Read Online THE GIFT: A Highland Novella by Margaret Mallory - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Margaret Mallory
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seemed very doubtful that Lily was the seer his grandmother foretold. If she had The Sight at all, she hid it damned well. The key was lying right in front her in the grass.
“ Here it is, lass, ” he said, and handed it to her.
“ Praise God! ” She clutched the key in her hands like a prayer and rested her head on her knees. “ I don ’ t belong here. I want to go home. ”
Her words left a hollow feeling in his chest. To comfort her, he sat beside her and put his arm around her.
“ Well, ye can ’ t go just yet, ” he said. “ But in a few weeks, the winter storms will pass, and it will be safe to sail the open sea again. ”
By then, he ’ d know if she carried his child. If she did, he could give her no choice but to marry him. He did not know which made him feel worse — the thought of never seeing Lily again or the prospect of making a second wife miserable.
“ You ’ re a verra special lass, ” he said, squeezing her shoulders. “ I ’ ll hate to see ye go. ”
He was shocked to his boots when she turned and pulled him into a deep kiss. Soon, they were rolling on the ground lost in passion, with no thought of tomorrow.
CHAPTER 8
Lily gasped as another wave broke over the side of the boat, drenching her with cold spray. Her hair had blown free from its knot and whipped across her face, stinging her skin. Through the loose strands, she watched Roderick, fixing every image of him in her memory. She stifled a sigh and told herself not to ruin what little time she had left with him by dwelling on how miserable she would be when they parted.
Despite the rough sea, Roderick was laughing and talking with the other men as if he was unaware that the boat was bouncing like a cork. Clearly, the man was born to sail. After adjusting the ropes holding the sail, he crossed the boat to where she sat clinging to the bench to keep from sliding back and forth.
“’ Tis a great day for sailing, aye? ” he said with a wide grin.
Racing across the water was rather thrilling, but if she were honest with herself, she missed the physical closeness of riding on horseback with him. And she could do without the dozen other men in the boat, who eyed her while speaking in Gaelic.
“ What are they saying? ” she asked.
“ Well, they ’ re curious as to why I ’ ve returned with a Sassenach, ” he said. “ But mostly, they ’ re remarking on how fetching ye look in breeches. ”
She looked down at her wet and dirty clothes. Fetching? Either he was lying or these Highlanders had not seen a woman in a very long time. When they reached their destination, she would have to use one of her precious coins to buy a gown and shoes.
Roderick rested a hand on her shoulder and leaned down while he pointed to an island ahead. “ That ’ s the Isle of Islay, the center of the great MacDonald clan. We ’ ll leave the galley in the bay and walk inland to Finnlaggan. ”
She heard reverence in his voice when he spoke of Finnlaggan, but she did not expect to be impressed. As a Londoner, she had seen royal processions, royal barges, and the formidable walls of the two royal palaces on the Thames.
“ Clan MacDonald has castles throughout the isles and on the mainland, ” he said. “ But Finnlaggan is where Alexander, the Lord of the Isles, meets with the council, and he considers it his home. ”
After the men pulled the boat onto the shore between dozens of others, Roderick lifted her down. The ground felt as if it were rolling under her like the sea, and she was grateful for Roderick ’ s arm to steady her as they followed the others down a well-trod path.
They had walked some distance when they entered a large meadow with a lone holly tree on one side of the path and a tall, rectangular stone on the other.
“ What is that stone? ” she asked, pointing.
“’ Tis from long, long ago, before our people were Christian, before the oldest tales of our heroes. You ’ ll find stones like this alone and in
“ Here it is, lass, ” he said, and handed it to her.
“ Praise God! ” She clutched the key in her hands like a prayer and rested her head on her knees. “ I don ’ t belong here. I want to go home. ”
Her words left a hollow feeling in his chest. To comfort her, he sat beside her and put his arm around her.
“ Well, ye can ’ t go just yet, ” he said. “ But in a few weeks, the winter storms will pass, and it will be safe to sail the open sea again. ”
By then, he ’ d know if she carried his child. If she did, he could give her no choice but to marry him. He did not know which made him feel worse — the thought of never seeing Lily again or the prospect of making a second wife miserable.
“ You ’ re a verra special lass, ” he said, squeezing her shoulders. “ I ’ ll hate to see ye go. ”
He was shocked to his boots when she turned and pulled him into a deep kiss. Soon, they were rolling on the ground lost in passion, with no thought of tomorrow.
CHAPTER 8
Lily gasped as another wave broke over the side of the boat, drenching her with cold spray. Her hair had blown free from its knot and whipped across her face, stinging her skin. Through the loose strands, she watched Roderick, fixing every image of him in her memory. She stifled a sigh and told herself not to ruin what little time she had left with him by dwelling on how miserable she would be when they parted.
Despite the rough sea, Roderick was laughing and talking with the other men as if he was unaware that the boat was bouncing like a cork. Clearly, the man was born to sail. After adjusting the ropes holding the sail, he crossed the boat to where she sat clinging to the bench to keep from sliding back and forth.
“’ Tis a great day for sailing, aye? ” he said with a wide grin.
Racing across the water was rather thrilling, but if she were honest with herself, she missed the physical closeness of riding on horseback with him. And she could do without the dozen other men in the boat, who eyed her while speaking in Gaelic.
“ What are they saying? ” she asked.
“ Well, they ’ re curious as to why I ’ ve returned with a Sassenach, ” he said. “ But mostly, they ’ re remarking on how fetching ye look in breeches. ”
She looked down at her wet and dirty clothes. Fetching? Either he was lying or these Highlanders had not seen a woman in a very long time. When they reached their destination, she would have to use one of her precious coins to buy a gown and shoes.
Roderick rested a hand on her shoulder and leaned down while he pointed to an island ahead. “ That ’ s the Isle of Islay, the center of the great MacDonald clan. We ’ ll leave the galley in the bay and walk inland to Finnlaggan. ”
She heard reverence in his voice when he spoke of Finnlaggan, but she did not expect to be impressed. As a Londoner, she had seen royal processions, royal barges, and the formidable walls of the two royal palaces on the Thames.
“ Clan MacDonald has castles throughout the isles and on the mainland, ” he said. “ But Finnlaggan is where Alexander, the Lord of the Isles, meets with the council, and he considers it his home. ”
After the men pulled the boat onto the shore between dozens of others, Roderick lifted her down. The ground felt as if it were rolling under her like the sea, and she was grateful for Roderick ’ s arm to steady her as they followed the others down a well-trod path.
They had walked some distance when they entered a large meadow with a lone holly tree on one side of the path and a tall, rectangular stone on the other.
“ What is that stone? ” she asked, pointing.
“’ Tis from long, long ago, before our people were Christian, before the oldest tales of our heroes. You ’ ll find stones like this alone and in
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