The Maclean Groom by Kathleen Harrington Read Free Book Online

burn her with hot pokers.
    He could hang her from the rafters by her thumbs.
    He could throw her into the moat, bound hand and foot!
    No matter what hellish torment his lurid mind dreamed up, she’d never tell him she was the maiden he sought to despoil with his lecherous, debauched, lascivious MacLean hands.
    Never .
    Rory looked down at the dirty-faced lassie, trying so hard to act brave. The sprinkle of freckles across her nose andcheekbones could barely be discerned beneath the layer of soot. ’Twas all he could do to keep from smiling at her impudence.
    â€œWhat’s your name, lad?” he growled.
    â€œJoey Macdonald.”
    â€œWho are your parents, Joey?”
    Lady Joanna threw back her shoulders, and her dark blue eyes glistened with open defiance. “I don’t have any parents. Nor grandparents, neither.”
    â€œYou’re an orphan, then?”
    â€œThat’s what they usually call a child with no parents,” she answered cheekily.
    In spite of the brazen demeanor, Rory sensed her pain at the questions. “Who were your parents, laddie?” he asked in a milder tone.
    â€œMy da died on the Field of the Moss at Stirling fighting the old king. Mama died two years ago.”
    â€œSo your father was a traitor.”
    The lass fisted her hands. “My da was a hero,” she declared proudly. “He killed eight men with his claymore before being cut down by cannon fire from the hills above.”
    If the man hadn’t died in the battle, he’d have been hanged with the rest of the rebels, but Rory didn’t bother to point that out to his bride-to-be.
    Joanna must have lost her father when she was only eight or so. The tattered shirt, several sizes too big for her, hung on her small frame. The frayed red and blue plaid she wore could have served a full-grown man. Even her worn-out shoes were overlarge.
    Her tenacious pride touched something inside Rory. A memory of his own childhood flashed before him. He’d been fostered in the home of a Stewart ally at the age of eight. In his loneliness, he’d felt the need to prove himself to the other lads by acting as impertinent as Joanna. Gideon Cameron’s patience must have been tested to the hilt.
    â€œI’ve considered turning you over to Fearchar for training as a soldier.” He paused to watch Joanna swallow backher dismay, then continued with a smile. “However instructive my kinsman’s rigorous discipline might be, though, I’m not sure you’ve the makings of a warrior.”
    At that moment, Jock Kean appeared in the open doorway. “You sent for me, laird?”
    Rory nodded and motioned for the man to enter, then turned back to Joanna. “Besides your household duties, lad, I’m going to have you work in the stables under the direct supervision of the stable master. In the afternoons you’ll take orders from Jock, and your first duty today will be mucking out the stables.”
    Jock stepped forward and tugged off his coarse wool cap, revealing his smooth, hairless pate. His lively gaze darted to Joanna in reassurance and then back to Rory. “I’ll take care of the laddie, then,” he said, his round face splitting into a jaunty smile. “I’ll see that he’s kept busy and stays out of trouble.”
    Rory folded his arms and waited for the Sassenach heiress to confess her bloody secret.
    Instead, Joanna edged closer to the cheerful, baldheaded gnome, then looked at Rory with huge blue eyes. “I’ll do just as Jock says, laird,” she promised. “I can handle the mucking—I know I can. And I’m real good with horses. You’ll see.”
    He scowled at her. “What are you waiting for, then?” he snapped. “Get out to the stables and get busy.”
    She bowed low from the waist. “Very well, milord,” she answered with a hint of mockery in her voice. “Thank you, milord.”
    All Rory