Read Online Teresa Medeiros - [FairyTale 02] by The Bride, the Beast - Free Book Online

in a room without doors? And what ‘business’ could a man like you possibly have with a dying Highland village populated only by those too poor or too mule-headed to leave?” A new thought struck her. “Is it the curse? Did you and your Mr. Tuppingham hear about the curse and decide Ballybliss would be easy prey for your trickery?”
    She could hear him slow in his pacing. “I seem to recall some vague mention of a curse.” When he paused, she found it easy to imagine him tapping that insolent mouth of his with one elegant finger. “Ah, yes, I remember now. It seems the clan’s own chieftain called down doom upon the heads of the good folk of Bally-bliss with his dying breath. Tell me, Miss Wilder, just what did your clansmen do to deserve such a terrible fate?”
    “It wasn’t what they did. It’s what they didn’t do.” Gwendolyn bowed her head, thankful that he couldn’t see the shadow of shame in her eyes. “Our chieftain was a secret sympathizer with Bonnie Prince Charlie and his cause. When the prince needed somewhere to hide after his defeat at Culloden, the MacCullough offered him sanctuary at Castle Weyrcraig.”
    “A noble, if misguided, impulse.”
    Gwendolyn jerked up her head. “Misguided? I thinknot. The MacCullough was a dreamer—a man of vision who dared to imagine a Scotland free of English tyranny, a Scotland united beneath the banner of its rightful king.”
    “But at what price, Miss Wilder? Even the most magnificent of dreams has a way of turning to ashes by the light of day.”
    Gwendolyn’s passionate denial died in her throat. She couldn’t very well defend her chieftain while entombed in the ruins of his dream. She bowed her head again, toying with a fold of the sheet. “ The Duke of Cumberland somehow discovered the prince’s hiding place. Charles escaped into the night, but Cumberland was determined to make our chieftain pay for betraying the Crown. So he and his soldiers dragged their cannons up the hill and opened fire upon the castle.”
    “And I suppose this is when the MacCullough’s loyal clan rushed to their chieftain’s defense, drums thundering and bagpipes howling the doom of any redcoat who dared to lift a sword against their laird.”
    “The clan didn’t come to his defense,” she said softly. “The MacCullough was forced to stand alone.”
    “No wonder he cursed them,” the Dragon said with a cynical snort of laughter.
    “They were afraid!” Gwendolyn cried. “Every man, woman, and child in that village knew why Cumberland’s enemies called him The Butcher. They’d heard how he’d slaughtered the wounded at Culloden until the soil ran red with Scots blood.”
    “So the villagers of Ballybliss just huddled in theircottages behind their bolted doors while their laird and his family were massacred.” Somehow, the utter lack of emotion in his words made them even more damning.
    “They believed Cumberland would spare them if they didn’t interfere.”
    “And did he? “
    “They weren’t murdered in their beds. Their cottages weren’t razed to the ground.” The blindfold did not hide the blush creeping into her cheeks. “Their wives and daughters weren’t raped and forced to bear the babes of English soldiers nine months later.”
    The Dragon began to pace again, the husky counterpoint of his voice mesmerizing her. “But what little gold they’d managed to hoard was confiscated by the Crown in the name of taxation. Everything that had bound them together as a clan was outlawed—their faith, their tartans, their weapons. The youngest and the strongest fled Ballybliss, while those who were left behind spent the next fifteen years looking over their shoulders, waiting for the doom they’d been promised to swoop down from the sky like some angel of vengeance and destroy them.”
    “How do you know all of this?” Gwendolyn whispered.
    “Perhaps I am that angel.” Before she could decide if he was mocking her or himself, he laughed. “Or