Read Blue Bells of Scotland: Book One of the Blue Bells Trilogy for Free Online Page A

retrieving the bills spilling behind them. Reaching his room, he pulled her into his suite. She looked around in drunken delight, oohing and ahhing, racing through the sitting room to the bedroom, to touch the dark blue velvet curtains hanging from the four poster bed.
    "You curtains think...think curtains...." Shawn threw his head back and roared with laughter. The room spun. Caroline looked good. "You think the curtains are nice! Try the bed!" He lifted the tin bucket high, scattering money. Bills fluttered over the velvet comforter. He pulled her down, rolling in it, yanking at her clothes, and indulging in a drunken romp.
    "To the king," he muttered, shaking his head when they finished. Sleep began to swallow him. "To the king. What a night. What luck. To the king." He sighed, and fell asleep.

    Glenmirril, Scotland, 1314

    Deep in the dungeon, Niall, Iohn, and young William Darnley made their way, Niall limping, to the farthest reaches of the dank stone-walled tunnels. They'd ever been together, the three. It wasn't the first time they'd explored the dungeons, but it was the first time they'd come with MacDonald's knowledge.
    Niall grinned at Iohn and William. "The Laird was impressed with how quickly I learned my way through this maze."
    "'Tis your quick mind among other things that brought you to his attention," Iohn replied. With a friendly nudge in Niall's ribs, he added, "'Tis your good fortune I canna tell him 'twas me who taught you, or I might be the next Laird."
    Niall laughed easily. "'Tis both our good fortunes we canna tell him many a thing."
    "Aye, he'd no like to know you were messin' with his sackbut," William said.
    Niall chuckled at his failed attempt on the instrument. By watching and listening, he could copy anything. He'd had no one to watch. "'Twas a miserable thing, anyway." He turned back to Iohn. "Sure an' you'll be my right hand man, Iohn. As good as being the laird yourself."
    "No, Niall," Iohn murmured. "'Tis not the same."
    "We are like brothers," Niall replied. "What is mine is yours." Cold sweat prickled his forehead in the cool dungeon. He wiped a sleeve across his brow, raised the smoky torch, and searched the stone walls. The flame trembled, shining, off something metal. He worked his fingers into the hidden ring and tugged. A door scraped outward, revealing the chamber within, feebly lit by two torches. The lords huddled around the circle of light, their faces shadowed.
    "Welcome, Niall," the Laird rumbled. The three young men pushed through the narrow opening. Niall bowed all around, and settled his torch in a bracket. It flickered on rugged gray stones and black smoke stains, and over the older men already gathered. They wore leather boots, thick tunics, and heavy surcoats. Cloaks warded off the chill. Heavy gold chains hung around their necks, and rings glinted on several fingers. Smoke crept into nostrils and stung the eyes. The walls trickled with Scotland's eternal dampness. Several men glanced toward the door, wary still of being overheard.
    "The cattle are recovered," the Laird said. "They remain undisturbed?" He put his hand to his mouth, coughed forcefully, and wiped his hand on his tunic. The others glanced at him, then turned away, pretending not to notice.
    "Aye, my Lord," Niall said. "Are you ill?"
    "'Tis naught," grumbled MacDonald, with a heavy-browed glare around the men who might question his health and power.
    "We've kept careful watch over them, William and I," Iohn offered, quickly turning the subject back. "There has been no sign of the MacDougalls."
    "And Niall's wounds?" the Laird asked.
    "'Tis minor," Niall assured him. "I'll not even remember it on the fortnight."
    "You were seeing two of me only this morning," Lord Darnley reminded him.
    "Aye, but none would object to two of your comely face," Niall said. The men laughed. "And I am seeing less of the two of you as the days go by." He rubbed his head ruefully, where the hair covered the vicious purple bruising of