Page 3 of Laird of Smoke
This must be the man God had fashioned in His image.
He was broad-shouldered.Imposing.Confident, with an air of calm authority.
Dark curls framed his flawless face.His square jaw, cleanly shaved, was resolute.His chin lifted proudly, and yet he seemed to look down his nose at no one.
His expressive brows lowered fervently above eyes that glittered with the spark of passion and life.Eyes that could melt a woman’s heart.Or penetrate a woman’s soul.Or convince a woman to forget all about her religious calling.
Only then did Eve remember to breathe.
In the silence, he spoke in a low, rich, rolling voice colored by a soft foreign accent.A voice that made her think of the delicious wassail Sister Eithne served at Christmas.The concoction that warmed Eve to her bones and left her delightfully dizzy.
“I have brought word fromRoma,”he announced, “from His Holiness.”
The crowd gasped.Eve’s heart skipped a beat.
Was it true?Had the man come from Rome?
No wonder he looked so divine.He was a messenger from the Pope.
He lifted a rolled parchment in one hand.His sleeve slipped up a few inches, exposing a well-muscled forearm.
With his free hand, he solemnly made the sign of the cross.
Reflexively, Eve mirrored the gesture.
All at once, King Malcolm called down to him from the tower of Perth Castle.“You there!Did you say His Holiness?”
“Si!Il PapaAlexander III!”the monk called back.“You areRex Scotiae?”
“We are,” the king confirmed.
“Then,Signore,the missive is for your ears as well.”
A message from the Pope to the king?Could he intend to broker peace?
Her mind reeled.Then, as soon as she could think straight, a reprehensible idea slipped into Eve’s brain.
Never mind that the holy monk was handsome and compelling and persuasive.
He was about to undermine her ambitions and foil her plans to save the day.
Of course that thought was beneath her.Prideful.Ridiculous.Did it matter who handled the negotiations?As long as the results were beneficial, what difference did it make who initiated them?
If the Pope wished to claim credit for solving the conflict, so be it.After all, she’d said it herself.A happy ending made the details unimportant.
Yet the thought kept biting at her like a determined flea.
For months, she’d longed to do something important.
More important than rescuing pups from abusive owners.
More significant than praying over sick children.
More heroic than helping a knight elope with his true love.
And now, when she finally had an opportunity to prove her worth, who had shown up to ruin her plans?None other than the esteemed representative of the Pope himself.
She sighed.
