The Highlander's Runaway Bride Read Free Page A

MacKay, Morag Munro.’ Rob stood once more as the woman approached them now.
    â€˜My lady,’ he said with a bow of his head. ‘A pleasure to meet you.’
    â€˜Was your journey pleasant?’ she asked, sitting on a chair across from her husband.
    The journey again. Would the weather be next?
    â€˜Longer than I expected, my lady.’ He kept his tone polite and tried not to let his suspicion enter it.
    â€˜These storms have been unusual.’
    Rob nodded, smiled and drank from his cup, unable to speak in that moment. Something was amiss here.
    Granted, he spent the first week of his journey being angry and cursing his fate. Well, cursing his best friend’s high-handed method of seeing to his life and future. And cursing his own inability to simply refuse. Mayhap the storms had been the Almighty’s way of slowing him down so that his eventual acceptance of this arrangement would happen before his arrival in Tongue?
    And he had accepted the inevitable of this situation.
    Until now.
    He had not lived this long without a healthy amount of suspicion in his blood, without knowing when to look for more or without knowing to respect the feeling in his gut when it told him of danger. Or betrayal. He’d survived and protected Brodie’s life by understanding the signs.
    Something was wrong here.
    Rob searched for any sign of treachery and found none. The usual tasks and chores he would expect in a keep this size went on around him. Other than several guards posted at the doorway and one closer to the laird, he saw no increase in defence around the hall. Yet...
    â€˜Your belongings have been taken to your chamber, sir,’ the lady said now. ‘If you have need of anything before our evening meal, simply ask one of the servants.’
    Rob stood as the lady did, understanding he’d been dismissed from their company, even if the laird remained in his chair watching them silently.
    â€˜Lady,’ he said, with a bow. ‘I appreciate your hospitality and look forward to speaking more at the evening meal.’
    With another bow to the MacKay, he followed the servant off as he was clearly meant to do. Rob paused as they turned the corner down a corridor and glanced back at the laird and his lady. He found them watching him.
    Oh, aye, something was amiss here. Now all he had to do was discover what it was. Suddenly, his reluctance over this match seemed the sensible approach after all.
    * * *
    The next hours passed slowly as he waited for darkness to fall and dinner to commence. He unpacked his clothing and found the two gifts he’d brought for the MacKay daughter: a book of prayers—from Arabella’s own collection—and a silken scarf—suggested by his sister. Lady Eva MacKay was well educated, according to Arabella, so the book should be appreciated. But, as Margaret had pointed out, a lass was still a lass and a lass liked something pretty, too. Hence the pale blue scarf.
    A servant knocked on his door and invited him below, so Rob followed, observing the others who preceded and followed him as much as he could. Other than a few furtive glances, ones not unusual when seeing a stranger in their midst, he noticed nothing else. His presence would have been known by now and his position as the emissary of the Mackintosh would assure polite if not deferential treatment.
    The hall filled with kith and kin and Rob was led to the front table and a seat waiting next to the MacKay. Strangely, there was no other open place, and his intended was not yet present.
    â€˜Lady Eva?’ he asked after bowing and taking his place.
    â€˜I must beg your pardon, sir—’ Lady MacKay began.
    With a curt wave of her husband’s hand, her words and nearly her breath were cut off.
    â€˜When you did not arrive as expected, my daughter asked permission to visit her cousin until you did. I have sent word, and she should arrive back here by midday on the morrow,’ the