A Highlander for Christmas Read Free Page A

say to the people of Camlochlin.”
    Leslie took a seat at her table and prayed that her brother showed gratitude to these people for their kindness. These were Highland men, not English. These were warriors, children of the ancient king of the Picts, Kenneth MacAlpine. They wouldn’t take kindly to cowards who ran at the first sign of trouble.
    And there was no reason to run. Her family would be safe here. No army would survive riding into Camlochlin with intentions of massacring its inhabitants for their religion.
    Andrew cleared his throat. Leslie closed her eyes.
    “My lord.” Her brother acknowledged the chief then waited while he regained his chair. “As the eldest of my family, allow me to express my gratitude to all of you for taking us in and giving us a safe haven despite the fact that we are Protestant. I know I speak for my family when I tell you all that Camlochlin has become our second home, but”—he dipped his gaze to his boots and cleared his throat again—“our first home awaits, and it is time we left.”
    Leslie’s gaze met Finn’s across the span of tables. She’d known the day would come when her brothers would want to leave this place, and now the day was upon her. Her stomach twisted into a painful knot. She wanted to stay, but Andrew would never allow it unless she was wed. Was that what Finn wanted to ask her later? To be his wife? Oh, she prayed it was. She would say yes, of course! She smiled at him across the crowded hall. She couldn’t wait to meet him later.
    “Ye’re always welcome here, Harrison,” the chief told him, rising to his feet once again and facing the crowd. “We hope ye’ll stay until the Twelfth Night and then I’ll see ye off with an escort to England.”
    “You have my thanks, Rob, but we’re not returning to England,” Andrew told him, surprising Leslie enough to drag her eyes from Finn to her brother. “And we already have an escort. James Douglas, Marquess of Dumfriesshire is going to meet us across the Narrows in Glenelg and then escort us to Dumfries.”
    What? Her family was returning to Dumfries? Leslie shot to her feet and tugged on her brother’s sleeve. She didn’t want to go back there. She didn’t care if the Stuart king was about to be deposed and they no longer had to fear what he might do to heretics next. Dumfries held bleak, dark memories she never wanted to return to. Her father had died there, along with dozens of others she knew, husbands, brothers, sons, and daughters. She didn’t want to go back there and she could only imagine her mother felt the same.
    “Brother, I would have a word. What does Mother—”
    “Later.” Andrew’s gaze warned her not to argue, at least not in the company of others. “Please return to your seat.”
    Leslie obliged, albeit with hands rolled into fists at her sides. They would speak later, all right.
    “Andrew.” Now it was Finn who stood from his chair. He glanced at his chief and then at her. When he did, his smile softened on her and seeped through her bones, making her smile back. “There’s something I’d like to ask of ye.”
    Leslie’s heart beat so frantically she feared it might break free of her ribs and fly straight into his hands. Was he going to ask for her now? She hoped so. She prayed so. She loved him. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, here in Camlochlin.
    “Before you do—” Andrew held up his palm to stop him, but Finn hadn’t taken his eyes off her, so he didn’t see. He obviously didn’t hear him either.
    “I know I’m not worthy of her, and there are likely many other men who could give her finer riches than I could, but I love yer sister and I—”
    “Finn, I must—” Andrew interrupted him again.
    This time, Leslie didn’t hold back and sprang to her feet. “And I love him!” She didn’t look at Andrew or Alan or anyone else but Finn. She wanted to laugh at the relief in his expression. Did he honestly not know how she felt all this