Claire Delacroix by The Last Highlander Read Free Book Online Page B

befriending him.
    Though why he could not say.
    “But you do not understand,” Alasdair protested, flicking a worried glance to the rapidly disappearing Morgaine. “I cannot let her out of my sight!”
    The pair exchanged a quick glance that Alasdair did not miss. Indeed, if he had not been between them, he knew the woman would have given the man a nudge with her elbow. That intent glance - and the elbow nudge - was a signal he had endured many a time from Fenella.
    Particularly at family gatherings, where much was left unsaid. Were these two a pair, then?
    “I’m Blake Macdonald,” the man said cheerfully. A Macdonald of which persuasion? The clan had cleaved into those who avidly followed the Bruce and those who just as avidly did not.
    This Blake had not been upset at the mention of Alasdair’s name, so he must be with the Macdonalds who followed the Bruce. And ’twas clear this Blake did not realize what Alasdair had done to Fenella, a member however distant of his clan.
    Alasdair shook Blake’s hand and had a good look into the man’s eyes. Reassured, he looked after Morgaine.
    She had disappeared back through the doorway where they had met only moments past. Alasdair suddenly had a niggling feeling that there was something he should remember. His head throbbed vigorously at the effort and that whisky - not to mention a bite to eat - sounded even better.
    Aye, he had been fou as a puggie the night before, that much was certain, and now he had the aching head to show for it.
    “And this is my wife, Justine,” Blake continued. “We’re just here on vacation, from Chicago, you know, and we’d just love to buy you lunch. We were going to eat in the restaurant here - do you know whether it’s any good?”
    Because they seemed to be waiting for an answer, Alasdair shook his head. Vacation? Chicago? Restaurant? How could he understand anything about their world when he had only just arrived?
    “Well, we’ll try it anyway. You know, there’s nothing like hearing the perspective of someone right from a country...”
    “But, Morgaine!” Alasdair protested as they turned in the opposite direction.
    “Will join us later, I’m sure,” Justine interjected, then slid her hand into Alasdair’s elbow with a smooth grace.
    She reminded him of Elizabeth de Burgh - Robert the Bruce’s wife - always the perfect hostess and never at a loss for the right thing to say. Alasdair found such women slightly dumbfounding. They were so different from his gran who was feisty and spoke plainly.
    As Morgaine did.
    Now there was an unsettling thought! Oh, he had need of a bite in his belly. Alasdair stifled a desperate urge to turn tail and run from all of this.
    An eerie scream carried below the mount, something setting the very ground to rumbling. Too late, Alasdair recalled that detail of Morgaine’s domain and jumped despite himself.
    Aye, he was in a fine fankle, to be sure.
    “Morgaine’s dragon!” Alasdair muttered.
    Blake shook his head, frowning at a band strapped to his wrist. “No, no. 11:30.” He fanned through another book. “That would be the Highland Chieftain leaving Waverly Station for London. Right on time.” He glanced up to Alasdair. “ Morgaine’s Dragon isn’t on my train schedule. Are you sure it leaves from here?”
    “No,” Alasdair conceded, not having any clue what the advisor was talking about. Blake fumbled through his book, evidently looking for something, while Justine tapped her toe.
    Perhaps it would be a wise course to curry the favor of these trusted advisors of Morgaine’s. They might be able to help him escape the clutch of her spell.
    Alasdair could not outrun the land of Faerie, that much at least he knew as well as he knew his own name. ’Twas those who outsmarted the enchanted folk who returned to the world Alasdair knew to tell their tales.
    “Look, Blake, just leave it for now,” Justine said smoothly. “We’ve invited Alasdair to join us for lunch, after all.” She