Read Online MacKinnon’s Rangers 03.5 - Upon A Winter's Night by Pamela Clare - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pamela Clare
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of MacKinnon’s Rangers.
He offered Iain his hand, struggling to find the right words. "It was an honor to be your commanding officer. I thank you for your service, however reluctant it might have been. You fought with uncommon valor."
"I cannae forgi ’ nor forget what you did to me and my brothers, nor the wrongs you’ve done to Annie, Amalie, and Sarah," Iain said, taking his hand in a firm grasp, "but you are not wi’out honor. Let the enmity between us end here and now."
At those words, the weight on William’s shoulders grew lighter.
Morgan held out his hand. "You balanced the scales atween us when you helped me escape the hangman’s noose and secured my pardon. For my part, I forgi’e you."
"Of the three of you, I trusted you the most." William shook Morgan’s hand, then turned to Connor. "Tell Sarah that I…love her. Take care of her."
"I promise you she will be safe and want for naugh ’ so long as there is life in my body." Connor clasped his hand, and they shook. "There have been days when I’ve cursed you. I once vowed to kill you. But many’s the time you came unexpectedly to our aid — such as today. It is those times I will remember."
Shivering with fever, William released Connor’s hand. "Farewell."
He sank back into his chair, unable to stand any longer.
"May God’s blessings go wi ’ you," Connor said.
The brothers turned as one and walked out the door.
Iain paused in the doorway, looked back at him, and grinned. "Merry Christmas, Your Immensity."
As William watched them disappear down the hallway, he knew he would never see their like again.
CHAPTER 7
Sarah sat by the fire upstairs nursing little William. Down below, Annie and Amalie were busy preparing the Christmas Eve feast, the house filled with delicious scents — roasted turkey, freshly baked bread, cinnamon from pies. They’d spent most of the day cooking and baking, while Killy and Joseph had carried wood, fetched water for them, and tended to the outside chores.
All the gifts were made. The baking was done. Wood was cut and piled high. Christmas was upon them.
But the men were not yet home.
Sarah’s gaze was drawn once again to the window. Outside, heavy snow still fell, clouds concealing the late afternoon sunlight. Connor and his brothers would not make it home through this storm. Nor would she want them to try. If they should leave Albany and find themselves benighted in the forest or lose their way...
She looked down at her baby boy’s sweet face. His eyes were now closed, his tiny hands curved into little fists beneath his chin as he sucked contentedly.
"Your father will come."
God, please guide the men safely home to us!
Annie had said little about it, but Sarah knew she feared that Haviland had found some reason to detain them. Sarah prayed that was not true. She remembered only too clearly how much Haviland had seemed to hate Connor from the first moment he’d met him. She could not bear to think of him and his brothers spending Christmas in chains in the cold and dark of the garrison’s guardhouse.
She stroked little William’s cheek, seeing so much of Connor in his face. She rocked him until he’d finished feeding, then carried him to his cradle and covered him with a felt blanket, tucking a warm rabbit fur around him.
How horrified her mother would be to see Sarah covering her son with a fur, but the fur was soft to the skin and much warmer than the damask coverlet and itchy woolen blanket that Sarah had slept beneath as a child.
She bent down, kissed little William’s cheek.
From the distance, she heard that same dreadful bellowing, and knew that the bull was raging again. They’d been forced to bring him and Nessa inside the barn to protect them from the cold. But shut away from Nessa in its own stall, the animal had begun to crash its head against the stall gate, the water trough, the walls of the barn itself, defying even Amalie’s attempt to calm it.
Sarah
He offered Iain his hand, struggling to find the right words. "It was an honor to be your commanding officer. I thank you for your service, however reluctant it might have been. You fought with uncommon valor."
"I cannae forgi ’ nor forget what you did to me and my brothers, nor the wrongs you’ve done to Annie, Amalie, and Sarah," Iain said, taking his hand in a firm grasp, "but you are not wi’out honor. Let the enmity between us end here and now."
At those words, the weight on William’s shoulders grew lighter.
Morgan held out his hand. "You balanced the scales atween us when you helped me escape the hangman’s noose and secured my pardon. For my part, I forgi’e you."
"Of the three of you, I trusted you the most." William shook Morgan’s hand, then turned to Connor. "Tell Sarah that I…love her. Take care of her."
"I promise you she will be safe and want for naugh ’ so long as there is life in my body." Connor clasped his hand, and they shook. "There have been days when I’ve cursed you. I once vowed to kill you. But many’s the time you came unexpectedly to our aid — such as today. It is those times I will remember."
Shivering with fever, William released Connor’s hand. "Farewell."
He sank back into his chair, unable to stand any longer.
"May God’s blessings go wi ’ you," Connor said.
The brothers turned as one and walked out the door.
Iain paused in the doorway, looked back at him, and grinned. "Merry Christmas, Your Immensity."
As William watched them disappear down the hallway, he knew he would never see their like again.
CHAPTER 7
Sarah sat by the fire upstairs nursing little William. Down below, Annie and Amalie were busy preparing the Christmas Eve feast, the house filled with delicious scents — roasted turkey, freshly baked bread, cinnamon from pies. They’d spent most of the day cooking and baking, while Killy and Joseph had carried wood, fetched water for them, and tended to the outside chores.
All the gifts were made. The baking was done. Wood was cut and piled high. Christmas was upon them.
But the men were not yet home.
Sarah’s gaze was drawn once again to the window. Outside, heavy snow still fell, clouds concealing the late afternoon sunlight. Connor and his brothers would not make it home through this storm. Nor would she want them to try. If they should leave Albany and find themselves benighted in the forest or lose their way...
She looked down at her baby boy’s sweet face. His eyes were now closed, his tiny hands curved into little fists beneath his chin as he sucked contentedly.
"Your father will come."
God, please guide the men safely home to us!
Annie had said little about it, but Sarah knew she feared that Haviland had found some reason to detain them. Sarah prayed that was not true. She remembered only too clearly how much Haviland had seemed to hate Connor from the first moment he’d met him. She could not bear to think of him and his brothers spending Christmas in chains in the cold and dark of the garrison’s guardhouse.
She stroked little William’s cheek, seeing so much of Connor in his face. She rocked him until he’d finished feeding, then carried him to his cradle and covered him with a felt blanket, tucking a warm rabbit fur around him.
How horrified her mother would be to see Sarah covering her son with a fur, but the fur was soft to the skin and much warmer than the damask coverlet and itchy woolen blanket that Sarah had slept beneath as a child.
She bent down, kissed little William’s cheek.
From the distance, she heard that same dreadful bellowing, and knew that the bull was raging again. They’d been forced to bring him and Nessa inside the barn to protect them from the cold. But shut away from Nessa in its own stall, the animal had begun to crash its head against the stall gate, the water trough, the walls of the barn itself, defying even Amalie’s attempt to calm it.
Sarah
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