The Clan MacDougall Series by Suzan Tisdale Read Free Book Online Page A

evening air instantly brought chill bumps to her bare skin. She wished she could move more quickly, but her aching bones and unrelenting shivers made moving at anything other than a snail’s pace nearly impossible.
    She donned the linen tunic, its hem landing just past her knees. She knew she looked ridiculous. The course linen scratched at the welts and cuts on her back but at least it was dry clothing. The trews were just as enormous! The legs were far too long even after rolling them up a few times. She imagined she could have fit both her legs into just one of the legs of the trews. And they would not stay put! Frustrated she huffed and grabbed the waist of the trews with both hands. With the leggings in one hand she stepped from behind the tree, kicking her wet clothing with her bare toes.
    The laugh escaped Duncan’s mouth before he had a chance to stifle it. “Ya’ve been swallowed whole by a beast made of cloth!”
    Honorable men, my foot! Aishlinn thought to herself. An honorable man would not laugh at a young woman in distress! Had she not been so tired and cold and had not every inch of her body hurt beyond measure she most assuredly would have kicked him in his knee.
    Still laughing he apologized for he knew he had embarrassed her but he could not help it. He carried her back to the fire and shot a 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 ye 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 take 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