Highlander's Sword by Amanda Forester Read Free Book Online Page A

extensive lands. Awkward silence threatened to engulf them again, and MacLaren recognized it was his turn to say something.
       "'Tis a highly defensible position," he stated, showing his appreciation for the castle's design.
       "Pardon?"
       "Dundaff. 'Tis well built. Good visibility. Ye winna be able to take her by surprise."
       "Oh… aye," said Aila, looking a bit confused.
       "So…" He voiced the first question that came to mind. "Ye were meant for the Church?"
       "I was destined for the Church from an early age. My mother's dream was for me to be an abbess. But wi' her poor health, I was needed here. I was waiting until my brother took a wife who would act as chat elaine of Dundaff in my stead, but then…" She turned toward the waning sun now setting to her left. "But then ye came." She turned to him with a tentative smile, looked down the length of him, blushed, and turned back to the battlements.
       MacLaren noted her appraisal of his person with some interest and wondered if he had passed inspec tion. Uncommonly conscious of his appearance, he was glad to be clean shaven and freshly bathed. At Chaumont's insistence, he had abandoned his Highlander's garb in favor of the attire he was accustomed to wearing while in France. Instead of his kilt, he wore snug-fitting russet-colored breeches tucked into black leather boots. Over a linen tunic, he wore a formfitting surcoat of dark green that hung to mid-thigh.
       The coat had cost him a considerable sum and was a fine piece of work, embroidered with gold thread along the edges and held together with gold buttons down the front. He recalled, with some repul sion, he had commissioned the coat to wear to the French court, in large extent to impress the Countess Marguerite. Both the countess and Laird Graham's daughter had been born into higher rank and privilege than he, and he wondered if Aila also thought herself beyond his touch.
       "Ye seemed reluctant to wed this morn," MacLaren said, edging closer to his suspicions about her pride.
       "I was surprised." Aila gazed over the green valley below. "I have always been destined for St. Margaret's." She turned to him. "Have ye ever had yer life change in a moment? And everything ye thought ye knew was gone, altered forever?"
       "Aye, I have experienced something o' the like." Indeed, his whole world had been shattered with the blink of a traitorous eye. Perhaps her hesitation was not a rejection of him, but rather shock and surprise. He could understand that.
       MacLaren was trapped once again by a pair of green eyes. He moved closer to her, keeping his eyes on hers. He reached out and softly stroked the side of her face. Her eyes widened, and her breathing increased with the quick rise and fall of her chest underneath her thin chemise. Bedding her was his duty. He was certain he would be diligent with his responsibilities.
       Aila's eyes broke from his and fluttered around, as if looking for purchase, before landing on the sleeve of his surcoat. "Ye've changed yer clothes since this morn."
       "Aye," said MacLaren, his arm dropping by his side, his suspicions raised once more. He wondered if his current attire was more to her liking. He did not wish to elevate false expectations in her. Best to set her straight now. He did not wish to deal with a fractious wife.
       "May I ask why ye made an offer for me to my father?" Aila's voice was soft, and MacLaren noted she once again was chewing on her lip.
       "Graham proposed the alliance to me. I accepted."
       "Oh."
       "When we return to Creag an Turic, I rarely have
    occasion to wear such as this." MacLaren watched for Aila's response.
       "Creag an Turic?"
       "My home… and yers now, too. 'Tis no' so grand as Dundaff." MacLaren was disappointed at the look of panic on Aila's face.
       "But I canna go wi' ye. I must stay at Dundaff. I canna leave my mother."
       MacLaren's jaw set, and he fell back