Blue Bells of Scotland: Book One of the Blue Bells Trilogy by Laura Vosika Read Free Book Online

him. On a rough wooden stool, he braced his hands on his knees. A fierce red beard, heavily streaked with gray and white, sprang from his jaw. Matching eyebrows bristled in perpetual anger over craggy, hooded eyes.
    For another moment, his head drooped, giving in to the aching back, aching shoulders, aching arms. His muscles begged for rest. The headache, which had raged for days now, pounded at his temples, demanding a good night's sleep. He gave his head a fierce shake, stood, and arched his back. He stretched his arms over his head, flexing still-powerful muscles, and looked to the six foot crucifix hanging on one wall of the cave, back in a recess. He'd carved it himself, the year his son had been murdered by the English. It had given him strength then, and it gave him strength now.
    He bent back to the work in front of him, shaping and smoothing the wood to its purpose. It resisted, testing him.
    "Like a bairn, aern't ye?" He scraped the plane, curling up a thin spiral shaving. Like the oak before him, people resisted. "Niall, now," he said aloud. He rose again, inspecting his work, stooping to peer at a joint. A fine young man he'd become, just as he'd expected, the day he'd caught him kissing Allene. Capable. Intelligent. A quicker mind he'd never seen, faster than the tiny silver fish darting in the loch. A man who was loyal and inspired loyalty in return. He would make a fine laird, when his time came. "If ye dinna get yerself killed first," MacDonald muttered. Spotting a flaw, he resumed his seat, and set the plane again. His muscles tightened, holding the tool on course. But headstrong, he thought. Niall was headstrong. And overly confident. It would be his undoing. He'd warned him over and over: Trust no one.
    No one.
    A drop of water fell from the great wooden beam overhead, landing with a loud plop in the silence. He glanced at it. Niall had, MacDonald knew, exempted some people from the class of no one, without looking ugly possibilities in the eye. His confidence extended to other people, when maybe it shouldn't. He, himself, did not yet know who it might be, but a hard life had taught him that no one, ever, was exactly what they appeared. Niall had yet to learn that harsh truth.
    The Laird sighed, running his hand over the smooth surface of his handiwork, and deciding on his next step. The torches filled his eyes with smoke. He wiped the back of his hand against them, and thought of his soft bed. But his work was not done. He selected a chisel from his tool bench, and tapped it against the wood. Just a little more, he would do tonight. He thought ahead to Niall's journey. Niall would resist, argue, and, possibly do things his own way, despite the Laird's commands. Young men would be rash. He touched his chest, where the crucifix from the Monks of Monadhliath lay, praying that this young man, this time, would not be.
    He sighed, thinking of the many hours of sleep he had not gotten and would not get. "Niall, I've my fears, but I'll do my best for ye if it kills me," he whispered, and once again hefted his wood-working tools. The things in front of him were close to done, but time was short. Maybe, in a night or two, he could sleep.

    * * * * *

    Chapter Two

    Inverness, Scotland, Present

    Shawn woke to steel drums pounding his brain, and a dozen timpani thundering in his ears. All of them out of tune, too. Sun poured through the window, and skimmed past the half-open curtains of the four poster bed, blinding him. He squinted at the clock; groaned; looked at Caroline, stretched cat-like on piles of rumpled pounds. He'd have to count those before Jimmy came. It wouldn't do to come up short in front of the man and his mates. He groaned again, rolled over on Caroline, and woke her with a few playful kisses. She giggled; protested, "I feel so good, I must still be drunk!" She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him. For a few minutes, the pounding in his head dimmed.
    She gave a long, contented sigh and