overhead threatened even more rain, she returned to her cabin and spent the evening listening with unease to the waves slapping the ship’s side.
    In spite of having been born in Venice on the edge of the sea, she had never cared for sailing.
    She could only pray the journey to England was a smooth one.
    But, alas, her prayers went unanswered.
    They set sail with the dawn, and shortly afterward the gusty winds ratcheted to a near gale force, tossing