THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

enough in the last two weeks to know the laird of Blackstone was intent, to the point of obsession, on making an heir. To her infinite relief Angus responded, “Um...she was in the distillery an hour ago.”
    “Well, she isna there now.”
    “Have ye checked the chapel?”
    “Why would she go... Ah ha !”
    Duncan’s heavy footsteps receded and Beth peeked out from behind the basket. “Is he gone?” she whispered.
    “Aye, but ye’d best be away. If ye linger, he’ll be wondering why the fish are still sitting here.” As she came out of hiding, he said, “Now dinna ye be forgetting the pie ye promised me.”
    “Angus, I’ll make two if you can keep him occupied for that long.”
    Angus called, “I’ll try,” to her back as she trotted across the bailey, keeping well away from the chapel and to the shadows.
    She’d almost made it to the keep’s door when she heard, “Hold ye, lass, right where ye be!”
    Damn .
    Whipping the door open, she waved over her shoulder. “Can’t dear! Something needs my urgent attention.” She then ran for her life.
    “Oh, nay, ye sweet thing!”
    Chickens scattered and men laughed as Duncan raced after her.
    ~#~
    “Ye heard nothing?”
    “I was too late, Isaac, but I feel certain the ensigns is Burgandian, not crafted by that sloth.”
    Isaac, aware she was familiar with the fashion wars raging on the continent between the powerful and wealthy Germanic princes and the French, didn’t question her opinion. He started pacing the library. “Where is Flora now?”
    “In her chamber.”
    “Mayhap she commissioned the piece in good faith and this Richard of Oban was merely taking the credit to turn a fast profit.”
    “Possible, but...” Who was she to say what was or was not possible, though she doubted Flora could be so easily tricked. Too, the man’s hands appeared coarser than those of a fine artisan. “In any event, she spoke only kind things about our lady on the way home.”
    “Hmm. Do you think she might be dissembling?”
    Rachael shrugged. “Mayhap she now finds our lady’s odd ways more acceptable since Beth saved her life.”
    “A strong possibility given Flora is nothing, if not self-serving.” He took her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Then we can do little but watch and wait.”
    Her beloved appeared none too happy about the prospect.
    “Nay, husband. We pray, and while I continue my vigil, you can keep Duncan occupied and away from poor Beth.”
    Isaac grinned. “Did she tell you what has set him on his current course?”
    She shook her head. “Did Duncan tell you?”
    “Aye.” He studied her for a moment. “Ye were right, my dear. She is a reborn, a spirit from a distant place and time made flesh again.”
    “Oh my.” When she’d mentioned the possibility, she’d been thinking on a philosophical plane, never truly believing it could be reality. Wide-eyed, she asked, “How has he taken this?”
    “He’d slit my throat if he heard me say this, but he’s frightened she may leave him, for she has the ability. I’ve no doubt he loves her, but with the possibility of her deserting him hanging over his head he’ll never acknowledge it to himself nor to her.”
    How stupid could men be? “Saying he loves her might well meld her to him.”
    “He believes a child will do that.”
    She sighed. Some men were apparently more foolish than she surmised.
    ~#~
    James the Bruce smirked as he read Flora Campbell’s missive. Her plan for kidnapping Lady MacDougall could be arranged— not easily for the MacDougall had placed his sentries well—but guards had never deterred him before and would not now. He had too much to gain.
    And who would have ever thought Duncan the Black’s Achilles heel would prove to be a wife?
    He tossed Flora’s missive, with her plea that no permanent harm come to Lady Beth, into the fire. He marveled at the woman’s stupidity. He would, as always, do what suited his purposes and clan. And he had other plans for Lady Beth.
    Once captured and placed in his dungeon, ‘twould take but a week, mayhap less, for Lady Beth to die. He would then order her body tossed over one of the many crags that bordered Bruce-MacDougall land so ‘twould appear she fell. The carrion crows will, nay doubt, lead a MacDougall clansman to her, but by then ‘twill be too late. For Lady Beth and the MacDougall.
    Looking at the missive’s ashes, he shook his head. God, spare me from a woman bent on revenge.
    ~#~
     
    Tears crept