Highland Wedding Read Free

the situation but had decided to forbear. It was far past time she had a husband. Coming to court allowed a greater choice. She simply wished the choice would be more in her hands than it would be.
    The resentment that tried to gnaw at her was fairly easily put aside. This was the way such matters were settled. She was grateful she had not been betrothed at cradleside. There had been the opportunity for her to find a man and there were plenty to choose from around home. When she had reached the age of nineteen still unattached, it was no surprise that her father would take matters into his own hands. She could not blame him for that. Even if she did not really agree with his methods, she knew he was doing it out of love, because he wanted to see her happy. The political, defensive or monetary arrangements that could come out of her betrothal were only pleasant additions, not necessities. Glancing towards her father, who was talking to Meg, she hoped he would give her some pleasant surprise in his choice of groom that would ease the sting of not having Iain MacLagan.
    “The lass has an eye for Sir Iain MacLagan,” Meg informed Alaistair MacRoth at the very first opportunity. “Do ye ken the mon?”
    “Aye.” Alaistair adjusted his long, broad-shouldered frame more comfortably upon the bench. “Widowed for o’er a year. Said he is still grieving sore as he doesnae pursuethe lasses, doesnae show an interest in them at all. Said he is cold, that his emotions lie with his late wife. Be a good match, for the land Islaen would bring him lies near his kin, but I cannae think there will be any move made there.” He frowned at his cousin. “Are ye sure? ’tis a hard face on the mon that isnae helped by that gruesome scar etched upon his cheek.”
    “The lass claims ye hardly see it, ’tis a mere nick. Cast an eye on your wee daughter, cousin, and watch where her eyes linger.”
    It was an easy thing to confirm, for Islaen’s whole face radiated her admiration for the man who sat at the king’s table. She would seem to come to her senses, conceal the look and act nonchalant, but it did not last long. Within moments her control slipped again.
    “Och, weel, I will give it a try but I cannae think it will lead anywhere. ’Tis said that a murderer stalks him, a mon who blames him for the death of Catalina, his late wife. Some old lover, I would wager. Could be he takes no wife for fear she will soon be made a widow.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his graying auburn hair. “Still, best she be happy for a short while than unhappy for a long while. If ye can, turn her eye to Ronald MacDubh. That mon is godson to the king and he has expressed an interest in our Islaen.”
    “Ye mean in her purse. Coin flows through his hands like water, hands that cannae keep off o’ the lasses.”
    “He is young and nay hard to look upon. He is also close to the king. After him they grow older and less fair to the eye. There are too many full-bodied women about. The young men want a wife that willnae be lost beneath the covers, some curves to hold.”
    Alaistair wished his words were not true but, though Islaen’s dowry put many men to thinking, there was money and land to be found in other places. So too would there be some flesh to hold onto and make a soft bed with. Delicacy of looks only aroused brotherly feelings when it was unaccompanied by full breasts and well-rounded hips. Their eyes would light up over the dowry, only to flicker and die when they closely observed what went with it. What interest could be stirred was not held long. A little less dowry for a lot more woman was a sacrifice most of the young men were willing to make.
    Islaen had not expected much interest, so was not disappointed when there was so little. Her menfolk did all the work while she entertained herself watching Iain MacLagan. Assuming that her family would soon find her a husband, she decided that she should soak up as much about the man as she