Highland Angel by Hannah Howell Read Free Book Online Page A

Fraser had fled. The woman did not pause, but scowled at him as she passed, and Payton nearly laughed. Clearly, at least one of Fraser’s family was attempting to keep the man’s wife from behaving badly. There was a chance Fraser himself had asked the woman to stay with his wife. That could prove helpful. Since he had pursued Lady Fraser, he could not think of a kind or even reasonable explanation for why he was no longer interested. If Lady Fraser was now saddled with a dragon of a chaperone, he would rarely be pressed for excuses to refuse her sensual invitations. He did not really wish to insult Lady Fraser. If nothing else, his sudden obsession with a small, smoky-eyed woman could prove fleeting, and he might regain an interest in what Lady Fraser so eagerly offered.
    Returning his attention to Sir Roderick, Payton tensed and had to fight hard to quell the urge to race over to the man, sword drawn. Sir Roderick had his hand on the shoulder of a small page. It was obvious the boy did not wish to be held there, and the way Sir Roderick studied the child made Payton’s insides churn. He knew he could not openly drag away any boy who got near the man, not yet, but this time he could act. This boy was a kinsman, a MacMillan. As he walked toward Sir Roderick, Payton carefully and tightly tethered all his fury and disgust.
    After nodding a greeting to Sir Roderick, Payton clasped the boy on the shoulder and gently tugged him away from the man. The way young Uven shuddered once and relaxed made Payton wonder if the boy had sensed the threat in Sir Roderick. Uven was, after all, Lady Maldie’s grandson and Payton knew she had many a gift, as did others in his clan. Payton much preferred that possibility to the one that had Uven knowing about the evil in Sir Roderick because he had already been subjected to it. The mere thought of that had him wrapping his arm around the boy’s thin shoulders and holding him closely, protectively, by his side.
    “Are your parents here, Uven?” he asked the boy as he slowly walked him away from Sir Roderick. “’Tis far too long since I saw Cousin Morna and old Iain.”
    “They are still at Dunncraig,” replied the boy. “Cousin James will soon take his place as laird there, but Papa will be his mon still. Cousin James has given us a fine, wee piece of land and a good stone house.”
    “An honor indeed and one weel earned. Who are ye serving then?”
    “Sir Bryan MacMillan, one of my fither’s highborn cousins.” He cast a brief, nervous glance back at Sir Roderick. “I am glad ye came to fetch me. I cannae like that mon.” Uven trembled slightly and edged closer to Payton.
    “Has he done something to make ye uneasy?”
    “Nay, not truly. ’Tis just that he feels bad, ye ken? He seeks me out, and when he touches me, I feel ill. Mama told me to ne’er ignore such feelings, as many Murrays are gifted. So, I try to stay far away from that mon.”
    “Good. Continue to do so. And, tell Sir Bryan what ye just told me. He kens the Murrays weel. He will heed your words and help ye stay away from Sir Roderick MacIye.”
    When the boy looked up at Payton and smiled, Payton nearly stumbled. It was Callum. True, Callum had yet to smile, but he had the same eyes, the same features, the same hair. Uven was only eight, but the baby softness was already leaving his features, revealing the fine bone structure Payton saw in Callum’s face. No wonder he kept thinking something about Callum was familiar. The boy was a MacMillan to the bone; he had to be. The only trouble would come in trying to gather enough facts to prove it.
    “Is something wrong, Cousin Payton?” Uven asked.
    “Nay, laddie. I was but suddenly taken by how much ye look like the MacMillans.”
    “Aye, Mama says I am a MacMillan to the verra marrow. She says she could think I took naught from her or the Murrays save that I have these feelings about people.” He frowned. “They are a wee bit frightening. Mama says she will