The Parchment Scroll by C. A. Szarek Read Free Book Online Page A

morrow, ye’ll take the lass ta Dunvegan.”
    “Nay. Juliette is my prisoner,” Hugh growled.
    She glared and struggled to her feet. Mab faced her nephew, cane poised like a weapon. “Nay. Doona’ be daft, lad. I will no’ let ye start another war wit’ Clan MacLeod. We’ve peace. We’re goin’ ta keep it tha’ way.”
    He glowered from his seat next to the fireplace. “There’s no harm in a little ransom. I willna defile or wed Juliette as was done in years past.”
    Jules snorted. “Damn straight you won’t.” But she had to swallow a gulp. He’d been completely serious.
    She’d read that rape and forced marriages were common—and accepted by society when a woman was stolen for ransom. Clan law was paramount. Consequences for non-payment were high—and final. Not even the kings had really bossed Highlanders around.
    Neither MacDonald even spared her a glance. Their eyes—and glares—were deadlocked on each other.
    “I am yer laird.”
    “And I wiped yer arse.”
    Jules laughed, she couldn’t help it. “Sorry,” she muttered when Hugh turned his scowl in her direction. However, she’d inadvertently broken the tension.
    Mab turned in her direction and smiled. “I like this lass.” She patted her shoulder.
    She flashed a smile for the old lady. “Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself.”
    Hugh’s aunt’s face crinkled as she returned Jules’ grin.
    He harrumphed and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest. Shame he’d found a new shirt. Barbarian or not, he was nice to look at.
    “Did ye think ta ask tha lass wha’ she wants?” Mab asked.
    “’Tis no’ my concern. She’s a captive.”
    Jules rolled her eyes. “What if I run away?”
    “Ye’ll no’ last a day ou’ there on yer own, let alone find yer way ta the MacLeods.” He pitched his big body forward, dark eyes daring her.
    “Try me.” She glared.
    Hugh chuckled and shook his head. “I’m keepin’ her.”
    “Ye. Are. No’.” Mab punctuated each word of her shout with ramming her cane to the stone floor with a thud.
    “Doona’ try me, old woman. I am yer laird.” His tone was hard, and Hugh narrowed his eyes at his aunt.
    Jules fidgeted and sat straighter on the huge bed. Mab had wrapped her in a MacDonald tartan with the promise of clothing when they were done speaking.
    Her heart skipped and she sucked in a breath. For some reason, she was nervous, but not really afraid.
    “I am yer blood kin. Doona’ be daft. Think on it, Hugh. Peace with the MacLeods has been long awaited. Yer da did tha’ righ’, if nothin’ else. Doona’ risk yer clan. Yer life. For one lass.”
    Should I be insulted?
    Mab shot her a glance, as if she’d read her mind. “I mean no insult, lass. My nephew is stubborn, but he’s a good laird. He’ll do the righ’ thing. Ye arena’ captive. Worry no’.”
    “She is a captive.” Despite his words, Hugh’s voice lost some steam and his big shoulders loosened.
    Jules could see he realized his aunt was right, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. She was torn between chiding him and admiring his resolve. He certainly hadn’t let go of the tough guy routine.
    Mab scoffed and shook her head. She met Jules’ eyes. “Come, lass, we’ll get ye somethin’ ta wear and food in yer belly.”
    “She stays here wit’ me,” Hugh barked.
    Jules rolled her eyes.
    He’s totally pouting now.
    His aunt opened her mouth to speak, but Jules beat the old lady to it.
    “Fine, my laird. As long as you promise to take me to Claire in the morning. I’ll even promise not to run away.” Maybe if she threw in his title and made him think she respected him, he’d agree.
    “Ye wouldna get far.” That dark gaze raked her face and Jules’ stomach flipped.
    She chided herself not to wiggle on the bed or squeeze her thighs tight as she was inclined. There wasn’t anything remotely sexual about the way he was looking at her, yet her body tingled. All over. Jules wanted to roll her