A Highland Knight to Remember (Highland Dynasty Book 3) by Amy Jarecki Read Free Book Online

are faced with adversity, you must meet it head-on and make the best of your lot.” Mother twisted round and shook her finger at the lasses. “Eventually you will gain reward from your efforts.”
    Slumping further in her saddle, Gyllis presently cared not to think of being strong and industrious. She was not the lady of a keep, nor did she have any prospects of becoming one…unless Duncan was at court arranging a betrothal with some unsuspecting noble. Aye? That will never happen .
    Swooning with a wave of nausea, she moved her hand over her mouth. Her throat burned with an awful taste oozing over her tongue. Quickly, she leaned away from her gelding and retched with a gagging croak.
    If it hadn’t been for her knee hooked in the top pommel of her sidesaddle, she would have fallen on her face, curled into a ball and waited for death to claim her right there on the trail.
    “Halt!” Mother shouted. A circle of horses surrounded Gyllis. “Are you ill, child?”
    “I think I am.” Gyllis’s mouth filled with saliva while her head pounded even more relentlessly than before. “Initially I thought I was upset, but I’m perspiring and shaking. Everything aches.”
    Mother pointed eastward. “Mevan, you must speed our pace.”
    “Very well, m’lady.” The man-at-arms circled his hand over his head. “You heard her ladyship. Onward.”
    Gyllis had no choice but to persevere, growing sicker by the moment. By the time they reached Kilchurn Castle, she could no longer sit. She slumped over her horse’s neck, eyes closed, holding on and hoping the gelding would remain on course with the others. Her entire body felt as if pins had been jabbed into her flesh. Every step the horse made jostled her bones like she would shatter at any moment.
    Maintaining a fast trot, Mevan led them into the inner courtyard. Unassisted, Mother hopped from her mount and addressed her man-at-arms. “We must see her above stairs straight away.” She then pointed to Marion and Alice. “Quickly, fetch Lady Meg. Tell her Gyllis’s illness came on suddenly. She’ll know what to do.”
    Mevan stepped beside the gelding and reached up. “Fall into my arms, Miss Gyllis, I’ll see you’re right comfortable in no time.”
    It took all her strength to slip her knee from the top pommel and ease off the saddle.
    Mevan’s grip clamped too tight, like knives gouging her flesh. “You’re afire, lass.”
    The rumble of his voice caused her head to throb with unbearable pain. Gyllis shook uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered. “I’m so c-cold.”
    “I’ve no doubt you’re fevered,” he said, whisking her into the keep and straight up the tower stairs.
    Gyllis clutched her arms close to her body, praying the jostling would soon stop so she could collapse in the folds of her bed. The whole castle was drafty—made her teeth chatter. With no fire lit in her chamber, it was as frigid as it had been outside. She crawled under the bedclothes and shivered while her head pounded mercilessly.
    ***
    Angels wept from the dreary skies while Sean stood at the graveside beside Kilbride Church on Dunollie lands. The priest droned in an endless monotone, chanting the Latin burial mass. The Tenth Chieftain of Dunollie’s death mask had been hastily made. Sean had arranged for the most skilled stonemason to carve the effigy that would complete the tomb, but presently his father’s body lay wrapped in linen, hands still holding his bejeweled sword, awaiting internment into the granite crypt that would house his body through eternity.
    Sean’s mother had died of consumption five years past. Her death had been a somber time in his life, but did not compare to the hollow void now filling his heart.
    Da had been a powerful and decisive man. His father led the clan, facing the brutal realities of life, yet he had a gentle streak—one Sean didn’t always understand. But from his first memories, he’d looked up to his father—aspired to be like him. A tickle of