Read Online To Love a Highlander by Sue-Ellen Welfonder - Free Book Online

of my home. As I told you, that’s the reason I came up here.”
    “You miss your hills so much?” His voice carried an edge.
    “Any Highlander would.” Mirabelle wished he wasn’t standing so near. He truly was imposing. Wind tossed his thick, dark hair, the ends dancing across his broad shoulders. Thanks to the same wind, his warm, sandalwood scent drifted over her, its headiness proving a great distraction. The fierce look on his face disturbed her even more.
    Could it be he disliked the Highlands?
    Turning back to the view, she lifted her chin, sure that wasn’t possible.
    He simply didn’t care for her.
    She placed her hands on the same merlon he’d leaned against moments ago, taking strength from the stone’s cold, damp solidity.
    “A Highlander is aye deeply attached to the land.” She kept her gaze on the River Forth rather than her beloved hills. She didn’t want emotion to thicken her voice and that would happen if she spoke such truths while looking on her home when separated by miles from its embrace. “Our hearts shrivel, our souls withering when we must be away. The yearning to return is a terrible ache inside us.”
    “Indeed?” He came to stand beside her, his voice even harder than before. “I would not know.”
    Mirabelle glanced at him. “Have you never been there then? If you had, you’d understand.”
    “Stirling is my home. I’ve ne’er journeyed so far north as your hills. I—” he broke off when two guardsmen rounded a corner, striding past them on their morning circuit of the battlements.
    As if the patrol’s arrival heralded the true beginning of the day, the sound of garrison men practicing arms reached them from the training ground then, the burst of noise quickly followed by the laughter of kitchen women at the castle well. Somewhere a cart rumbled over cobbles and a horn blast signaled that visitors had been spotted nearing the gates. Before the flourish faded away, a woman’s angry voice rose, scolding someone about a spilled barrel of oats. Soon, Mirabelle knew, the cacophony would worsen.
    She lifted her face into the wind, trying not to wince.
    “All I wish is here, lady.” Sorley leaned against the wall and crossed his ankles. “For truth, I cannae see the lure of a place so remote and empty that the only sound is the wind across the moors and the fall of rain on stone. Or, saints forbid, the lonely echo of one’s own footsteps halloing through a deserted glen.
    “Indeed”—he folded his arms—“a man must be mad to dwell in such a place.”
    Mirabelle held her peace, refusing to let him bait her. “I would say it is astonishing that anyone could resist living there.”
    Something like annoyance flashed over Sorley’s features. “I’m sure every Highlander believes that is so.”
    Mirabelle’s chin came up. “We know it is.”
    “And I must be gone.” He pushed away from the wall, adjusted his thick calfskin jerkin.
    “I’ve kept you, haven’t I?” Mirabelle glanced at his travel pouch over by the tower stair. “You were on your way to the Red Lion.”
    “Aye, so I am.”
    “Do you always carry so many weapons when visitingan alehouse?” She flicked a look at his sword, then the dirk tucked beneath his belt. She couldn’t be sure, but suspected he also had a dagger in his boot. “Have you more arms in thon leather bag? You already said it doesn’t contain coin for the tavern wenches.”
    “Are you aye so inquisitive, sweetness?” He leaned in, so close that his breath warmed her cheek. “Curiosity is no’ a safe habit.”
    “Highlanders are a curious folk.”
    “That they are.” He smiled, clearly pleased to twist her words.
    “You know what I meant.” Mirabelle studied him, noting the irritation behind his levity. “You dislike Highlanders, don’t you?” She tilted her head, tapping her chin. “I wonder why that is when, as you say, you have never traveled north to visit our hills?”
    “I’ve no need to go there.” He