Waking the Princess by Susan King Page A

access to it."
    "I believe you will find that wall rather ordinary and a disappointment. There is no horde of treasure, no carved Pictish stones, nothing to indicate an ancient site."
    "There does not have to be something fantastical sticking out of the ground for it to prove ancient. According to the treasure trove law, the National Museum must evaluate any discovery that might be historical, regardless of how ordinary it may appear."
    "I am aware. But it is merely a legal exercise in this case, I think."
    "We shall see, sir. There is a legend that King Arthur himself buried gold in those hills."
    He lifted a brow. "You know of that legend? Ah, you have succumbed to my father's magic. I almost forgot."
    "I am not certain I take your meaning."
    "He invented that tale of a golden horde and added King Arthur to the cast of characters in his poem, The Enchanted Briar. Many think his tale was factual, but it was mostly fiction."
    "Sir Hugh based his verses on legends founded in history."
    "He took thin tales and fleshed them out in his imagination. Do not waste your time, or your museum's time, on fancies, Mrs. Blackburn."
    He stood, aware that she stared up at him and regretting his sharp tone. But he was impatient where his interrupted road was concerned—and he could not soften any further toward her. He found her simply too damned intriguing.
    "I will wait for you and your brother in the foyer, madam." With a courteous nod, he left the room.
    * * *
    A dark net draped over her neatly tipped black hat lessened the sun's glare as Christina followed Aedan's long-legged stride down the front steps. John made his way more slowly behind them. In the drive, Tam Durie waited beside a two-wheeled carriage harnessed to a huge bay with white feathered feet.
    "Yer gig is ready, Sir Aedan," Tam said after greeting them. "Andrew Mor came doon frae the hoose to say ye wanted it, though we had Pog saddled for ye. D'ye want me to drive?"
    "Thank you, Tam. I'll drive the gig, and Pog can follow on a lead. Unless, Mr. Blackburn, you would like to ride the mare." He indicated the gray horse walking up the drive in the care of a young groom, a slight blond lad in a shabby kilt and jacket.
    "I'd be happy to ride her," John said, grinning.
    Tam tipped his hat and departed. While John vaulted into the saddle, Christina accepted Aedan's assistance into the high seat of the gig. "I promise you that I drive more sedately than Tam," he commented, taking the reins.
    "I found his driving rather refreshing," she answered.
    "Somehow that does not surprise me."
    They moved ahead, while John, mounted on the gray, rode beside them down the private lane to the wide public road. Aedan kept the huge feather-footed bay, harnessed to the gig, to an even pace. Perched on the springy, cushioned bench, Christina glanced at him.
    "You needn't creep along for my benefit, Sir Aedan."
    "I was considering my horse, Mrs. Blackburn. Pog is not accustomed to walking beside a vehicle, nor is she used to different riders, though your brother handles her well. She's a temperamental thing."
    "Pog?" she asked, curious.
    "Short for poigeanach ." He glanced at her. "You know Gaelic, Mrs. Blackburn, do you not?" His eyes twinkled, and a smile played around his flexible lips.
    "Poigeanach? What does it mean?" John asked.
    "Fond of kissing," Christina answered.
    Aedan grinned. "Tam named her. He kisses her on the nose each night, ever since she was a colt. He was present at her birth, and she's more his horse than mine. Tam swears she cries without her good-night kiss."
    John hooted, and Christina laughed. She sat close to Aedan on the narrow seat, and even through her skirt and petticoats, she was aware of his long thigh beside hers and his arm brushing hers.
    The road was a clean ribbon over the moor. "The route is in good repair," she observed. "So many Highland roads are rutted and rough, or have alarming curves and steep slopes."
    "This is an old drover's track, which we rebuilt