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

doubt needled at the back of his neck. How in God’s name would he fill his father’s shoes?
    The clanswomen lamented and sniffled around him. Yet he couldn’t weep. The Eleventh Chieftain of Dunollie could not demonstrate weakness. Sean’s jaw clenched as he endured the morose tones from the seemingly endless mass.
    When at last the priest was silent, he nodded to Evanna, Jinny and Angus’s daughter. The lass stepped forward, wiped her eyes, inhaled deeply and began to sing a ghostly tune.
    Watchin’ yon hills of the heather,
    On the shores of the deep blue sea,
    A bonnie young lassie sat singin’ her sone,
    Wi’ dew on her plaid an’ a tear in her e’e.
    She swayed wi’ a galley a’sail and aw’ee,
    An’ aye as it lessen’d she sigh’d an’ she sung,
    Fareweel to the lad I’ll ne’er again see
    I’ll nay forget ye. Alas, yer mem’ry ’ll alway’ be wi’ me…
    Evanna’s voice sang clear as a curlew soaring above a loch on a misty dawn. The purity of her tone made chills spread across Sean’s back. She repeated the sad verse twice while wails from the women rose.
    When the song ended, an eerie pall cast a heavy blanket atop the gathering of MacDougall clansmen and women. The only sounds were sniffles and rainwater dripping from the leaves. Sean had not the inclination to move. He stared at his father’s body. Everyone did. He’d always known this time would come, but had been so busy adventuring throughout Scotland, he had never considered it would come so soon. But it wasn’t unusual for any man to meet the Lord at eight and fifty.
    If only I had spent more time with him. Now I’ll nay have a chance.
    Angus stepped forward and bowed. He then retrieved the sword from Da’s body and strode directly to Sean. “In the name of King James, you are the rightful heir. Carry the chieftain’s sword with pride.” The henchman held the two-handed sword out. “ Buaidh no bàs .”
    “ Buaidh no bàs !” the clan chorused with the Gaelic MacDougall motto, victory or death.
    Clenching his teeth, Sean grasped the sword and drew it from its scabbard. “I will carry this with pride and the MacDougall Clan will grow and prosper.” He held the blade over his head. “ Buaidh no bàs !”
    He slid the sword back into its sheath, secured it in his belt and set out. Thunder cracked overhead as he led the clan down the path to Dunollie Castle.
    Behind him, hurried footsteps slapped the mud.
    The hackles on Sean’s neck prickled.
    Before he could turn, Da’s sword was yanked from his belt. “I should be Chieftain of Dunollie, not a miserable piss-swilling maggot!”
    Drawing his dirk, Sean whipped around and crouched. Alan MacCoul moved fast as a fox. With teeth bared, he hacked down in a deadly challenge. Sean jumped back as the blade hissed through the air, just missing his flank. Circling, Sean eyed his nemesis. At last the bastard had given him the opportunity to end their feud once and for all.
    Eyeing his target, he waited for Alan to strike—to give him a flicker of an opportunity, and Sean would attack. “Make your move,” he growled.
    A thud sounded like a stick of wood hitting a tree. Alan’s arms dropped with the sword, his face stunned. He plummeted to his knees then fell to his face.
    Angus stood behind him, holding a branch as big around as a man’s calf.
    Sean picked up his father’s sword. “Why did you not let me finish it?”
    Alan writhed and groaned.
    Angus grasped the cur under the arm and tugged him to his feet. “I’ve no stomach for another funeral this day.”
    Sean sauntered forward and slid the blade under MacCoul’s chin. “In honor of my father I’ll spare you. Take your galley and be gone. I’ll have no more of your backstabbing. You are banned from Dunollie lands forever.”
    Spitting, Alan struggled in Angus’s grasp. “He was nay merely your father.”
    “Aye, we’re all hurting.” Angus pulled him toward the embankment where the clan’s galleys were