A Highland Knight's Desire (A Highland Dynasty Book) Read Online Free Page B

priest’s mouth and used a clergy’s stole to gag him.
    John frowned. “We bound a man wearing holy vestments?”
    “Wheesht.” Duncan’s eye wouldn’t stop twitching. “I’ve a mass to chant.”
    John clapped his hand to his forehead. “Heaven help us, you should have let me dress as the priest.”
    “Aye? If I had, Father Chamberlain would be blasting his gob to the rafters about now.”
    John paced. “We’re all headed for hell.”
    “Not before we finish this mission.” Duncan straightened his robes. “Stay here and make sure the bastard doesn’t make a sound.”
    John cringed. “Do ye have any idea what you’re doing?”
    “I’ve listened to mass enough. How hard can it be?”
    The naysayer crossed himself. “God save us.”
    Duncan stepped into the nave and cleared his throat. A petite woman sat in the front pew, a blue woolen veil covering her head. Red curls framed her face, almost bouncing as if they wanted to spring from the confines of her veil.
    A guard at the back of the chapel stepped into the light. “Where’s Father Chamberlain?”
    Duncan swiped a hand across his mouth. “He was called to the abbey on short notice.” He then cast his gaze to the woman—it had to be Lady Meg. She kept her eyes downcast. He launched into the only Latin litany he knew. Thanks to the tutelage of his stepmother, he could recite Sunday mass almost error free.
    The lady’s eyes snapped open when Duncan’s voice filled the chapel. God in heaven, her eyes were bluer than the veil she wore. They assessed him critically. Was he too loud? Had he mispronounced something? He quickly made the sign of the cross and sped his delivery.
    Moving to her knees, Lady Meg mouthed the words, crossing herself over and over. Had he not done that enough? Duncan crossed himself hastily while he willed away the relentless tic above his eye.
    When she drew her eyebrows together, he turned his back and proceeded to chant the communion prayer, blessing the wine and the bread. The heat of her gaze blazed into his back. He could still picture the vibrant blue of her eyes contrasting with her red curls. Jesus, her iridescent ivory skin made them appear all the more intense. God’s teeth, Arthur Douglas hadn’t mentioned a word about his sister’s beauty.
    Duncan picked up the plate and walked to the rail. She stepped out of her pew and knelt before him, holding up only one hand. Odd. He would have thought she knew to cross her right palm atop her left. He blinked. This was no time to think of formalities. “ Am bheil thu Meg ?” he asked in Gaelic.
    Again she knitted her brows. “ Tu es sacerdos? ” she whispered in Latin.
    He could have kicked himself. Obviously, a Lowlander wouldn’t understand Gaelic. But his charade hadn’t fooled her. “ Fortis —a warrior.” He placed the host in her palm.
    “What are you talking about, priest?” the guard shouted while marching forward. “I may not be able to speak Latin, but I know you’re saying things you oughtn’t.”
    Meg crossed herself yet again. “Dear Lord, please deliver me from my oppressors,” she said.
    Stopping at the rail, the guard glared and pounded the shaft of his poleax into the flagstone floor.
    Duncan stole a quick glance at Lady Meg. “As you wish, m’lady.” He flung the silver plate at the guard and snatched a knife from his left sleeve.
    Smacked between the eyes, the sentry flinched and stumbled backward.
    With a flick of his wrist, Duncan threw the dagger.
    The guard scarcely blinked as it hit him in the neck. “Help!” he croaked. Falling to his knees, he clutched the knife while blood poured down his hauberk. “Our walls have been brea—” He fell flat on his face, his body convulsing in the throes of death.
    Though Duncan’s heart thundered in his ears, he paused to listen for the creaking hinges of the chapel doors. With any luck, the guard’s voice hadn’t carried outside the thick walls.
    Meg clasped her hand over her mouth.
    “Do