To Desire a Highlander Read Free

strength.
    She took a deep breath, pretended to smooth the folds of her cloak so she could touch the small, heavy pouch hidden beneath her skirts.
    “I will greet Donell MacDonnell as is expected of me.” She forced the words, her hand resting on her secret treasure. “I shall take his measure then, and no’ before.”
    “I am glad to hear it.” Gowan sounded relieved.
    Gillian didn’t say that she already knew how the dice would fall.
    She’d seen the hunger in Donell’s eyes the day of their betrothal ceremony.
    To be sure, he’d looked at her in lust. Even young and innocent as she was, she’d recognized the male need burning in his gaze.
    More than that, she’d seen the blaze of greed.
    However much she might have pleased him, her father’s riches, so proudly displayed in Castle Sway’s great hall, had impressed him more.
    Donell MacDonnell desired coin above all else.
    The knowledge helped her summon a smile. “All will be well.” She reached to squeeze her brother’s arm, hoping to reassure him. “But I would like to be alone now. I need the fresh air and sea wind to prepare myself to meet my future husband. You surely understand?”
    Gowan looked at her sharply, perhaps not so easily fooled as she’d thought. Then he stepped back and flashed a grin, once again seeming relieved.
    “As you wish.” He glanced off into the distance, toward the still-empty horizon. When he turned back to her, he leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “Dinnae think you’ll e’er be alone, lass. Your brothers and I sail past here often enough. We’ll look in on you, make certain the MacDonnell is treating you right.”
    “I know you will.” Gillian didn’t doubt him.
    She just wished she’d be sailing with them, as she’d done so often in years past. They even praised her, claiming no one beat the ship’s gong better, that her rhythm surpassed that of any seaman in these waters.
    When need arose, she’d even taken the great steering oar.
    Sailing the seas with her brothers let her spirit soar, was an exhilarating freedom she loved and needed. Never had she dreamed she wouldn’t accompany them, but would only see them plying the waves, flashing across the shining waters to watch over her, ensuring her well-being.
    In her new life as bride to a man she found repulsive.
    But she loved her brothers, especially Gowan. So she sought to ease his concern. “I know you’d never fail me, none of you.”
    “I am glad to hear it.” Gowan nodded once, then reached to pat her shoulder comfortingly before he turned and started back up the steep cliff path.
    Gillian watched him go, her hand still on her hidden treasure. She rubbed the lumpy pouch, grateful for its bulk and weight. The silver coins and cut-up brooches it held. The armlets and rings she’d gathered with care, ancient bits and pieces of a Viking hoard her great-great-grandfather had discovered buried in a riverbank, in his youth. Riches well preserved in a lead-lined chest.
    The portion in her leather pouch was all that she could claim.
    Her share was enough, she was sure.
    Wealth untold, which she hoped would buy her freedom.
    She wouldn’t be given to a man she abhorred, whatever tradition and duty demanded of her.
    Resolve cloaked her like a shield and she could feel her pulse slowing. The racing of her heart returned to a strong, steady beat as she pushed her worries away. Her breath came easier and the cold began to leave her bones. She was strong and brave, courageous. She wasn’t called the Spitfire of the Isles for nothing.
    She’d stand against Donell MacDonnell.
    She’d walk away the victor. The silver in her secret pouch would pave the way for her escape.
    But then, as if the gods resented her boldness, the wind quickened, blowing harder. The gusts shrieked, whipping her hair and tugging at her cloak. Not to be outdone, the sea rose, turning angry, as white-capped waves hissed past the rocks, flinging icy spray onto her. Salt stung her eyes and