Lord of Shadowhawk by Lindsay McKenna

Author:Lindsay McKenna
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9781460334126
Publisher: Harlequin Enterpises AU
Published: 2014-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Tray hid the beginning of a smile as he saw Alyssa confidently walk out to meet him in front of the stable. Today, they were off to the lambing pastures, which lay nestled in the gray rocky mountains to the southeast of Shadowhawk. The morning was fresh, and sunlight lanced the gathering clouds from the north. A stimulating ocean breeze was making the horses restless, but Tray sat easily upon Rasheed, who was doing more than his share of pawing and snorting, eager to be off. The perturbed look on Sorche’s face as she bustled after Alyssa made Tray swallow his smile.

Alyssa had loosely plaited her hair into one thick, long braid, which hung across the white peasant shirt she wore. As his gaze swept lazily down her young, slender body, Tray could guess why Sorche appeared so dismayed. Instead of a riding habit, Alyssa had somehow talked Sorche into allowing her to wear a pair of his buckskin breeches. Her boots hugged her lower leg, and the breeches, although far too large, clearly displayed the curved length of her thighs. Sorche looked horrified.

“Good morning, my lord.” Alyssa was busily putting on kidskin gloves that matched her dark maroon wool cloak.

Tray tipped his head in respectful obeisance to Alyssa. She stood expectantly, waiting for him to say something. A spark of challenge glinted in her eyes and Tray couldn’t stop the smile that now lurked at the corners of his mouth. “Good morning, my lady.” Rasheed sidled and Tray pulled on the reins, quieting the stallion. He gestured to Old Ned, who stood ready beneath Thomas’s hand. “As you can see, we’re prepared for you.”

Alyssa was so intent on having to argue with Tray over her wearing a pair of breeches that she had failed to even glance at the horse she would be riding to the high country. Her lips parted in amazement. There, on Old Ned’s back, was a man’s saddle, not the customary ladies’ sidesaddle! Laughter gurgled up from her throat and Alyssa’s gaze darted from the saddle to Tray. She reached out her hand, resting it momentarily on the hard surface of his thigh.

“You knew!” she said in an accusing tone.

Gravely, Tray nodded, merriment in his gray eyes. “Actually, when Maura came to me earlier this morning, wringing her hands and telling me that you were tailoring several pairs of my old breeches, I knew,” he admitted. He looked over at Sorche, who still wore a frown on her face. “It’s all right,” he called to his foster mother, grinning recklessly.

Sorche crossed her stout arms across her ample bosom. “It isn’t right at all,” she grumbled, “wearing a man’s pair of breeches!”

Alyssa ran over and hugged Sorche, then she skipped back to Old Ned and eagerly mounted. The morning was chilly despite the first long rays of the sun reaching across the ocean to warm the Welsh land, and Alyssa drew the hood of the cloak over her head. “But we’re going to be working,

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