Isle of Mull 03 - To Love a Warrior by Lily Baldwin Read Free Book Online Page B

intent on her husband, Cormac, who still lingered on the docks. Nellore joined the merriment, but as they strode along, she was ever aware of Garik behind her. Despite how she longed to, she dared not look back for fear the feeling he had stirred within her might be revealed in her eyes. She blushed again as her hand touched her waist. It still burned from the pressure of his hand.
    *
    As Garik walked toward the village with Logan, they were joined by their laird. Five years had gone by and he could see the passing of time etched across Ronan’s face. His stride had slowed somewhat, but Garik was pleased to note that his wits were as sharp as ever. In that moment, his mind drifted home to the Orkney Islands and he wondered after the well-being of his own grandfather, Aidan. He hoped Aidan and the rest of his family fared as well. Why he had not gone home to the Orkney Islands when the Bruce gave them leave, he could not say for sure, only that somehow he had felt compelled to Mull. And then his eyes settled once more on the tall, black-haired lass walking in front of him.
    He had not been prepared for Nellore. The last time he saw her, she had been a child, but she was a child no longer. She had fulfilled every promise of womanhood and then some. She walked beside her father, her head barely below his. On her other side, walked her mother, Brenna, who was a beautiful woman with her shoulder length red curls, but Nellore soared above her in height. From behind, it gave the impression that Nellore was the mother and Brenna the daughter.
    His eyes traveled from her broad shoulders to her firm waist, the waist his hand had been unable to resist touching. His eyes dropped lower, following the gentle curve of her hips, which swayed with captivating power and grace. Never, in all his travels, had he seen a woman like her. She transcended beauty. She was the embodiment of splendor. Everything about her, from her hair to her eyes to her strong hands, challenged him, enticed him. He had known she would grow into a captivating woman, but her allure defied all reason.
    He half-listened to Ronan as he spoke of new trouble with the MacLeans. Apparently, their unruly neighbors to the south continued to cross their border bent on thievery and destruction, although it would seem they had grown bolder. Their typical harassment of the cottars on the outskirts of Gribun had moved inland. Last month, Ronan reported they had even broken into the stores near the Ledaig House, which Ronan had had to explain was a newly constructed, long, thatched hall near the stores they had built especially for weddings and other festivities.
    “They’ve not dared tinker with our stores for decades,” Ronan said. “The MacLean is old and bedridden. I believe his sons vie for power. The eldest, Balfour, has some sense, but he is as greedy as any MacLean. The younger brothers are as dumb as fence posts and wicked in spirit. I’m sorry, lads,” Ronan said. “Ye’ve been given a short leave from war only to come home to more conflict.”
    “Do not fash yourself, grandfather,” Logan said. “We wouldn’t want to return to the Bruce lazy and fat, would we?”
    “We will help you set things right before we are gone,” Garik promised.
    “’Tis glad I am ye’re home but there is much to be done,” Ronan said. “The summer will go swiftly by.”
    Garik’s gaze once more followed the sway of Nellore’s hips. “Aye,” he murmured, “there is much to be done.”

Chapter 6
    Nellore’s hut sat in exquisite isolation, east of the village, beyond rolling moorland, at the foot of a steep hill. To the north they could see the firth of Lorn. When a storm swept through, the waves would crash against the rock-strewn shore. The east side of the land ran alongside a narrow but swift river that wound into a nearby forest. Wild flowers covered the slopes and fields. Many believed it was the finest stretch of earth on Mull. When Duncan was away at war, the land was