Margo Maguire Read Free Page A

never receive much male attention. She’d seen the other lasses, some much younger—Kyla and Anna, for instance—who never failed to capture the wandering gazes of every man they passed, both married and bachelor.
    ’Twas one more reason to despise Anna MacIver.
    To make matters worse for Catrìona, she was the laird’s daughter. What man would look at her with the same kind of admiring eyes that followed Anna MacIver, knowing he would have to answer to her father, the laird?
    None of the island men were suitable candidates for marriage, and the one time her father had actually sought a proper husband for her had been a disaster. Catrìona would rather have had no husband at all than the waster from the Isle of Lewis he’d invited to court her.
    The man had been as ugly as he’d been useless, and had seemed to think he deserved better than Catrìona.
    Aye, well, she’d found a strapping young lad to her liking, a sailor from the ship that had brought her would-be suitor from Lewis. She’d had her way with the fellow, and he’d discovered that she might not have had the comeliest face or form, but she’d been entirely female.
    And Catrìona had discovered everything that had been missing in her life, but her pleasure had been short-lived. When her lover had set eyes upon Anna MacIver, he’d forgotten all about Catrìona MacDuffie.
    L achann and his men returned to the pier, where several long, low boats were docked. They were fishing birlinns with their sails down and heavy nets stowed tightly in their hulls.
    The birlinns were not fighting vessels, and Lachann didn’t intend to use them as such. His own brigantine was outfitted with four guns and would likely be able to ward off a sea attack, unless she happened to be outnumbered. Then Kilgorra would need land fighters—an army of well-trained, well-armed men to defend against a raid on land.
    Lachann thought it unconscionable for such a rich isle to be without defenses. Word was that MacDuffie had grown old and feeble, even as Kilgorra’s distillery had become increasingly productive and known far and wide for its fine whiskey. Traders came to the isle specifically for it, and Lachann suspected that if any powerful chieftain decided to invade and take control, Laird MacDuffie would have no choice but to yield.
    The old laird had welcomed Lachann’s proposal for developing a defense for the isle, and if Catrìona accepted him as her husband, Lachann would eventually become laird in MacDuffie’s place. ’Twas yet another very good reason for coming to Kilgorra. The chance for Lachann to become laird of his own realm.
    A few years ago, his brother Dugan’s gamble had made his family and his clan wealthy. Aye, Lachann had been part of that venture and had shared in the treasure they’d found. But Lachann intended to distinguish himself in his own right. As laird of Kilgorra, he would do exactly that, even though leaving Braemore, leaving his kin and clan, was the most difficult thing he had ever done.
    Lachann’s men were at work unloading their horses and all the equipment they’d brought—weapons and gunpowder—from the Glencoe Lass . Lachann mounted his horse, and while he waited for Duncan and Kieran to do the same, he looked up toward the castle where his fate awaited him.
    He hoped Catrìona was at least beddable. He had no need of a great beauty to bear his children—only an honest wife who understood the requirements of their clan. ’Twould not be amiss if his future wife had a deep concern for her people—the way the fair young woman at the healer’s cottage had cared for her injured friend.
    ’Twas a most attractive trait, mayhap even more than her comely features or the pale golden hair she’d tied into a thick plait down her back. Lachann chose to ignore the pull of attraction at the thought of her blue-green eyes and her clear, sun-kissed skin. He’d sworn off beautiful women after Fiona. He’d learned the hard way they were more