My Highland Love: Highland Lords Series by Tarah Scott Read Free Book Online

her
skirt. "Perhaps I need a dip in the loch."
    "Rather cold."
    "True, but it would be better than this milk.
It's getting late and I doubt I'll return to Brahan Seer
tonight."
    "Aye," Marcus said. "You will return to
Brahan Seer tonight."
    Her head snapped in his direction as Erin
whirled. "Marcus, what is amiss?"
    Marcus looked at Elise. "I am here to take
Elise home."
    "Take her home?" Erin echoed.
    "Aye. It's late, and Cameron was growing
concerned." Marcus wondered at his rapidly increasing ability to
lie with such ease.
    "Of course." Erin faced Elise and bowed.
"Thank you for coming. I know my father was pleased to see
you."
    He stepped back, and Elise turned a
calculating eye on Marcus. His body tensed under her scrutiny.
    "I am not going anywhere."
    "Nay?" he asked, quelling the tightening of
his groin at the cool note of confidence.
    "My visit here is not finished."
    "Nay?" he repeated.
    She glanced at the pail laying near her feet
and Marcus prepared for a quick retreat.
    "No," she answered, and he relaxed upon
seeing her turn her attention, albeit reluctantly, from the pail.
"It's late and I have no horse," she said. "The trip home on foot
after dark is dangerous."
    "Aye," Marcus agreed.
    Her brow knit in confusion, then her eyes
widened. "I will not make another trip with you on your mount."
    The statement was made with such force that
Marcus nearly laughed.
    "I will lend you a mare," Erin offered.
    Marcus regarded her and lifted a brow in
question.
    "I promised Michael dinner."
    "Elise," Erin put in, "my father will
understand."
    She kept her gaze on Marcus. "You may leave.
I will find my way home."
    His heart beat wildly at the open defiance
expressed with such aplomb. He stepped forward and Erin moved to
intervene.
    "Laird." The young man's voice hit like ice
water and Marcus looked at him. "She doesn't know our ways," Erin
said.
    Marcus relaxed and shifted his gaze to her.
"If it pleases her to stay, we shall. But only for dinner."
    She gave a snort, then strode past them and
out the door.
     
    As the evening wore on, Marcus watched Elise
entice them into becoming willing participants in the preparation
of the meal.
    "You three will not sit idle while I do all
the work," she said.
    "Lass," Michael protested, "what would poor
men such as ourselves know of preparing food?"
    "Enough, I'm sure." She thrust the handle of
a knife into his hand.
    An instant later, she'd replaced the copy of
the Sunday Times sitting on the table beside him with an
onion. Michael looked at her as if she were mad but, in the end,
peeled and sliced the onion, his lip twitching with barely
suppressed amusement.
    "Erin." Elise placed a bowl of flour, sugar,
and cream of tartar in his hands. "You stir the biscuits. Marcus,"
she said, surprising him, "see to the grouse on the fire."
    Marcus obeyed, but turned a moment later when
she cried, "Erin!" and saw Erin had spilled flour from the bowl
onto the table.
    Erin looked to his father.
    "Do not look at me, lad. 'Tis not my fault
you can't stir flour without dumping it all over yourself."
    Elise grasped Erin's hand, trying to show him
how to gentle his touch. Marcus jolted at seeing her slender
fingers covering the young man's large hand. Damn it, surely the
boy posed no threat? Marcus knew he'd lost his mind. Bloody
hell, he was jealous.
    "Ohh," she said in frustration as more flour
went over the side of the bowl.
    Marcus laughed at the sheepish look on Erin's
face. She snatched up the bowl and Michael joined in when she
muttered incoherently and strode to the stove to finish the
biscuits.
    "So, tell me, Marcus," Michael said through
his laughter. "How was London?"
    "The same as always."
    "And Kiernan?"
    At the mention of his son's name, Marcus
recalled his surprise at how much the boy had grown in the last
year. At only eighteen, he towered over most Englishmen. Referred
to as the dark giant, he deserved the nickname. Still, Marcus never
ceased to marvel at the fact that one noticed his