Bedding the Enemy - By Mary Wine Page 0,34

lower lip. “He’s out of coin.”

Edmund sniffed. “A Knyvett is never out of coin.” He raised a hand and snapped his fingers. A neatly dressed man instantly answered the summons, although there wasn’t a look of subservience in his eyes. It was more calculated, more knowledgeable than that. Keir studied the man, picking out the details of fine tailoring in the man’s doublet. There wasn’t any of the gold beading or lavish lace such as Edmund wore, but there was piping and corded buttons that displayed the same level of tailoring. The only difference was the materials. The man had money, no doubt about it, and his presence in the gaming house told Keir he was a loan merchant. Part of the middle class who made good profit off making loans to the nobles.

A fat purse landed on the table in front of Edmund. He smirked and arched an eyebrow at Ronchford.

“I say we dispense with this toying about.” He slid the entire amount into the center of the table. Ronchford matched him, greed brightening his face.

“I’m game.” Keir tossed his own gold into the pile and waited for his cards. Part of him was fighting the urge to remain at the table. That was McQuade money and he was still not accustomed to considering it his due as laird. But fortune favored the bold. Besides, he still had plenty of coin left in front of him, courtesy of Edmund’s intoxicated betting. Keir let his head tilt to one side, his eyes closing to slits. Ronchford smiled before shifting his attention back to his own cards. Edmund wasn’t as candid. The lordling chuckled.

“Do you like the wine, Scot? I hear it’s difficult to come by in Scotland.”

“That it is. Must explain why I’ve enjoyed so much of it.” Keir lift the tankard to his lips and took a swallow. Edmund watched him, glee dancing in his eyes. He looked back down at his cards, his emotions showing plainly on his face. Keir put the tankard down close to the edge of the table. Farrell slipped it off, replacing it with an empty one, just as he’d done several times during the night. The serving girl refilled it a few moments later, to Ronchford’s delight.

Predators. Keir had never seen men that reminded him more of a pair of predators. Their only desire was to feed and please themselves.

Keir held his emotions behind a carefully controlled mask of drink-induced jovialness. Inside he was disgusted. The pair of them were little better than thieves or wolves. They targeted the weak.

Edmund turned his cards over with a flourish. Ronchford smiled and showed his own. The man was already reaching for the money when Keir tapped the tabletop. It was a soft sound, but everyone was focused on the high-stakes game.

“It looks like luck favors me this round.” Keir slurred his words just a small amount.

Ronchford cursed. His fist hit the table, making the coins bounce. He stared at the cards and cursed once more.

A second later he pushed back from his spot, his chair legs skidding on the floor. He scraped his remaining coins back into a purse. “I’m done with playing with Scots.”

“Oh, such a shame.” Keir pulled his winnings toward him and took another swallow of wine. Edmund was silent, his attention on the pile of money in front of him. Keir fondled it, sliding his hand into the coins and allowing them to slip through his fingers.

“Nothing sounds quite like that, now does it, laddie.” Keir announced.

Edmund looked across the room, but the loan merchant shook his head. Anger turned his face red and his gaze returned to the pile of gold and silver coins in front of Keir.

“What are ye going to do with that much coin? Buy sheep?” Edmund demanded

It was a common slur, one that Keir had heard before. The English nobility considered Scotland a barbaric place, devoid of modern homes and comforts. It was an attitude most of his fellow lairds enjoyed allowing to flourish. It kept the English out of their ancestral lands.

“Well now…I do enjoy knowing we’ve got sheep aplenty.” Keir rolled his head and lifted the wine tankard to his lips. Edmund leaned forward.

“You should set your sights on English land.”

Keir opened his eyes wide. “Now, where would I find a man willing to sell me land? Ye English nobles enjoy keeping that in the family.”

Keir allowed a thick brogue to settle over his words. Edmund reached into his doublet.

“My sister has a dowry

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