MacDougall 01 - Laiden's Daughter by Suzan Tisdale Read Free Book Online

look at his men that warned them not to laugh as he did his best to stifle another chuckle.
    Rather gently he put her down and bade her stand still while he went to his pack and drew out a belt. She teetered and struggled not to keel over.   Before she realized it, Rowan stood next to her and offered his hands for support so that she would not fall.   She was in the process of thanking him when she caught sight of the belt in Duncan’s hands.   Duncan could see the fear rising up in her as she lowered her head and began to shrink away.
    “Tis only to hold the trews up lass, nothing more.” He spoke softly and was sorry that he had frightened her.   He carefully drew the belt around her small waist and cinched it as taut as he could. ‘Twasn’t perfect and the trews did slip a bit, but at least it kept them from falling off completely.   Quietly she thanked him as he and Rowan led her back to the fire.
    After settling her in and covering her with plaids, they shared their evening meal with her.   She was famished but her stomach felt uneasy and she was able to eat only a little.   The oatcakes were nearly as chewy as the dried beef, but she was very grateful to have something in her stomach.  
      The exhaustion was overwhelming, and her eyelids grew heavier.   Unable to fight the weariness any longer, she lay down upon the plaid.   With no strength left to cover her own tired and cold body, she kept still as Duncan pulled the plaids over her shoulders. His lips curved into a warm smile as he tucked the blankets under her chin.   “Are ya warm lass?” She could hear the genuine concern in his voice and it surprised her.   Not since her mother and Moirra had passed had anyone shown her any kind of concern, save for Baltair who had helped her escape.   She was used to harsh words and criticisms, not kind gestures.   She nodded her head and closed her eyes.
    Her body wanted desperately to sleep but her mind would not surrender to it. Soft quiet tears came again. She could do nothing to stop them any more than the memories that brought them.   She did not want the men to think her weak or foolish so she pulled the plaid over her head to cry unnoticed.
    She tried to unfurl her fingers to wipe away the tears, but they seemed frozen now after riding for Heaven-only-knew how many days with a death grip upon the reins of her mare.   The cuts in her back stung, her face and eyes throbbed obstinately.    She tried to taking in a deep breath, but the action caused pain to shoot through her ribs and down her spine.  
    She longed for her mum, for Moirra and for a quiet, simple life.   She wanted a home of her own where she would always be and feel safe.   Why could she not be more like her mum, strong and beautiful? Perhaps if she had been either of those things her life would have been so different.
    Shivering, she thought back to the day the brothers had told her she would be going to work in Castle Firth.   They had not allowed her to take anything with her save for the clothes on her back and the blanket her mother had made for her when she was born.   Had she not been so relieved to leave her brothers, she would have protested more adamantly about taking more of her mother’s things with her. The blanket had been the only thing from her childhood she had left to remind of her mother. Now it was gone forever, tucked under the pallet at Castle Firth.
    Aishlinn had learned a few short days after arriving at Firth that her brothers had traded her to work there. They had traded her for two sheep.   That was all she had been worth to them.   The thought pricked at her heart now, though she should not have been surprised by it. They had never been fond of her to begin with.   Still, it stung at her pride to think she was of so little value to them. Would anyone ever think her worth more than two sheep?  
    Pulling the plaid tighter, she tried to will her mind to stop wandering.   What made her think she had