Read Online Her Highland Rogue: A Wild Highland Guardian Novel by Violetta Rand - Free Book Online

Norman-made oak and ironbound strong chests, filled with manuscripts and clan documents, Laird MacRae looked more like a king. Four carved armchairs were stationed near his desk, and Errol claimed the one farthest from Broc. Sunlight filtered in through the single rectangular window set high in the stone wall. And a hearty fire roared in the hearth across the way.
    “It seems my son has finally returned.” Laird MacRae gazed at Cameron.
    “Aye,” the secretary agreed, claiming his usual spot, standing behind the laird’s left shoulder.
    “I apologize for the delay,” Errol said. “I required some time to comfort the lass.”
    “Is Aileana well?” Laird MacRae asked.
    “As well as can be expected.” Errol looked to Broc, who appeared unaffected by his overindulgence in spirits, and unrepentant.
    “Are you prepared to tell me what happened last night?” His father gazed at him.
    Errol held his blue stare. “What has Broc told you?”
    “Nothing.” The laird waved his hands. “As my son you have the right to speak first.”
    “I would request a moment alone with my friend.”
    “Nay,” the laird said. “Enough time has passed. And after your unscrupulous behavior last night, I want to hear whatever the two of you have to say in your own defense.”
    Errol cleared his throat. “I am unsure Broc is prepared to share the truth, much less admit to his wrongdoings.” Errol intensified his focus on his friend. “Some words can never be forgotten.”
    Broc’s mouth opened, but then snapped shut as if he’d thought better of saying anything.
    “Your captain has expressed interest in marrying Aileana,” Errol started.
    The laird’s expression remained unchanged as he eyed Broc. “Is this true?”
    “Aye.”
    “I had hoped for such a union someday. The lass has earned a special place in my heart. She’s faced a hard start—the spite of many of the women, superstitious fools that they are. And let us not forget the rumors of her origins. How one head of red curls could earn the vexation of half a clan, I know not.”
    Errol rubbed his chin anxiously. His father should know the answer. “None of the women in our bloodline have red hair.”
    “Yes, yes,” Laird MacRae said dismissively. “The MacDonalds are known to father such daughters. Do you think I don’t hear the whispers at the high table? Nonsense, all of it. And if ye ask the lass, she will tell you how often I’ve warned the women to stop cursing her.”
    “And that obedience lasts as long as yer within earshot,” Errol commented, his ire rising.
    “She’s a spirited girl,” Broc said. “With some patience and a little discipline, she’ll come to heel.”
    Errol snorted. “Like a dog.”
    His father’s head jerked in his direction. “You oppose this match?”
    Errol sucked in a breath, knowing the consequences if he spoke truthfully. Was the lass worth losing a lifelong friend over? Would Broc hate him hereinafter? And in addition to a lost friendship, the last thing Errol wanted was to gain an enemy within the ranks of the men he’d one day lead. But that kiss at the loch had sealed his fate. Though she might not be meant for him, Errol knew a man worthy of her heart was somewhere close by. He gazed at Broc again, hoping to catch a hint of humility. But none existed. The warrior puffed his chest out and opened and closed his fists. Arrogance served no one. And if he judged correctly, Broc only wanted Aileana because she’d rejected him. He’d take her to wife to prove a point, not out of love or admiration for the girl’s indomitable spirit.
    If given the chance, Broc would break that spirit.
    Errol leaned forward in his chair. “Aye, father. I oppose it.”
    Even the usually silent Cameron gasped with surprise.
    “On what grounds?” his father demanded.
    “The lass doesna wish to couple with Broc.”
    Laird MacRae chuckled. “If we let our women choose their husbands, this keep would be short of skirts.”
    Broc