Page 2 of Wild Hearts

Paris looked across at Troy. He felt a close brotherly affection for him. But who couldn't like Troy? He was such a handsome young devil, always laughing, always good-natured, The young girls of the village dangled after him shamelessly. He totally lacked the dark, forbidding looks that Paris had inherited from a Cockburn ancestor. "What did you get today?" asked Paris.

"Two red deer, one roe," answered Troy with pride.

Paris nodded his approval. "Can you forgo the pleasures of the hunt for a couple of days? I'm going into Edinburgh, and I prefer you stick close while I'm gone. I'll only take a small troop, but it would be just like the bloody Gordons to mount a raid as soon as my back is turned."

Alexander and Alexandria, thirteen-year-old twins, sat in the corner whispering together. Alexandria nudged her twin; made a sly remark and convulsed her brother. Alexandria, though a pretty child, could not claim beauty as her sisters did. She was the only one to be cursed with freckles, and to add insult to injury, she was the only sister lacking upthrusting breasts. She envied her twin's maleness and would have swapped places with him instantly if such a thing were possible. She did possess a cutting wit, which Paris did not approve of in one so young, but she could not or would not control her tongue. She almost invited his reprimands.

Paris frowned. "You may repeat that remark for everyone's edification, Alexandria." His dark brows drew together as he observed the twins with a dangerous scowl.

Alexandria's heart beat thickly as she faced her brother and saw the menacing flare of his nostrils. Then she tossed her head and repeated, "The three witches of Macbeth over there will run man mad, once the dragon leaves."

"I assume by 'dragon' you mean me?" Paris asked, his voice harsh and threatening.

Shannon diverted Paris's attention from their little sister. "Come now, Paris, you must admit you are easygoing only when it suits you. Usually, you rule with an iron hand."

"By God, I have a need to. This place is overwomaned!" he declared ominously. He glanced accusingly at his brother Alex. "You're supposed to be on our side." It set his teeth on edge to see Alexander's resemblance to his twin sister. His man's body hadn't yet developed, and Paris worried about his quiet, passive personality.

"I think we're better off without him," Troy said, laughing. He went off to change his bloody attire because The Mangler wouldn't leave him alone.

Shannon took a cloth to the carpet, and Damascus shuddered and advised her to let a servant do the distasteful job of cleaning up the blood.

"Well, speak up. What do you want in Edinburgh?" asked Paris, once more the indulgent father figure.

"I need some pale green ribbons. They must be the exact shade of my new gown; I'll fetch it so you can see," volunteered Damascus, dashing off upstairs.

"Only ribbons? That's a good, frugal girl," approved Paris.

"You must be jesting! When the wagon arrived from Edinburgh this morning, it positively groaned under the mountain of clothes she ordered, Shannon corrected, then added sweetly, "I don't need anything, thank you, Paris."

Venetia laughed aloud. "That's because half the things on the wagon were for you."

"Well," Shannon quickly countered, "you don't think I'm going to let her outdo me, do you?"

"I'd like some sugared almonds, please, Paris," begged Venetia, who at fifteen hadn't outgrown her girlish craving for sweets. He looked inquiringly at the twins.

"The handle on my dirk needs repairing. They can't do it down at the forge because of the jewels," spoke up Alexander.

"And I would dearly love the second volume of Shakespeare's sonnets." Alexandria smiled.

The young liars did not fool Paris for one moment. He knew damned well the knife was hers and the poems his but kept the knowledge to himself.

Rogue Cockburn did not hesitate outside the formidable gray structure but strode in with his usual air of confidence and authority. Well over six feet in height, he moved as if impatient to be about his business. The set of his jaw was so determined, his eyes so shrewdly piercing, he stood out in any gathering, and on the street heads turned to watch him. He had discarded the leather jack in favor of an elegant blue velvet doublet with real gold buttons. His crest, a lion rising from a coronet, and his motto, "Endure with Strength," were embroidered in gold thread. His rings flashed fire. On one hand was a ruby, on the other an emerald, as well as a heavy gold seal ring, bearing his crest. A huge emerald earring swung from one ear.

What he wore at his belt had nothing to do with fashion. He always carried his dirk on the left and a short-handled whip tucked in on the right.

The entrance hall was bare and dismal. The air seemed dank, as though the windows had been sealed shut forever. A middle-aged woman appeared instantly. She was dressed in black from head to foot, her only adornment a bunch of keys dangling from her waist in chatelaine fashion. One look into her eyes told Paris she was neither kind nor motherly.

"How do you do, madam. Allow me to introduce myself."

"I know who you are, milord." She bent her head in acknowledgment, but not her knee. "I am Mrs. Graham." Silently she thought, Rogue Cockburn! Everyone in Edinburgh has seen you swaggering up the High Street.

"Mrs. Graham, I should like to have a look around your orphanage and perhaps have a word with one or two of the children," he explained politely.

"Certainly, milord," she said without batting an eye. "Next Friday at two, I would be pleased to give you a tour and present some of my pupils to you." Silently, she thought, Whoremonger! I bet there's more than one of your by-blows inside these walls.

"Today would be more convenient, Mrs. Graham." He smiled slightly, masking his annoyance.

She frowned, and her lips pursed as if she had been sucking persimmons. "That would be impossible, milord."

---