Highland Seer by Willa Blair Read Free Book Online

Or one of the other Lathans, bored and thinking along the same lines Donal had been moments before? Aye, a dram with a friend would not go amiss. He tossed the shirt onto the bed and hurried to the door before the Lathan on the other side started pounding loud enough to disturb the entire keep.
    When he opened the door, it was all he could do not to close it again in shock. The MacKyrie stood in the torchlit hallway. She gave him a quirk of her lips as he stared at her, too surprised to utter a word.
    “I’m sorry to bother ye, Donal McNabb, but I wished to speak to ye privately.” She glanced away, down the darkened hallway.
    “Privately? Why did ye no’ send for me, then?”
    Her gaze returned to him, bold, even defiant, as she glanced over his shoulder. “May I come in?”
    Donal’s eyes widened. Into his room? Alone? This couldn’t be good. She must be upset about her arms master after all.
    Finally, Donal remembered his manners. “Aye,” he said, stepping back to let her pass by him in to the room. “Come in.”
    He turned to face her, leaving the door open, but she gestured for him to close it. He did so with a frown of apprehension, then remained with his back to the sturdy oak. He crossed his arms, only then remembering his chest was bared to the eyes of this lass. He started to retrieve the shirt from his bed, then decided he’d better not draw attention to the bed at all. Ellie had gone to stand by the fire, for which he was thankful, because he didn’t think he could restrain himself if she put the bed and her body in the same area. He settled his stance, kept his arms folded across his chest and waited.
    ****
    Ellie turned from the fire to study the man whose room she had invaded. Aye, invaded. She was laird, and a woman. He could no more refuse her than refuse to breathe. Though he should have, and they both knew it.
    It was highly improper for her to be here—alone with a strange man. An attractive man. A half-undressed man. One who sent her pulse to racing and quickened her breath. His naked shoulders, arms and chest bulged with muscle. His dark blond hair, badly trimmed, grazed his square jawline. His proud nose had been broken a time or two, but suited the intensity of his gaze. His eyes were hazel in this light, green in sunlight. What color would they be in the throes of passion? His mouth...were his lips soft or firm when he kissed?
    They were set in a stubborn line at the moment as he waited for her to explain herself. He probably thought she remained angry about Micheil, though in truth, Donal had given him a lesson he sorely needed. The few fighting men they had left were mostly untested. They’d been left behind to guard the keep while the Laird marched off with his heir and their best men to fight with the King four years before. The lads were barely more than bairns. Micheil had done a poor job of training them, but could scarcely be considered at fault, given that he’d still been in training when most of their fighting force fell at Flodden.
    They’d been lucky so far that none of their neighbors had tried to overrun them with a massed attack. Instead, they’d picked off her few remaining fighting men, then sought to gain MacKyrie lands through marriage. To her.
    She wanted none of them.
    Lately, her dream had come three times, always the same. Within it a man, much like the man before her, dark blond hair falling into his eyes, but in her dream, his well-muscled arms had been reaching for her. Donal’s most assuredly were not. They formed a barrier across his impressive chest. Their message was clear: stay back.
    “I’m sorry to disturb ye,” she began.
    “I owe ye an apology,” Donal spoke right over her. “I shouldna put yer man on the ground.”
    “Aye, ye shouldha. I’m glad of it.” Ellie huffed out a breath. Focus on the goal, not on the man’s undeniable attractiveness . At least try . “That’s why I’m here, Donal. I need ye to stay and train our lads.