Read Online Revenge (Book 3 of Lost Highlander series) by Cassidy Cayman - Free Book Online Page B

she answered, then shook her head at Quinn. “I wanted to call the physician.”
    Two days! It was a wonder the entire Glen clan hadn’t besieged them by now. Bella was safely upstairs, and everyone seemed calm enough. Maybe the worst was over, and hadn’t even been that bad.
    Pietro assured Gwen he was feeling much better, even though his bones felt like wormwood, and took a bite of bacon to prove it to her.
    “Where’s Bella?” Catie asked, earning herself a swat on the arm by her aunt. “Lady Bella,” she corrected.
    “That’s no’ what I was smacking ye for, lass, though it may as well have been,” Gwen corrected her crossly. “Ye shouldna ask Connor where the lady is, because how could he know, having so recently come from his bed?”
    “I beg yer pardon,” she said, barely hiding a snicker. She flinched away from Quinn’s hand just in time to avoid his smack. “I thought it would be fun to have ye visit,” she complained. “I dinna need another person beating me.”
    Pietro found himself charmed by the homey atmosphere and the friendly bickering that was going on around him. He was an only child, so knew nothing of sibling relationships. Supposedly, he and his family were written about, posted on Piper’s family tree. Why hadn’t he demanded to know everything she knew of his future, her distant past? He’d been too rattled by the unreality of it.
    He’d just have to wing it, and hope Bella let him close enough ever again for any chance at them having children.
    She came into the kitchen, looking fresh and dewy, her hair back in a long braid, a few tendrils winding their way down the front of her gown, resting on her creamy cleavage. He turned away abruptly and focused on his plate of food so he wouldn’t be caught staring at her.
    She bid everyone a good morning and looked askance at his attire, as if he were reflecting poorly on her by wearing his night gown to the breakfast table. His face flamed.
    “I couldn’t find my jeans,” he said, abashed.
    “Is that what ye call them?” Catie asked. “I’ve given them to be washed. Where are ye from that they dress in that manner?”
    “He’s from Edinburgh,” Bella supplied tartly when Pietro just sat there dumbly. “He’s the master of the horse of a verra prestigious home there. And that’s what they wear.” She gave Catie a look that dared her to speak again any time that day and Catie actually looked down at her plate with a respectful nod.
    Pietro was both impressed and disturbed that the lie rolled so easily off her tongue.
    “I’ve no other clothes,” he admitted sadly.
    If the clothes he’d worn when they arrived were being washed, would he have to wear the dressing gown all day? His headache was coming back, probably exacerbated by stress and the extremely salty breakfast.
    “Ye can wear one of my late husband’s plaids, may heaven rest him. His shirts should fit ye as well, though ye’re a bit taller than he was.” Aunt Gwen stood up and headed out of the room, and not knowing what else to do, he stood and followed her.
    She opened a worn wooden chest, letting the top fall with a thunk. Sighing down at the neatly folded pile of kilts, she nodded once and turned to Pietro with a tremulous smile.
    “This is kind of ye,” Pietro said, taking a muted version of the Ferguson plaid.
    “Ah, well, we can’t have ye fighting in yer dressing gown,” she said. “And Quinn says Lachlan owes ye a great debt.”
    Did he? That was interesting. He supposed it was true if Piper’s existence depended on him and Bella ever getting together. Pietro didn’t have to spend five minutes with the man to notice how important Piper was to him. Not that he wasn’t already under a great deal of stress, this little reminder made his eye start to twitch. He covered his eye with his hand and smiled crookedly.
    “And not least, he owes ye for the bruises.”
    He laughed and ran his hand over his still ragged face. “I may have partly deserved