Lois Greiman
“Tatiana asked. Her world spun around her. There was too much, too fast. Too many emotions, fears, desires.“Don’t look so skittish,” MacTavish said. “It couldn’t be so horrible as sharing my bed.”Tatiana didn’t respond. Couldn’t, in fact.“Two men will be meeting at the Seaport.”“The Seaport.”“It’s an alehouse,” he said. “You haven’t heard of it?”“No.”“Bert tells me it’s not a place I should frequent. Mostly sailors gather there for drinks and a bit of sport.”She stiffened. “No.”“What?”“I’ll not ...prostitute myself for my freedom.”“You think I would ask you to bed another?”“What else?”He looked somewhat baffled, but continued on. “I want you to listen in on a conversation.”She scowled. “I have heard that men are not good listeners, but surely one could manage—”“Barton thinks they won’t be speaking the Gaelic.”“Barton?”“He gathers information for me.”“A spy?”“Of sorts. He tells me we’ll need an interpretor.”“So I, too, would be a spy?”“I have other people who might do the job, but they are occupied elsewhere.”“Where?”“Trouble brews on many shores.MoreLess
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