Read Online Highlander's Sword by Amanda Forester - Free Book Online Page B

the base of Aila's tower, rigid as the steel of his sword. He took several breaths of cold night, trying to regain his calm so he did not act on his impulse to wring her neck.
    "She'll not be able to give you children if you kill
    her tonight," said Chaumont from behind him, as if reading his thoughts. "And I warrant you'll have a hard time collecting her dowry, too."
       "This is why I wished never to wed. Women are at best an aggravation, at worst a harpy from the bowels o' hell itself."
       "I understand your engagement to Marguerite did not end well."
       "No' end well? That deceiving whore killed my cousin and tried to have me killed, too." MacLaren glowered, pointing to the scar on his cheek.
       "Perhaps it has occurred to you that one bad apple should not keep you from the barrel?"
       "They be no' apples, for their fruit be naught but poison," responded MacLaren, his voice dripping with venom.
       "And your mother?"
       "Was a saint."
       "Naturally."
       "He chose well, my father. I wish I could still seek his counsel."
       "What do you think he would want you to do now?"
       "Take care o' the clan," MacLaren answered without hesitation. "And that's what I mean to do. Come, Chaumont. Let's take the fight to the enemy tonight." MacLaren turned away from Aila's tower and strode toward the lower bailey and the stables.
       "What and miss your wedding night with your bride? Once you've calmed down, you should go talk to the mademoiselle."
       "I've no stomach for cruel, manipulative wenches. I'd rather a sword in my face than a knife at my back."
       Chaumont shrugged and joined MacLaren in rounding up the men. MacLaren's troops were none too happy at the prospect of leaving the cozy fire and the feminine companionship they had found. With so many of the Graham menfolk gone, the lasses were plentiful and looked at the MacLaren warriors with hungry eyes. Separating one from another would be a challenge. His clansmen also balked at leaving the safety of the stone walls and bonfire. Who knew what eerie creatures roamed free this night? Only a great fool would venture forth on this night of all nights.
       MacLaren refused to give a command, rather invited any who would join him to come. Despite their grum blings and misgivings, MacLaren's warriors, to a man, eventually followed him into the wild darkness.
       "If I get caught by a faerie, I expect ye lads to come back for me," said one man.
       "Not me," replied Gilbert. "If I get captured by some beautiful fey creature, let me go. Bid my wife adieu ."
       MacLaren spread out his men to cover as much territory as possible. Graham had extensive lands, so it would be impossible to guard it all. MacLaren made some guesses and concentrated more men toward the north. If McNab was behind the attacks and was man enough to leave his own walls on St. John's Eve, he would not want to travel far before being able to flee to safety. MacLaren considered it unlikely anyone would be out tonight. But if one had the guts, it would be an ideal time to attack without risk of being caught, since only a fool would stray from the safety of the fire on St. John's Eve. A fool like me.
       MacLaren spent the better part of the night lying concealed in a ditch carved by a small burn. Nothing happened. During the long, cold night, his mind had ample time to wander. And wander it did, all over Aila's body. He remembered in exquisite detail how her chemise had clung, the shape of her body, the blazing ringlet hair. The more he tried not to think of her, the more his mind turned traitor, and he imagined her again, this time without the chemise. He tried reminding himself she had publicly humiliated him and would no doubt use her beauty to betray him again and again. It was a pointless exercise. His mind would not be tamed, and soon he decided he was a simpleton to be lying outside in the dirt when he could be lying with her, gaining a much more