Seducing a Scottish Bride by Sue-Ellen Welfonder Read Free Book Online Page B

cross swords with Duncan MacKenzie. Any man. But
     the Black Stag can raise an army a hundredfold greater than ours. Inciting his wrath would mean Dare’s end. I’ll not —” he
     broke off, only now grasping his grandfather’s words.
    Staring at him now, at his self-satisfied grin, he was certain his aching head would explode. “
The Black Stag’s daughter?
”
    Valdar nodded. “None other, aye. Lady Gelis is his youngest.”
    Ronan felt the walls close in on him, the floor whip and buckle beneath his feet. “You
are
mad. I’ve ne’er heard a more fool scheme. Or a more trouble-fraught one.”
    “No trouble at all.” Valdar made a dismissive gesture. “Duncan MacKenzie agreed to the match the very day my courier went
     to him.”
    “I find that hard to believe.” Ronan spoke the words through tight lips.
    “Only because there are things, circumstances, you’re unaware of.” His grandfather lifted a hand, pretending to study his
     knuckles. “The Black Stag owes me a long-standing debt. His youngest daughter shall repay it.”
    “By marrying me?”
    Valdar looked up sharply, his expression triumphant. “So you will have her?”
    “I will not.” Ronan folded his arms. The Black Stag’s daughter was the last female he’d even lay a finger on. “Never in a
     thousand years.”
    The triumph faded from Valdar’s eyes. “You’ll shame our house if you refuse.”
    “The shame will be yours, no one else’s.”
    “I
am
Dare. As you will be when my chieftainship passes to you.”
    Ronan sighed. The thought of his fierce and proud grandsire losing face pricked him more than any of the old man’s blustering
     arguments. Crossing to the table, he poured himself more wine, this time tossing down the cup’s contents in one quick swig.
    Turning back to his grandfather, he quelled the urge to grab his travel gear and be gone. Duty and his genuine love for Valdar
     held him in place.
    Not that he intended to wed Duncan MacKenzie’s daughter.
    He did, however, wish to decline as tactfully as possible.
    Frowning, he reached to set down the wine cup when, for one startling moment, the image of a striking, well-made young woman
     flashed across his mind. High-colored, with a wild tumble of curling, red-gold hair spilling around her shoulders and great,
     sparkling eyes, she stared right at him from a narrow, shingled strand. Comely despite her disarray, or perhaps even more
     so because of it, she stood with one hand pressed to her breast as the tide swirled around her ankles, dampening her skirts
     and molding them to her legs.
    Shapely legs
, he noted, before his angle of the unexpected image changed and he saw her from a great distance, almost as if he were looking
     down on her from the clouds.
    Ronan blinked and the startling image was gone.
    Shaken, he cleared his throat. “I think you’d best tell me what kind of long-standing debt the Black Stag owes you,” he said,
     forcing his attention back to his grandfather before he noticed anything amiss. “Why would Duncan MacKenzie entrust his daughter’s
     life to a MacRuari?”
    “Because,” Valdar returned, looking triumphant again, “he has me to thank for his own.”
    “You?” Ronan’s jaw slipped.
    “Aye, that’s the way of it.” Valdar tugged on his beard, his eyes going wistful until he caught himself and brushed a tad
     too energetically at his plaid. “You willna ken, but your father and the Black Stag were braw friends as laddies. Back then,
     I almost believed in Maldred’s most curious legacy, the immortality said to haunt some members of our clan.” He stopped fussing
     at his plaid and looked at Ronan, the over-brightness of his eyes the only sign the story agitated him. “I even thought I
     might be such a one. Blessed or cursed, it didn’t matter. I saw myself as invincible.”
    “Go on.” Ronan leaned a hip against the table edge, folded his arms.
    “Young Duncan was a frequent visitor at Dare. His father was a wise man