A Laird and a Gentleman (All the King's Men #4) - Gerri Russell Page 0,4

out. But they all avoided her as they did now.

Mariam straightened her shoulders and walked past those gathered in the courtyard. They shied away as she approached. She didn’t take their rejection personally. In fact, she was relieved by it. If they didn’t look at her, they wouldn’t see all the things she tried to hide.

She’d come to feel somewhat at ease at Ravenscraig in spite of her own bad behavior. For the past year she’d convinced herself she’d found a safe haven at last. Yet she couldn’t afford to become complacent, drop her guard, or allow herself to be made vulnerable by the illusion of safety.

Mariam had experienced a moment of alarm when Lachlan and Elizabeth had come to stay, however briefly. Elizabeth had looked at her as though she saw through Mariam’s disguise—as though she knew her secret. But Elizabeth had remained silent. Once Lachlan and Elizabeth had departed, Mariam had thought the fear of discovery would vanish along with them, and in a small sense it had. The castle residents continued to ignore her, for which she was grateful.

Avoiding the bustle of the crowded courtyard, Mariam settled herself at the edge of the crowd just beyond the castle’s massive double doors opened wide in preparation for their laird’s imminent arrival. Cameron Sinclair and his men had been seen from the castle turrets, approaching from the north over an hour ago. Suddenly, the clomping of hoofbeats on the drawbridge brought Mariam’s thoughts back to the moment. All around her those gathered fell silent. She tensed her jaw, willing herself to ignore the increasing tension in her neck as Cameron came into sight.

Seeing what no one else around her could, she noted that Cameron’s aura was a mixture of blue, red, and yellow. Blue was the sign of calm. Red was that of energy and strength. Yellow was that of knowledge and power. Cameron’s aura was usually these colors, and that brought a sense of relief that she didn’t see any dark red—the sign of anger. She’d been able to read people’s auras all her life. Her mother, who also saw what Mariam did, had taught her from the age of three what each color meant. It was a secret they had shared, and one she cherished now that her mother was gone.

A bump against her shoulder brought Mariam’s attention back to the present. A man from the castle scurried away from her in an effort to get closer to the laird of the castle. She opened her mouth to offer a scathing retort, but snapped it closed as Cameron neared. He rode with a contingent of men, his own guardsmen, sailors, and one other she recognized from the tribunal as Alexander Ross, another of the king’s special guard.

Cameron brought his big black warhorse, Bucephalus, to a stop some distance from her, and still his gaze found hers among the crowd. Her demons stared at her from the depths of those dark eyes, demanding to know, even after all the time they’d been apart, why she’d accused an innocent man of witchcraft.

Mariam waited for him to look away. When he finally did, her body sagged and she closed her eyes, trying desperately to still her fears. She could always do as she’d done before and make light of the events, hoping Cameron would turn a blind eye to her behavior as he had in the past, or she could beg for mercy and admit she had wronged an innocent man.

Or, she paused as a third option occurred to her. She could tell Cameron the truth about what she suspected she was, and what her father would do to her if he found out.

For an instant, a spark of hope filled her. Could she, after so many years of hiding, finally share her secret with someone? Mariam felt an overwhelming desire to have another human being know her fully, to have another understand. Yet, with her next heartbeat that excitement vanished and she opened her eyes.

There was too much fear, too much risk, too much at stake for anyone to know her secret. Her only option was to remain silent and pray Cameron wouldn’t force her out of his castle. It would be her worst nightmare come true once again—being left alone with no one between herself and her father.

It had happened before. One day she’d had a doting mother. The next day, she did not. No explanation was ever offered, but Mariam had heard her parents’ arguments as she

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