going to Glasgow, she’d taken pains to remind him that she too had the king’s ear. The conniving wench. And she’d done it all while cloaking the threat beneath a flighty woman’s illogical logic. Aye, that’s what she’d done, and it wouldn’t work.
“Lady Armstrong, you risked life and limb by running—”
“Please address me as Greer.” She smiled up at him, and the elusive dimple he’d spied in her parlor again made its appearance. “Lady Armstrong sounds silly out here in the middle of nowhere, don’t you think?”
Britt ground his teeth. “Greer, you risked life—”
“You truly are most accommodating. And I shall address you as Britt if you’ve no objection…so long as we are alone. To do so at court would appear most unseemly. I provide the gossips with fodder enough as it is.”
“Since when has gossip ever concerned you ?”
She blinked, and then with hurt obvious in her eyes, she heaved a weary-sounding sigh and looked away. “You’re quite right, of course.” She tugged on her reins. Reluctantly, he let them slip from his control. As she adjusted the leathers in her hands, she murmured, “Now that we have all that settled, shall we go? Our king awaits.”
Seething, he waved her ahead. “After you.”
Riding in her wake, he took what pleasure he could in staring daggers into her lithe back. Which woman was the real Lady Greer Armstrong? This determined conundrum, who would not be denied…or the flirtatious and thoughtless songbird he better knew from Edinburgh?
He had no idea but would find out.
Scotland’s security could well rest on him doing so.
An hour later, Lady Greer twisted in her saddle to look back at him. “Britt?”
“Aye?”
“Why do you ride so far behind? The trail is wide enough for two now.”
Why indeed. He’d learn nothing more about her by glaring at her bonnie arse. Coming abreast of her, he asked, “Content?”
She slid a sidelong glance at him from beneath thick lowered lashes. “Aye, and I wish to apologize.”
“Oh?” This was likely the first time she’d ever done such.
Turning her attention to the forest surrounding them, she murmured, “I understand that you’re in an untenable position. You’re obviously an honorable man, and I suspect my…words have made your task all the more unpleasant for you. If it helps ease your mind, please know that the mistress loves her king as he loves her.”
Humph! He hadn’t expected her to hold out so large an olive branch. “Lady Armstrong, my liking for a king’s order is never a consideration. I do my duty, like it or not. As for your relationship with the king, I do not challenge that you love him. He can be most charming when he’s of a mind.”
But the lady was very much mistaken if she thought her feelings were reciprocated. She might be the king’s favorite—not only was she most lovely on the eye but could prove most disarming—but she was also one of six women the king regularly bedded, including the consort.
She cocked her head and studied him in that earnest way she had. “Do you wish to say something else?”
Aye, he wanted to say he found her confession and demeanor to be at odds with the self-serving female he knew but then thought better of it and shook his head.
She heaved a resigned sigh. “As you lust. I just wanted to be sure you understood that I hold no ill will toward you, that there are simply times when—like it or not—we have to do and say what we must.”
“If that be so, then why bother to issue a threat?” The woman was driving him mad.
“Mayhap someday you’ll come to understand.”
The path split before them, and without a word, he pointed to the right, and she obediently eased her palfrey down the deep boulder-strewn glack cut into the land by the rushing burn before them, dividing glen from forest. Reaching the far embankment, her palfrey stumbled, then limped to a stop. Suspecting the gray had picked up a stone, Britt charged through the
“Lady Armstrong, you risked life and limb by running—”
“Please address me as Greer.” She smiled up at him, and the elusive dimple he’d spied in her parlor again made its appearance. “Lady Armstrong sounds silly out here in the middle of nowhere, don’t you think?”
Britt ground his teeth. “Greer, you risked life—”
“You truly are most accommodating. And I shall address you as Britt if you’ve no objection…so long as we are alone. To do so at court would appear most unseemly. I provide the gossips with fodder enough as it is.”
“Since when has gossip ever concerned you ?”
She blinked, and then with hurt obvious in her eyes, she heaved a weary-sounding sigh and looked away. “You’re quite right, of course.” She tugged on her reins. Reluctantly, he let them slip from his control. As she adjusted the leathers in her hands, she murmured, “Now that we have all that settled, shall we go? Our king awaits.”
Seething, he waved her ahead. “After you.”
Riding in her wake, he took what pleasure he could in staring daggers into her lithe back. Which woman was the real Lady Greer Armstrong? This determined conundrum, who would not be denied…or the flirtatious and thoughtless songbird he better knew from Edinburgh?
He had no idea but would find out.
Scotland’s security could well rest on him doing so.
An hour later, Lady Greer twisted in her saddle to look back at him. “Britt?”
“Aye?”
“Why do you ride so far behind? The trail is wide enough for two now.”
Why indeed. He’d learn nothing more about her by glaring at her bonnie arse. Coming abreast of her, he asked, “Content?”
She slid a sidelong glance at him from beneath thick lowered lashes. “Aye, and I wish to apologize.”
“Oh?” This was likely the first time she’d ever done such.
Turning her attention to the forest surrounding them, she murmured, “I understand that you’re in an untenable position. You’re obviously an honorable man, and I suspect my…words have made your task all the more unpleasant for you. If it helps ease your mind, please know that the mistress loves her king as he loves her.”
Humph! He hadn’t expected her to hold out so large an olive branch. “Lady Armstrong, my liking for a king’s order is never a consideration. I do my duty, like it or not. As for your relationship with the king, I do not challenge that you love him. He can be most charming when he’s of a mind.”
But the lady was very much mistaken if she thought her feelings were reciprocated. She might be the king’s favorite—not only was she most lovely on the eye but could prove most disarming—but she was also one of six women the king regularly bedded, including the consort.
She cocked her head and studied him in that earnest way she had. “Do you wish to say something else?”
Aye, he wanted to say he found her confession and demeanor to be at odds with the self-serving female he knew but then thought better of it and shook his head.
She heaved a resigned sigh. “As you lust. I just wanted to be sure you understood that I hold no ill will toward you, that there are simply times when—like it or not—we have to do and say what we must.”
“If that be so, then why bother to issue a threat?” The woman was driving him mad.
“Mayhap someday you’ll come to understand.”
The path split before them, and without a word, he pointed to the right, and she obediently eased her palfrey down the deep boulder-strewn glack cut into the land by the rushing burn before them, dividing glen from forest. Reaching the far embankment, her palfrey stumbled, then limped to a stop. Suspecting the gray had picked up a stone, Britt charged through the
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