Read Online Beneath a Dark Highland Sky: Book #3 by Kelly Jameson - Free Book Online Page A

apologies, my lady,” she said, but her deep green eyes were not sorry, they were angry. Malcolm had the distinct feeling that had she realized he was the laird when they’d met outside, he would’ve had an arrow in his hide. He had not been wrong that his presence here would be resented. What had he heard once? That Lowlanders were bad enough but their wives and women were wild devils, even fighting in battles themselves. He could envision the maid fighting in a battle but not the delicate, pale, blonde woman standing before him.
                  The Lady Douglas withdrew her hand from Malcolm’s, making a fist and shaking it at the maid. “Clumsy chit! Clean that up at once, ye half-witted, flea-bitten hag, and bring another!” She turned calmly to Malcolm. “A sorrowful waste of whisky. I am Sorcha Douglas. Come and sit by the fire and make yerselves warm while my addle-brained maid brings ye another drink.”
                  Malcolm didn’t like the way she chastised the spirited maid. In that moment, all his hopes about the character of Sorcha Douglas were dashed. Though he could not find fault with her running of the keep, the blonde beauty was obviously cold and compassionless.
    He and Nathair seated themselves by the fire, Lady Douglas between them, while the other men sat at tables or filled benches and awaited the meal and banqueting to come as introductions were made.
                  “This is Nathair, my war advisor and husband to my sister Andreana.”
    She nodded. “I trust yer journey was uneventful? Sometimes the burn swells and it can be difficult to then go roundabout those hills and find a shallow enough stretch for fording. It can take ye miles out of yer way. They call it the Burn of Black Sorrow. Ye ha’e to be vera careful when the mists come and the waters swell nae to be caught in the valley.”
                  “’Twas uneventful but extremely soggy going,” Nathair answered.
    “Yea, well, that is the Lowlands,” she said. “Soggy.”
    “’Tis a well-kept keep, strategically placed with a defensive view,” Malcolm said.
    “I’ve heard the whisky is vera fine,” Nathair added. “I heard ‘tis so warm it can turn a man’s insides to fire. One of the few enjoyable things about the cold and soggy Lowlands.”
                  “Yea, the whisky is strong and fortifying. But ye ha’e been misinformed about the Lowlands. There is much to love here, bogs and marshes aside. And the Highlands, are they nae a place of wild wind and rain, bogs and boars and wolves?”
    Nathair opened his mouth to answer but she cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand. “I grow bored talking of mud and weather. As for the fortalice, it was built vera high so watchmen could see warning beacons lit on our tower top, this in case of Border raiders.”
    Nathair quirked a blonde brow as the maid with the fiery chestnut hair returned with goblets of whisky, but he kept silent, looking bored himself.
    “Tell me, Sorcha, were the beacons e’er lit when the English invaded?” Malcolm asked. “Or were they kept dark? ’Tis no secret the Black Douglas aided the Sassenach as they sought Scotland for an English king. Tell me, do ye still aid the Sassenach, or do they still aid ye, as they did at Arkinholm?”
                  The hall grew quiet as all awaited her answer to Malcolm’s bold question.
                  “’Tis nae unusual for a clan to work with the English when it suits them and ‘tis necessary,” the maid answered fiercely. “And is it nae true Maclean men ha’e on occasion been hired to fight in Ireland at the behest of the English as members of the Galloglass ?”             
    Murmurs swept the hall. Malcolm’s amber eyes grew steely and his jaw tightened. “Aye, ‘tis true. And they fought valiantly.”
                  “Then ye ken alliances are nae always simple