Lachlan's Bride by Kathleen Harrington

Author:Kathleen Harrington [Harrington, Kathleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9780062226334
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2013-04-29T14:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

* * *

Francine stared in horror at the performance unfolding before her. How in God’s name had Kinrath become part of the afternoon’s entertainment? Why was he wearing the costume of a Roman fighter?

The other gladiators in the arena were not the professionals who’d rehearsed so rigorously with Charles Burby last spring. They lacked the muscular physique and superb catlike grace of the Romany acrobats.

Grasping Colin’s arm, Francine rose to her feet, dragging him up with her. “Something’s wrong!” she cried. Terror-stricken, she clutched his hand. “Those men are not performers!”

She raced down the steps, Colin right behind her, and Diana fast on his heels

“Wait!” Diana wailed, pulling at his sleeve. “Wait for me!”

“Charles! Charles!” Francine shouted, running toward the Master of the Revels.

Standing beside the low wall that surrounded the arena, Burby looked over. “Lady Walsingham,” he called. “I’m coming! Stay where you are!”

Shoving his way through the spectators crowded alongside the wooden boundary, Burby reached out and grasped her hand.

“Who are those men?” she gasped, panting for breath. “Where are the Romany tumblers? What’s happened to our performance?”

“My lady,” Burby said, his round face filled with horror. “I don’t understand. Those men are strangers. I don’t know where they came from. Or what’s happened to our players.”

Hearing Burby’s disclaimer, Colin raced to Roddy Stewart. “Give me Lachlan’s sword,” he called, snatching a shield from the grass. “Guard Lady Francine,” he instructed the gillie. “Dinna let her out of your sight.” He turned abruptly and almost trampled on Diana’s feet. “Dammit,” he snapped. “I could have injured you. Stay with Master Burby and Lady Walsingham. Whatever you do, dinna try to follow me. Do you understand?”

Diana took a step back, clearly astonished at his bark of authority. “Yes,” she said meekly. “I’ll, I’ll do exactly as you say.”

But she was already talking to his back.

Colin hurtled over the low palisade and raced across the sand. He used his shield to smash his way through the ring of startled gladiators.

“Lachlan!” he shouted. “Your weapon!”

Lachlan grinned at the sound of his cousin’s voice. Hurling the wooden stump he held at the nearest combatant, he caught his sword.

“Good lad!” he called to Colin as he pulled the blade from its sheath.

Without another word, they pivoted to stand back to back.

“There’s only seven of them,” Lachlan told his cousin over his shoulder. “You can go on back to the stands now and have a seat if you’d like.”

“And miss all the fun!” Colin answered with a laugh. “Not on your life! Do we kill them all or just wound a few and let the others run away?”

“Since the princes is watching, we’d probably best knock them around a bit and toss them over the fence. This is supposed to be staged to entertain the fancy lords and ladies. No one came expecting to see real bloodshed, I hope.”

Colin gave a snort of derision. “Someone forgot to tell that to our fellow actors.”

“Let’s not vanquish them too quickly,” Lachlan cautioned. “Use your shield rather than your sword.

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