Read Online The Highlander's Forbidden Bride by Donna Fletcher - Free Book Online
Authors: Donna Fletcher
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didn’t need to hear her worst fear confirmed though she hadn’t expected any different.
“Is there enough food in the root cellar for us?” he asked.
“More than sufficient,” she assured him. “There is even dried meat.”
“Good, for it would not be easy to hunt in this weather.”
“The sky shows no promise of change?” she asked, seeking a shred of hope.
Ronan shook his head. “The sky is barely visible, the snow falls so heavily, and it feels like the storm brews as if it has yet to reach its peak.”
Carissa nodded, knowing that it wasn’t the only storm out there brewing. The one inside the cottage had yet to gain momentum, and when it peaked, she feared the results.
Chapter 9
Y ou would think that there would be nothing to do but wait out the storm, but there was a matter of survival to consider. Which was why Ronan braved the harsh weather several times during the day to gather as much of the firewood as possible to stack inside the cottage. It needed time to dry in order to burn properly.
Carissa had suggested that they collect certain food staples from the root cellar to keep in the cottage so that they didn’t have to continually open the root cellar and lose the much-needed heat.
She also found two extra blankets in the chest beside the bed. Ronan watched as she took a chair from the table, placed its back to the hearth, and draped one blanket over it. She turned the blanket several times, exposing all sides to the heat. She’d test it with her hand now and again, and when it seemed to please her touch, she moved it to the bed and placed the second blanket over the back of the chair.
He wondered over her domestic actions. He never imagined her capable of anything useful.To him she was the spoiled and selfish daughter of a barbarian, who demanded and got whatever she wanted, and that included killing people at her whim.
He had a difficult time seeing her as a capable woman, especially one who could cook more than a decent meal and see to keeping a bed warm with little to help her accomplish the task. Least of all, he had not expected her to provide him with a tankard of hot cider every time he had come in out of the cold.
He had to remember who she was and ask himself why she acted so contrary to her nature. The answer was obvious. She was a cunning creature who would do anything to survive, even change her demeanor. He had to be very careful around her. He couldn’t allow her to deceive him. He had to remember always who she was…the person who had killed the woman he loved.
Night had fallen hours ago, and for supper they had enjoyed the hearty soup that had simmered in the cauldron all day. Carissa had baked two loaves of dark bread, saving one loaf for tomorrow. She had also made some type of apple spread to go with it, and Ronan had savored every delicious bite, not leaving a drop of soup or crumb.
Still, no matter how much he enjoyed her cooking, he had to remember she was a deceitful woman and remain on guard.
She sat in the rocking chair after taking a flat pan from the hearth, placing it in the middle of the bed, and pulling the covers over it. A small crocksat in her lap, and she scooped some salve from it and rubbed it over her hands.
The scent drifted over to him…lavender.
He grew annoyed by the peaceful family scene they shared and stood to rest a hand on the mantel, and to question the woman hiding inside Carissa.
“How did you escape when my brother Cavan attacked your father’s stronghold?”
“I always paid attention to my father’s advice, not that I always agreed,” she said. “He had been abundantly clear about making certain always to have a means of escape wherever one was.” She shook her head and moved the crock from her lap to the floor. “He should have taken his own advice, but then he was so certain all would go his way.”
“And you weren’t?”
“Not in the least,” she admitted. “You don’t declare war on a powerful clan like
“Is there enough food in the root cellar for us?” he asked.
“More than sufficient,” she assured him. “There is even dried meat.”
“Good, for it would not be easy to hunt in this weather.”
“The sky shows no promise of change?” she asked, seeking a shred of hope.
Ronan shook his head. “The sky is barely visible, the snow falls so heavily, and it feels like the storm brews as if it has yet to reach its peak.”
Carissa nodded, knowing that it wasn’t the only storm out there brewing. The one inside the cottage had yet to gain momentum, and when it peaked, she feared the results.
Chapter 9
Y ou would think that there would be nothing to do but wait out the storm, but there was a matter of survival to consider. Which was why Ronan braved the harsh weather several times during the day to gather as much of the firewood as possible to stack inside the cottage. It needed time to dry in order to burn properly.
Carissa had suggested that they collect certain food staples from the root cellar to keep in the cottage so that they didn’t have to continually open the root cellar and lose the much-needed heat.
She also found two extra blankets in the chest beside the bed. Ronan watched as she took a chair from the table, placed its back to the hearth, and draped one blanket over it. She turned the blanket several times, exposing all sides to the heat. She’d test it with her hand now and again, and when it seemed to please her touch, she moved it to the bed and placed the second blanket over the back of the chair.
He wondered over her domestic actions. He never imagined her capable of anything useful.To him she was the spoiled and selfish daughter of a barbarian, who demanded and got whatever she wanted, and that included killing people at her whim.
He had a difficult time seeing her as a capable woman, especially one who could cook more than a decent meal and see to keeping a bed warm with little to help her accomplish the task. Least of all, he had not expected her to provide him with a tankard of hot cider every time he had come in out of the cold.
He had to remember who she was and ask himself why she acted so contrary to her nature. The answer was obvious. She was a cunning creature who would do anything to survive, even change her demeanor. He had to be very careful around her. He couldn’t allow her to deceive him. He had to remember always who she was…the person who had killed the woman he loved.
Night had fallen hours ago, and for supper they had enjoyed the hearty soup that had simmered in the cauldron all day. Carissa had baked two loaves of dark bread, saving one loaf for tomorrow. She had also made some type of apple spread to go with it, and Ronan had savored every delicious bite, not leaving a drop of soup or crumb.
Still, no matter how much he enjoyed her cooking, he had to remember she was a deceitful woman and remain on guard.
She sat in the rocking chair after taking a flat pan from the hearth, placing it in the middle of the bed, and pulling the covers over it. A small crocksat in her lap, and she scooped some salve from it and rubbed it over her hands.
The scent drifted over to him…lavender.
He grew annoyed by the peaceful family scene they shared and stood to rest a hand on the mantel, and to question the woman hiding inside Carissa.
“How did you escape when my brother Cavan attacked your father’s stronghold?”
“I always paid attention to my father’s advice, not that I always agreed,” she said. “He had been abundantly clear about making certain always to have a means of escape wherever one was.” She shook her head and moved the crock from her lap to the floor. “He should have taken his own advice, but then he was so certain all would go his way.”
“And you weren’t?”
“Not in the least,” she admitted. “You don’t declare war on a powerful clan like
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