Bride for a Knight by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

Author:Sue-Ellen Welfonder [WELFONDER, SUE-ELLEN]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 0446404101
Publisher: Forever
Published: 2010-12-23T23:52:59.360000+00:00

Chapter Ten

Jamie stood in the middle of his brother Kendrick’s well-appointed bedchamber and tried not to frown beneath Aveline’s penetrating stare. He also wondered if his ears were playing tricks on him. Truth be told, he wished they were because he wasn’t sure what to do if they weren’t.

He did fold his arms over his chest and attempt to feign a look of manly innocence.

There were some things womenfolk were just not supposed to know about and, with luck, pretending ignorance would make the whole matter go away.

But the look in his lovely’s eyes and the way her back seemed to be getting straighter by the minute told him this matter wasn’t going anywhere until it was aired.

Jamie sighed.

An audible sigh and coupled with an expression that told Aveline exactly what she wanted to know.

Or better said, what she didn’t want to know.

Folding her arms, she considered her options. Clearly, James Macpherson was well acquainted with the Glenelg joy woman. Even more obviously, he wasn’t keen on discussing her.

Unfortunately for him, she was.

Not that she expected anything good to come of gaining such knowledge. Indeed, thrusting her hand into a wasp’s nest might prove less painful. But the sultry beauty’s image wouldn’t let her go and neither would her own growing awareness of her smallness.

Aveline turned to a well-laiden table near the hearth and poured herself a generous portion of heather ale. An indulgence she regretted almost immediately because the table’s silver candelabrum cast its telltale illumination onto her hands, highlighting their daintiness.

A fault nowise near as galling as her tiny breasts.

And much to her irritation, the vexatious candelabrum spilled light across her bodice, too. A lovely bodice, to be sure, crafted of finest linen and decorated with a delicate band of stitchery.

Stitchery designed by her own wee hand for the sole purpose of attracting the eye away from the lack of the great swelling orbs most Highland maids flaunted with understandable pride.

Aveline frowned and set down her ale cup untouched.

The frothy brew wouldn’t help her grow a lush bosom. Nor would it solve a jot of her distress.

Sooner or later, Jamie would have to answer her questions about the woman—his paramour from the sound of it.

Resisting the urge to start tapping her foot, Aveline simply pinned the man with a look. As her father often said, what she lacked in physical size, she made up for in patience and calm. Her ability to persuade without words.

But instead of telling her about the bawdy widow, Jamie appeared content to stand before her with a closed expression, his jaw set and his mouth clamped tight.

He did run a hand over his face and wish himself anywhere beside where he was presently standing. Somewhere, where the devil wasn’t on the loose and out to get him.

Saints, even Cuillin was fixing him with a baleful, unblinking stare. An accusatory stare if e’er there was one. And coming from a male dog who’d ne’er denied himself his own pleasures, his disapproval stung.

All men visited willing-armed and succoring joy women, and he had a greater reason than most to do so.

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