Read Susan King - [Celtic Nights 01] for Free Online

he reminded her.
    "In what my clan wants, not in what he wants!"
    "He thinks of Scotland. You think of Clan Laren."
    "What else should I think of?" she demanded, glaring at him.
    "You are wondrous full of argument," he commented. "'Tis good we go to church. Prayer might cool that Highland ardor."
    She sent him a fuming look and walked on. He strode beside her. After a while, she glanced sidelong at him. Despite her resentment, she wanted to know more about him, especially if the king thought him suited to her and to Kinlochan.
    "You must be heir to some great lord to earn such favor from a king," she said. "Is your family French or English Norman?"
    A fierce glint flickered in his eyes. "Not all men succeed through birth. Some achieve through merit and prowess. And determination." His tone was curt. "I was raised in Brittany and spent years in England, if you will know. I am Breton, rather than Norman from Normandy, or Norman English." He paused. "And I am no one's heir."
    "A younger son come to Scotland to acquire land and status and wealth, then. I suppose you think the Scots to be simple barbarians."
    "Not all Scots," he drawled, glancing at her.
    Lifting the hem of her gown, she walked faster. The knight strode beside her steadily despite chain mail and broadsword, as easily as if he could climb Highland hills in twice the armor.
    "You have the look of the Norse, tall and fair, as do your comrades," she said. "Are you related, you three? Are your kin descended from Vikings, like some Highland families?"
    "So many questions," he said. "We are not related. The knights of the Breton honor guard are matched for size and fair coloring. And there may be Norse blood in me. I do not know for certain."
    She blinked in surprise. Every Highlander she knew could recount his or her heritage. "I suppose Normans do not keep so careful a memory of their family lineage as do the Gaels."
    "Bretons and Normans are proud of their lines of descent," he said. "And proud of the worth of their surnames."
    She glanced at him, startled. He smiled politely, but a fleeting spark in his eyes belied that coolness.
    He was like a wild cat sunning on a rock, she thought suddenly—calm on the surface, taut power beneath. He would be ferocious if provoked. Yet she saw kindness in his gaze, and in the gentle curve of his upper lip.
    They reached the grassy courtyard that fronted the west entrance of the church. Twin towers soared above oak doors framed by stone arches and slender pillars. Alainna did not see Giric. The abbey grounds were deserted but for a few black-robed Benedictines who walked there.
    She mounted the steps to look at the carvings on the column capitals. The knight joined her. "A beautiful abbey," he said.
    "Yet it must seem humble compared to cathedrals in France and England. I hear they are like miracles of stone and glass."
    "This place has strength and simplicity. I prefer that to showy grandeur."
    "'Tis similar in design to Durham Cathedral in England. Some of the stonecarvers who worked at Durham came here too."
    "You know the abbey history well for one who is not local."
    "My father's cousin made carvings here twenty years ago. He was a stonemason," she explained. "I have long wanted to see his work here." She touched a column. "He told me that Dunfermline has become a pilgrimage shrine because our beloved Queen Margaret is buried here. She was so good a soul that many Scots believe she should be declared a saint."
    "I have said a few prayers to her myself. She has become a patron for the poor and the lost." He reached out to touch the stone too, his hand large and strong, dusted with golden hairs.
    "You are here in Scotland to gain land from Scots." She turned away. "I doubt our Queen Margaret would consider you poor and lost."
    "You share your temper with me easily enough. Will you not share your saintly queen as well?"
    "I meant—"
    "I know what you meant. You think little of Normans."
    "'Tis not that," she said,