Read Online The Highlander's Heart by Amanda Forester - Free Book Online

thatch-roofed houses crowding the streets. Cloth was arranged in organized piles, and hung on rungs of short ladders leaned up against the walls. Isabelle ran her hand over several selections, smiling. There was a nice variety, some rough, some fine.
    Isabelle brushed her hand over gray wool, russet brown damask, and saffron yellow linen. The shop clerk eyed her and Campbell with interest and disappeared back into his shop, emerging a moment later with an armful of silk. Isabelle’s pulse quickened.
    The silks were high quality, smooth and soft, with vibrant colors of dark red, sage green, and bright blue. She glanced up at Campbell, but his face was unreadable. The silks must be quite costly. Time for a little revenge for her blisters.
    “I’ll take this wool here, no, not that one, it smells of mold, this one here. I’ll take the russet damask, the green silk, and the blue.” Isabelle spoke with confidence. She had been bartering for goods for years, though admittedly never in an open market.
    The shopkeeper stared at her, then at Campbell. “She is English?”
    “Aye,” said Campbell. “Is that a problem?”
    “Nay, nay.” The shopkeeper smiled broadly. Isabelle could almost see the coin being counted in his head. “’Tis fine, good quality cloth, I will give ye a good price.”
    Campbell said something to the shopkeeper in his own Gaelic tongue, and the burgher answered in kind. Though she could not understand their words, it was not difficult to comprehend they were negotiating for price.
    The burgher gave them a wide smile, reverently stroking the blue silk, showing its fine quality. Campbell fingered the silk as if it was rough and displeasing, probably saying something about an inferior weave.
    “I am sure we could get a better price at the borders.” Isabelle could not help but get into the act. Campbell nodded in agreement. “I think this cloth has been stored too long, it has a damp smell to it. Not up to English standards, I say.”
    “My lady!” cried the burgher, much grieved. “This is the finest silk ye would find anywhere. It arrived last week from France. Finer silk ye’ll ne’er see.”
    The two men continued to barter until Campbell made his purchase of the cloth Isabelle chose, along with a handful of ribbons. He tied the bundles to his saddle and steered her through the rest of the market, his arm around her shoulder.
    “Ye barter well, my lady. My sisters will be well pleased, though ye beggar me wi’ yer choices. Still, Cait is getting married and I promised her something special for her dowry.”
    Campbell bought two meat pastries and gave one to Isabelle. She breathed in the savory smell. The crust was buttery and the tender meat melted in her mouth. She smiled and took another bite of flavorful pastry, the meal reviving her spirits.
    They walked slowly through the waning crowd, Isabelle trying not to be happy and failing at it. She felt not at all like a lost English lady, but more a friend or relative, or something else to this man Campbell.
    She had to admit that while still a barbarian, Campbell was a considerate man and a kind brother… and not at all difficult to look upon. His arm was warm around her shoulders and her side touched his as they strolled down High Street, their backs to the setting sun.
    “The Black Friars are o’er there.” Campbell had taken on the role of tour guide.
    “Black?” asked Isabelle.
    “Dominican. So-named because of the color o’ their robes.” The lane turned to the right, revealing an impressive cathedral high on a hill, surrounded by fields on one side and a forest on the other. The setting sun caught the glass and stone of the cathedral, giving it a rosy orange hue. Isabelle paused at the impressive sight.
    “Glasgow Cathedral. Beautiful is she no’?”
    Isabelle nodded. The arm around her shoulder dropped and Campbell took her hand. “We’ll be here for the night.” He led her to a large stone inn and retrieved his packages,