Read Online Wings of Morning by Kathleen Morgan - Free Book Online Page B

It was the dazzling brilliance of his smile—warm, open, and welcoming—and how it spread all the way to his beautiful eyes that were Regan’s true undoing.
    She swallowed hard and forced herself to offer him her hand. “I’m honored finally to meet ye, m’lord,” she said, her voice sounding tight and odd. “I’ve wanted to thank ye for yer hospitality. I don’t know what would’ve become of me if ye hadn’t taken me in.”
    He grasped her hand in a large, callused palm, gave it a gentle squeeze, then released it. “Ye’re most kindly welcome, lass. But we would’ve never turned away anyone in need.”
    Regan managed a wan smile. “I know it’s the Highland way, but nonetheless, I may never be able to repay ye. Even if I do have any money . . .”
    “Well, with or without yer money, none of that matters. Indeed, we’d be insulted, my mither and I would, if ye ever attempted to repay us. What we offer is given freely. We serve strangers as if they were the Lord Jesus Himself. It can be no other way.”
    So, he was a God-fearing man, was he? The realization comforted her, as did the compassionate look of understanding in his eyes. The last bit of apprehension over being in a strange place without even the solace of her memories faded. She was safe.
    “Have ye time to sit and talk with me a while?” Her gaze moved past him to where Jane stood by the open door. “Fetch m’lord a stool or something, will ye, lass? It isn’t proper that he should be left standing in his own home.”
    Jane immediately hurried over with her own stool. “Will this suit, m’lord?”
    Iain smiled. “Aye, it would, but only if ye’ve no further need of it. I’ll not take yer own seat from ye.”
    “Och, dinna fash yerself, m’lord. It’s past time I was folding the clean laundry, it was. So I’ve no further need of my stool.”
    The servant handed over the little seat, and Regan noted how she blushed and lowered her gaze. Regan couldn’t help but smile herself. If Iain Campbell was always this considerate of his servants, she suspected half the women in the castle were secretly in love with him.
    As Jane bustled off to the far side of the bedchamber near the clothes chest and laundry basket, Balloch’s laird placed the stool several feet in front of Regan and took his seat. He then lifted his striking gaze to hers.
    “So, what would ye like to speak of, lass?” he asked.
    Simple curiosity gleamed in his eyes, which only disarmed Regan the more. Her pulse quickened, and her mouth went dry. Then reason returned with a daunting rush.
    Her response was worse than ridiculous. It was daft. No matter how attractive or gentle natured he seemed, this man was a total stranger. She was alone and, for all practical purposes, at his mercy. Or leastwise, she grimly added, until her memory returned.
    “That was verra kind of ye to think of Jane’s comfort,” Regan said, casting about for some way to segue into the issue uppermost in her mind.
    “Why? Because she’s but a servant?” He shook his head. “Well, mayhap we do things a wee bit differently than some folk, but I find respect rendered is respect returned a hundredfold. And even if it weren’t, I try to remember that we’re all beloved by God and do my best to act accordingly. Not that,” he was quick to add, likely seeing the disbelief in her eyes, “I do all that well most times. But I keep trying, knowing the Lord sees my well-meant intentions and forgives my weaknesses.”
    This man was too good to be true. And she was used to a far different way of doing things. Yet, just as soon as the realization struck Regan, she stopped short. How was it possible she was so sure, when she had no memories to support it?
    An uneasy feeling filled her, and she firmly quashed it. The answers would come in time. In the meanwhile, she must get to the topic of the help she needed from him.
    “Aye, mayhap I am one of those folk who are used to a different way of doing things,”