Highland Harmony: Avelina and Drew (Clan Grant Series Book 8) Read Free Page A

ornery, lad. My thanks.”
    Drew spun on his heel, waved, and continued on toward the stables.
    As soon as he arrived, the stable lad tore over to him. “Drew, I’ll get your horse ready for you.”
    Drew waved at the lad. “I’ll handle it.” He saddled his horse, and not long after, he and Boyd were mounted and heading out toward the area where the guards practiced. He had pushed the lads hard since the skirmishes, and he was proud of all they had accomplished. His sire followed at a distance—he could hear him yelling about something, but he wasn’t interested in stopping to see what.
    By the time they reached the field, Drew’s father was close behind them, so Drew moved aside until his father drew up next to him. The men stopped practicing and awaited their orders. He glanced at his sire’s weathered face. The laird had fought many battles, but he no longer had the strength of years past. His tales had been told so many times that most of the clansmen already knew them by heart, but they would still politely wait for him to finish.
    A guard strode up to them and asked, “Drew, what move do you want us to practice today?”
    Drew glanced at his father, but the older man just nodded for him to respond. He gave his instructions and dismounted. As he made his way onto the field, one guard after another ran to his side to speak with him.
    “Drew, you should see how well Donnal did today. He’ll be strong enough to fight with us the next time.”
    Another lad made his way up to him and said, “Menzie, we had five men against the winners from yesterday, and we trounced them.”
    Drew looked at Boyd and grinned. He had initiated a competition of strength to fire the lads up, and it seemed to be working. He patted the guard on the shoulder, but didn’t stop as he continued toward his sire’s second-in-command. He’d hoped his father would have given him that job, but Egan had been with his sire forever.
    “Menzie, these new swords you had the smithy craft are easier to handle. How’d you know?” Egan shouted at Drew. “Brilliant design.”
    His father shouted, “Aye, I told Drew ‘twas the way I wanted them.”
    Drew whirled around to stare at his father, who was still ahorse. He’d had no say at all about the swords, but now he was taking credit for that, too? Boyd gave Drew a pointed look, but continued over to a group of lads in the lists.
    Aye, ‘twas past time for Drew to get away for a while.
    ***
    Lachlan Burnes flicked the reins of his horse, urging the beast to a gallop across the meadow just outside his sire’s castle. He was eager to escape his mother’s latest foul-mouthed assault.
    He headed straight for his favorite place—his hideaway. The area he’d found was quite hidden, which was why he held it in such favor. He could curse, yell, holler, and throw rocks to his heart’s content—or his temper’s content, which was the case more often than not. When his mother and father got into their ritual insulting game, throwing every mistake he’d ever made since he was ten summers at him, he’d learned to leave as soon as possible. He’d heard all the insults before. There was no reason for him to stay to hear a repeat performance. As added entertainment, his parents had a cruel way of inciting the clansmen to chant insults at him when they joined the Burnes family in the great hall for the meal. They’d do anything at all if given enough mead.
    He knew when he was almost at his special spot because the terrain became more and more laden with rocks. It was a small glen between two walls of solid rock—one much shorter than the other, which appeared to climb into the sky. Stones and moss were everywhere, and enough rubble tumbled from the walls that he didn’t dare take his horse all the way in, choosing instead to tie him to a bush in the surrounding area. In all likelihood, that’s why everyone else stayed away.
    Once he had dismounted and hooked the reins over the branch of a nearby