Page 13 of Wild Hearts

"Dammit, Troy, I had my eye on that partridge for our guest. She's hardly eaten a thing," protested Alex.

All eyes were turned on her now. Alexandria spoke up quickly, "I have been thinking. It's not really fair for Tabbycat to be against all of us, so I've decided to be on her side, against the rest of you."

Shannon spoke up, "I will. I'm the eldest!"

"It was my idea, Shannon. It should be me because I'm the youngest."

Paris listened to the byplay.without comment.

"I have the most authority," Shannon stated firmly.

"I'm the brainiest," shouted Alexandria.

"I'm the prettiest," Shannon countered.

"You mean, you're the bitchiest!" spat Alexandria.

Shannon smiled slowly at Alexandria because she knew she had the last word. "And you're the plainest!"

Tabby gasped. "Oh, that was cruel!"

They looked at the newcomer with horror and immediately closed ranks. "Shannon isn't cruel. It was just a game of wits. What do you know about it, anyway?"

Paris came to her rescue. "The Cockburns are clannish. Touch one and you touch all." He glared at his siblings.

Alexandria smiled across at her. "You stood up to Shannon for me. That took guts. She only spoke the truth, though. I've always stood fourth"— she sighed—"now I'm fifth."

Tabby was amazed at the change in her feelings. She was beginning to like her captors. Not Lord Cockburn, of course, for he was a dangerous man, but his brothers and sisters, spoiled and selfish though they were, fascinated her. How she would have loved to be born into a large, warm family like this. They did and said everything with a passion. They fought and argued like bitter enemies, yet they stuck up for each other at the smallest provocation; plainly showing love and devotion. Someday she hoped she would have a brood of children. She could think of nothing more desirable than a home filled with the happy laughter of a large family. She had always been alone.

She thought doubtfully of Maxwell Abrahams. Perhaps he was too old to give her the children she desired, but he was so kind in taking her from the orphanage, perhaps they could take some of the little ones and bring them up as their own. She resolved to get back to Edinburgh at all costs.

After the meal, Paris ordered, "Borrow a pair of Alex's britches and meet me in the stables." She wanted to disobey him, but it was to her own advantage to master her fear and learn to ride.

A half hour later, when she entered the stables in the unfamiliar garb, The Mangler greeted her by putting her great forepaws on her shoulders. She screamed in terror until Paris pulled the monster off. He said with disgust, "Are ye afraid of everything?"

She shot back, "I'm not afraid of you," which was the biggest lie she-had told in her life.

He picked a small mare for her, showed her how to saddle it and led her out to the courtyard. An hour later she was still mounting and dismounting, but he noted with satisfaction that she had lost her fear of the horse in her annoyance with his repetitive orders.

"How long do you intend keeping me at this?" she demanded hotly.

"Until ye do it well, of course," he answered, exasperating her beyond words.

"I hate you!" she said, finally daring the words she had been longing to hurl at him.

He watched her face with pleasure. Tight little red curls sprang about her temples in the dampness from her exertion. She set her lips in a firm little moue; she was determined to get it right this time. Then the flash of lavender eyes, triumphant, as she knew beyond a doubt that she had mastered the task. He moved forward to lift her down.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed.

His arms reached up roughly and pulled her down to him. "I'll touch you and more," he threatened. And as the desire flooded through him, he felt unease as he marked how like one of them she was. He hoped against hope that she was not one of his father's bastards, then laughed at himself for a fool. What the hell did it matter to him? But it did matter. Perhaps she was a love-child of his father's brother, Magnus. That could also complicate matters. He was sole heir to his Uncle Magnus's earldom, Castle of Tantallon and all his worldly goods. If she proved to be Magnus's bastard daughter, he might have to say good-bye to a large slice of those worldly goods.

As she struggled, his hard hands brushed against the fullness of her breasts. The boy's shirt she wore was thin protection indeed from either his hands or his eyes as her bosom rose and fell with each breath. As her eyes lifted shamefully to his, she blushed so deeply that he instantly removed his hands from her body and gruffly said, "Go, and don't wear boy's clothing again.!"

The evening meal proved to be as lively as the earlier one. She chose the seat next to Alexandria's, and they exchanged conspiratorial smiles. She winced as she sat down on the hard wooden chair, and Troy said, laughing, "Whatever Paris has been doing with you all afternoon has made your arse sore."

Damascus looked disgusted and shuddered delicately. "Men are so coarse."

Alexandria whispered, "She means they piss in odd places."

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