Read Online Highland Warrior by Hannah Howell - Free Book Online Page B

both tend the lad, we can both have time to rest, aye?”
    “Where did ye get those scars?”
    “Da,” Ewan protested, but his father ignored him.
    Fiona calmly finished the piece of honey-coated bread she had been eating and met Sir Fingal’s gaze directly. “A mon felt my face needed some improvement.”
    “What do ye mean by that, ye daft wench?”
    “I wouldnae call her a wench if I was ye, Da,” murmured Gregor.
    Ewan grabbed Fiona’s hand when she reached for the knife used to cut the cheese. The feel of her small hand in his sent the heat of desire straight to his loins, but Ewan struggled to ignore the feeling. He was interested in her answer to his father’s question.
    “Explain,” Ewan said and almost smiled at the way her violet eyes nearly sparked with annoyance.
    “A mon sought my hand in marriage,” she replied, fighting to ignore how strangely bereft she felt when he released her hand. “I refused him. Although I did so most kindly, he took offense. He hunts me, and each time he has caught me, he marks me. These were the first.” She lightly touched the scar on her right cheek. “He has caught me three other times. He says he intends to make me unmarriagable, to force me to accept him if only because none other will have me.”
    “Who?”
    “That can be of no interest to ye.”
    Ewan decided not to argue that just yet. “Then why were ye out riding alone?”
    “Constant confinement, e’en if ’tis for one’s own safety, can make a person act foolishly.”
    He nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. The fact that he could never go anywhere alone because they were surrounded by enemies often made him feel the same. One did not need high walls to feel confined. Ewan also wondered if one reason she was being such a complacent hostage was because she had come to her senses and realized the danger she had put herself in. She was now safely behind high walls again and well guarded.
    “I think ye must tell me who this enemy is,” he said, watching her closely. “He could follow ye here.”
    “Since I dinnae ken where here is, I dinnae think he will be able to find me.”
    “He trails ye, hunts ye. It isnae impossible for him to trail ye to our gates.”
    Fiona calmly finished her porridge as she thought over the matter. Only her family knew about her troubles with Menzies. Even if Ewan could find a kinsman of Menzies to speak to, she doubted many of Ranald’s clan would know what he was doing to her or would admit it if they did. Since Menzies had caught her at times when she had thought herself safe, it was indeed possible that he could find her at Scarglas. The MacFingals did not need another trouble kicking at their gates. It would also be to her advantage to tell Ewan, for he would guard her against that threat. She just wished he would not be doing so only to protect her value as a hostage, but hastily shook aside the odd pang that knowledge caused her.
    “His name is Sir Ranald Menzies,” she finally said. “He rides with six men.” She almost smiled when Ewan grunted in reply, for he reminded her very strongly of her brothers for a moment.
    “So, this fool thinks to make ye worthless as a bride for any other,” said Fingal, then scowled at her. “Has he bedded ye then?”
    “Da!” Ewan and Gregor protested together.
    “What!? Tis a reasonable question. Tis a sure way to make her unweddable to another. Mon wants his wife untouched. Ye should have a virgin for a bride, Ewan.”
    “She isnae my bride,” Ewan nearly shouted, “but a hostage for ransom.”
    It was foolish to be hurt by his adamant refusal of her as a bride, Fiona thought. He was simply telling the truth. She had not come to Scarglas as a bride, but as a hostage. Even so, she mused, he did not have to be so angered, even appalled, by the suggestion.
    She only half listened as Ewan and his father argued. As she finished her porridge and reached for an apple, she looked around the great hall. Many of the