Highland Dragon Read Free Page A

missives, there were six sisters in all.
    Kendrick’s color turned red, his nostrils flared, and his pose took on the stance of an angered warrior. Calin suspected he would lose this battle just as Kendrick dove at him. Calin held one hand out as a shield, but Kendrick twisted that arm behind him. Within a blink, Kendrick cradled Calin’s head in the crook of his arm, constricting the air in his throat.
    “Ye be on Kinnon soil, mon, and it would take verra little to snap your wee neck between my brawny arms.”
    His comment was delivered with such force Calin couldn’t help but laugh at the man.
    Kendrick leaned to the side to study him. “Are ye addlebrained, mon? Mayhap a wee bit light in the head?” Kendrick released him with a forceful shove into a bed of prickly pine needles.
    From a squatting position, Calin offered him a crooked, ornery grin. “Ye wound me, Kendrick. Ye’d forget the face of an auld friend?”
    “I’ll rot in Hell afore I claim a mon who attacks me from behind as a friend.” Kendrick’s burr lifted with his agitation while his arms crossed stubbornly over his broad chest.
    Brushing pine needles from his bare thighs, Calin stood, wrinkled his nose, and sniffed the air in jest. “Ye reek like two-day-old haggis, but not rotten yet.”
    Kendrick eyed him warily. His jaw tilted.
    Calin couldn’t stop the smug grin from lifting his lips while he waited for Kendrick to recognize him. After all, a decade had passed since last they’d seen each other.
    Only seconds later, Kendrick pummeled him to the ground in a roar of merriment. “Ye randy, pigheaded, arrogant, wee bastaird , ye, Calin MacLeod.”
    Calin wrestled with the giant in a heap of fists and feet. He took three blows. One to his nose, the other two connected with his ribs. Eight and twenty was too old for such frivolous horseplay, especially on his wedding day.
    Kendrick pinned him. “Ye concede, mon?” he asked an instant before Calin straddled him.
    “Nay. ’Tis my turn to win.”
    But Kendrick didn’t accept defeat. They rolled in a tangle of limbs, both bleeding from the nose, knuckles maimed and raw, and bare knees in much the same state. Sprawled on his back, Calin clutched his bruised ribs, now suffering from his laughter.
    “’Tis been too long, MacLeod,” Kendrick said with a bit of resentment in his voice. “Far too long.”
    “I could’ve gone another decade without seeing your ugly puss.” Flashing a smile, Calin struggled to his feet then extended a hand to his friend.
    “’Tis time?” Kendrick asked.
    “Aye. I met with the Donalds on the Sabbath. They’re in agreement. Laird Kinnon’s throng of thieving warriors has stolen the last of my chattel. Laird Kinnon has made many enemies over the years. No one will aid him in protecting these borders if the English invade our coastal waters.”
    “Then we gather the Isle’s council and Laird Kinnon will reign nay more. And Clan Kinnon will be cleansed of his bloodied hands. I’ll send a spit-boy to ride with the torch at twilight and gather the rebels. When do ye wish to meet?”
    “Soon, Kendrick. Soon your laird will pay for his crimes against both of us.” Calin clapped Kendrick on the back, grateful he remained dedicated to their cause. So many years had passed since they’d stumbled into each other in the pitch-black caverns beneath Brycen Castle. They’d bonded in secrecy knowing they were supposed to be enemies, but they had wanted the same thing—an alliance.
    Pulling back a pine branch, Calin peeked at the bevy of beauties skipping around the waterfall. In their gaiety, they twirled and danced, dragging the hems of their kirtles through the water. He couldn’t contain his enthusiasm. Eighteen years had passed since he’d entrusted Kendrick with his wee bride, and by dusk he had every intention of taking the lass back to Cànwyck Castle and making her his wife. He prayed he could look upon her face and just see a woman, and not the daughter