Read Online The Legend Mackinnon by Donna Kauffman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Donna Kauffman
Ads: Link
you, my lord.” She yanked the curtains shut and started to turn on the water, but paused when she heard him speak.
“I am no lord, lass. No chieftain either. I am but the shamed second son.” This quiet statement was punctuated by the loud thump of another log joining the fire.
She opened the curtain, but when she came out, he wasn’t there. She found herself thinking about going outside to see if she could find him. Just to see where he goes, she told herself, not to do anything rash.
She could hear the wind whipping through the trees. It was dark, and the mountain was still unfamiliar territory. But that wasn’t what made her decide to stay. No matter what he said about his limited powers, she was certain Duncan MacKinnon was only seen when he chose to be seen.
Snuggled in bed—after changing under the covers—her thoughts shifted to the journal she’d been reading. She’d already rummaged to the bottom of the trunk, but Lachlan’s rambling didn’t seem to follow any sort of chronology. Information on Mairi and Duncan could be in any one of the lengthy volumes, if it was there at all. She wondered yet again what it was Lachlan had been searching for, but drifted off to sleep before she could match action to thought.
B y the afternoon of her fifth day in hiding, Maggie was ready to tear out her hair, one strand at a time. Duncan had made himself all but invisible, the irony of which had ceased to be amusing days ago. They had little if any conversation and even her best attempts at goading him had fallen on seemingly deaf ears.
His offer to help her with her problems hadn’t come up again and her pride and his silence kept her from mentioning it.
Other than a daily foray or two into the woods which just happened to coincide with Duncan’s daily disappearances, she’d spent most of her time tucked away withLachlan’s journals. So far she hadn’t gone further back than the 1800s but she was still as fascinated by the people Lachlan wrote about as she was by Lachlan himself.
She wished she’d had the opportunity to meet Lachlan Claren. From his frank, no nonsense observations and dry wit in describing his own ancestors, he sounded like quite the character. She imagined he and her Aunt Mathilda would have made quite the duo.
Maggie stared out the front porch window and wondered where Duncan had gone off to this time. In all her attempts, she’d yet to find a trace of him in the woods. She scowled, remembering early this morning, when she was certain she heard the chopping sounds of wood being cut, yet each clearing she’d sneaked up on had turned out to be absent of man or chopped wood. All she got was the faint moaning of the wind and the occasional echo of bagpipes mocking her.
She slanted a look at the freshly stacked pile of wood by the fireplace that had been there when she’d returned. Damn the man’s ghostly hide!
She’d been here almost a week. A week with no newspapers, no CSPAN, no cell phone, no stock reports. She couldn’t recall ever being that cut off from the day-to-day workings of her world. Even one week out of the race and she wondered how she’d ever catch up. Or if she could.
For that alone she’d never forgive Judd. She’d been good at her job and she’d enjoyed the sweat and grit it had taken to climb the ladder. So, maybe she’d daydreamed once or twice while twirling her engagement ring around that Judd’s demands that she give up her career to become the perfect corporate wife didn’t rankle as badly as they should have. That he’d made them rankled, but …
But now she’d have to start over from scratch. After escaping from the condo, she’d gone straight to the police station. They’d told her they could arrest him for violating the restraining order, but that if she had anywhere else togo, preferably a place Judd didn’t know about, it would be best if she went there. Immediately.
She read stories like this in the papers all the time. They didn’t
“I am no lord, lass. No chieftain either. I am but the shamed second son.” This quiet statement was punctuated by the loud thump of another log joining the fire.
She opened the curtain, but when she came out, he wasn’t there. She found herself thinking about going outside to see if she could find him. Just to see where he goes, she told herself, not to do anything rash.
She could hear the wind whipping through the trees. It was dark, and the mountain was still unfamiliar territory. But that wasn’t what made her decide to stay. No matter what he said about his limited powers, she was certain Duncan MacKinnon was only seen when he chose to be seen.
Snuggled in bed—after changing under the covers—her thoughts shifted to the journal she’d been reading. She’d already rummaged to the bottom of the trunk, but Lachlan’s rambling didn’t seem to follow any sort of chronology. Information on Mairi and Duncan could be in any one of the lengthy volumes, if it was there at all. She wondered yet again what it was Lachlan had been searching for, but drifted off to sleep before she could match action to thought.
B y the afternoon of her fifth day in hiding, Maggie was ready to tear out her hair, one strand at a time. Duncan had made himself all but invisible, the irony of which had ceased to be amusing days ago. They had little if any conversation and even her best attempts at goading him had fallen on seemingly deaf ears.
His offer to help her with her problems hadn’t come up again and her pride and his silence kept her from mentioning it.
Other than a daily foray or two into the woods which just happened to coincide with Duncan’s daily disappearances, she’d spent most of her time tucked away withLachlan’s journals. So far she hadn’t gone further back than the 1800s but she was still as fascinated by the people Lachlan wrote about as she was by Lachlan himself.
She wished she’d had the opportunity to meet Lachlan Claren. From his frank, no nonsense observations and dry wit in describing his own ancestors, he sounded like quite the character. She imagined he and her Aunt Mathilda would have made quite the duo.
Maggie stared out the front porch window and wondered where Duncan had gone off to this time. In all her attempts, she’d yet to find a trace of him in the woods. She scowled, remembering early this morning, when she was certain she heard the chopping sounds of wood being cut, yet each clearing she’d sneaked up on had turned out to be absent of man or chopped wood. All she got was the faint moaning of the wind and the occasional echo of bagpipes mocking her.
She slanted a look at the freshly stacked pile of wood by the fireplace that had been there when she’d returned. Damn the man’s ghostly hide!
She’d been here almost a week. A week with no newspapers, no CSPAN, no cell phone, no stock reports. She couldn’t recall ever being that cut off from the day-to-day workings of her world. Even one week out of the race and she wondered how she’d ever catch up. Or if she could.
For that alone she’d never forgive Judd. She’d been good at her job and she’d enjoyed the sweat and grit it had taken to climb the ladder. So, maybe she’d daydreamed once or twice while twirling her engagement ring around that Judd’s demands that she give up her career to become the perfect corporate wife didn’t rankle as badly as they should have. That he’d made them rankled, but …
But now she’d have to start over from scratch. After escaping from the condo, she’d gone straight to the police station. They’d told her they could arrest him for violating the restraining order, but that if she had anywhere else togo, preferably a place Judd didn’t know about, it would be best if she went there. Immediately.
She read stories like this in the papers all the time. They didn’t
Similar Books
