Highland Song by Tanya Anne Crosby Read Free Book Online Page A

experiencing an instant of fear at the thought of her disappearing yet again. “Wait!”
    In truth, he had brought more than plenty, which only made him wonder that he must have expected—or even hoped—to encounter the lass again. And that precisely was at the heart of his suddenly sour mood, because for the first time in his life he craved something he, in truth, had never hoped to have.
    Something about the girl made him yearn for things he could not name.
    She stopped and peered over her shoulder, her green eyes full of uncertainty.
    Gavin nodded, lifting the sack between them. “Indeed, I do have plenty,” he assured. “Come back. Ye’re right. I’m an ungrateful arse and ye ha’e my deepest thanks.”
    Still, she hesitated.
    “ I’m sorry,” he said. “Dinna go, lass.” He lifted up the sack higher, offering it to her. “I have bread and cheese and oatcakes.”
    “ Oatcakes?” The tiniest smile returned to her lips and she hurried back. Gavin felt something like sparrows take flight in his breast.
    “ What’s your name, lass?” he asked as he watched her approach, his skin tingling strangely at the sight of her lovely legs hurrying toward him.
    “ My friends call me Cat,” she said, and Gavin arched a brow.
     
     
     
    Piers de Montgomerie stood in front of his barn, scratching his head as he contemplated the missing thatch. The cart certainly appeared as though it had once been filled with bundles of straw, but it was sitting exactly where they had left it, empty but for a few short sprigs.
    They had been preparing to put a new roof on the little church his wife had constructed for her brother, but the material was gone now. Meggie was bound to believe it was simply another delay, but it wasn’t. And yet building a church for her youngest brother to spout sermons that Piers didn’t want to hear, admittedly, was far less of a priority, than say, rebuilding a barn, or repairing the damned fence her brothers had destroyed during the course of their feud.
    And then, of course, Gavin hardly seemed interested in sermons of late. Piers couldn’t recall the last time the lad had even visited. He’d taken to brooding, and kept mostly to himself now.
    “ It was all right here,” Baldwin swore. “And then it was gone. I swear it, Lyon!”
    Piers shook his head—not entirely because of the self-evident statement. He had hoped his long time friend would eventually stop using that silly epitaph. He’d been given the name by his men after a particularly bloody battle when they’d said he’d appeared to them coming off the battlefield, with his long, gilt mane of hair and bloodied face, like a lion fresh after its kill. It wasn’t an honor he was particularly proud of—especially now that all he aspired to be was a husband and farmer. He had grown quite accustomed to a quiet life and had no stomach for fighting any longer.
    Baldwin tilted him a look. “If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if the Brodies were back to their thievin’.”
    Again Piers shook his head. “Meghan would have their arses. They might not fear any reprisal from me, but they wouldn’t cross their sister for any booty.”
    Baldwin chuckled at that, knowing it for truth. Even Piers cowered in the face of his wife’s temper, for Meghan had a tongue far sharper than most blades and a wit twice as keen. “What now?” he asked.
    Piers blew out a sigh, wondering the same.
    In truth, he had never expected to find himself a laird and he was learning as he went how to deal with these canny Scots. He had come to truly admire them for they fought their battles by some strange code of honor that appealed to him. They stole your goat; you stole their sheep; and so on and so on—all of it done openly, as though thieving your good neighbor were the most natural and honorable thing to do. However, never accuse one without proof, he’d learned, for they defended kith and kin unto their dying breath. But the Brodie brothers had already