Highland Hope (Wild Thistle Triology Book 1) Read Free Page B

spell of compliance and then stolen their cods?
    “Ah, Father, I’ve mucked it up.”
    “That ye have, lad.”
    Aidan spun toward the voice.
    “Turn toward the wall, lad.”
    He waited for an interminable moment, then curiosity had him obeying the request.
    “Ye’ve been summoned, that be true. Doona be quick to show yer innocence to Laird MacAlister.” The voice sounded as if it were living within his head and the speaker breathing down his neck. “She’s a wily lass and we’ve plans to be rid of her.” 
    Be rid of her? Aidan scowled at the ominous words. What ‘twould be the purpose? Worse yet, how ‘twould it be done?
    “If ye continue to act in our stead,” the voice continued, “you’ll gain rewards far past what you now seek. Especially when she asks for yer hand in marriage.”
    He scoffed and started to turn toward the voice. Marriage? To her? Nay, he wanted a wife who was sweet, soft, obedient, not the harridan he’d seen in the bailey.
    “Stay as ye are, lad.”
    Aidan stilled and said, “And the laird? How do you ken she’ll be asking for my hand?” He tried to keep a rein on his anger, but it spilled over and coated his words with scorn. Marriage ? To that woman? Again he thought he’d rather be with a maidservant than married to a woman of such power. Someone humble, loving, not apt to run him through with her sword.
    “She’ll come to ye. O’ this I’m certain. Remember the rewards you seek.” The man chuckled. “The rewards that were stolen from yer father and you.”
    His da. Aye, the man had suffered. It seemed this mysterious guest had him tightly by the stones. “How did you know where we were?”
    The man gave a raspy laugh. “I’ve always kenned where ye were.”
    Why didn’t he send the letter before his father died? Rage filled him. “You never wanted my father as laird,” he accused.
    “After yer mother, the council decided to let yer father leave.”
    Aidan clenched his fist. Anger, nay, fury filled him so much it nearly blinded him. “He died with regret in his heart, a hunger to be laird like no other hunger I’ve ever seen.” All the pain for naught. Bollocks , such a waste.
    And now the council wanted him to do their bidding?
    “You’re to be laird. Remember that, MacKerry. To make up for yer father.”
    He rubbed the back of his neck as he faced the back wall of the cell. He clenched his fist. He wanted to punch the stone wall. They’d been used.
    And now he was going to be the one in charge, the one who used the council and even Laird MacAlister to get his boon.
    As I pledge .
    “We need ye as laird. The clan needs ye.”
    He was needed—they needed him. He’d have to accept the stranger’s words. He wouldn’t trust them, to be sure. But if he could gather more information, have the council share their plans, he’d be able to ensure he’d be laird.
    “Warn her, and you’ll find yerself in the ground next to her, ye ken?”
    Aidan nodded, but of course he promised nothing. The temptation proved too strong and he turned. Gripping the bars, he cursed when he couldn’t discern a figure in the shadowy alleys of the dungeon.
    He’d have to do as they wanted. For now.
    He’d also stay far away from the Laird of Clan MacAlister. Even as Aidan tried to visualize her, his mind wrenched out of his control and thought back to his wedding day. The day wrought a host of painful memories, almost unbearably humiliating.
    Standing there, facing the crowd of well-wishers, waiting for his bride to walk down the kirk aisle and profess her love before the priest—
    Nay, he thought, gaining control of the errant reverie. Aidan leaned his head against the cold iron he clasped near to crushing. How long would the tumultuous past of his family haunt him?
    He spat on the ground as a talisman of his determination to make Clan MacAlister pay. No matter if the current laird attempted to stand in his way.
    She’d suffer, just as his father had, just as he had.
    As I