A Faerie Fated Forever by Mary Anne Graham Read Free Book Online

imagined he was. The words, coming from him, hurt a great deal and she murmured, "Honesty can be more brutal than all the taunts and jeers combined."
    His eyes didn't leave the fruit about to overflow the widow's basket but his cheeks took on a bit of the hue of those apples and he winced at the direct blow. "I didn't mean..."
    The wicked widow interrupted, standing directly before the laird as she tugged an amulet of some sort that had conveniently fallen into the vast crevice of her cleavage. She fingered it as she spoke. “Since I compare so favorably, perhaps you could tear yourself away from the pleasure of her company and join me in private for a moment.”
    Heather watched Nial gulp as he goggled at the charm swaying over the prominent produce. An odd cloud swept over his navy eyes as his tongue rimmed his lips. After silent moments that felt like forever, he stood and Sorcha placed a proprietary hand on his forearm.
    A pang of alarm impelled her to save the braw laird and a spasm of jealousy spurred a sudden longing for a fence. Compelled a bit by both, Heather tried to draw back his attention and chase away those clouds. “I will see you at dinner so that we can continue our conversation.”
    He didn’t answer and his mesmerized regard didn't waver.
    Still fiddling with the talisman, Sorcha replied instead. “It’s not conversation he wants from me dear. You shouldn’t hold your breath waiting for him. Then again, do. Please do.”
    Heather awaited Nial's return through the entire meal but the chair beside hers remained empty. It received glares from all of the elders and across the way she saw her mother lightly rub her father's shoulder in an apparent effort to calm him. It didn't seem to help because Da's ruddy face darkened every time he looked at the chair.
    Calum made his way to Heather after dinner and apologized for the scene at the fair, which he assured her would never have happened if he hadn’t had too much to drink. She knew this man was Nial’s friend and clansman and decided to err on the side of forgiveness. She put on a smile, chatted and pretended an animation she didn’t feel because she had too much pride to appear devastated by Maclee’s desertion. They traded stories about interesting folks who were members of each clan
    He told her a story of a farmer. “Old Ian Grant spent his life trying to create the perfect Highland plough. The only problem was, he worked so hard at thinking up new ways to improve the device that he never managed to use it to tend his fields. His wife refused to hear a bad word about him – she defended him right up to the point where she keeled over one day tending those fields. Old Ian was a few feet away at the time, drawing a plough design on the dirt for their sons, who weren’t working either. It was some time before any of them noticed that the one who did all the work had gone on to her reward. ‘Twas said she passed with a smile on her face because she was lying down for the first time in years.”
    She broke out in laughter, recounting a tale about one of her clanswomen. “That tale reminds me of Cora. Her marriage was a contentious union, as her husband never tended the land to her satisfaction. She let him know about it too. She let him know at home, at the pub, at clan celebrations – pretty much anywhere he happened to be at the time. As the years went by, the man would look high and low for hiding places from his nagging wife. He passed in a cave, and it took Cora half a day to find him. When she did, she had been complaining for about fifteen minutes before it occurred to her that anything was wrong.”
    Calum laid his hand on her arm. “Perhaps we should introduce the widower and the widow, Heather.”
    “Yes indeed. Do you suppose she would get any work out of him?”
    “I suppose that both our clans would be betting on that for years to come.”
    After several more tall tales, Heather rose to leave. Calum tried to detain her but finally