A Fire Within (These Highland Hills, Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

hustle
bustle. Servants hurried to and fro, some with trays of victuals
meant for the Great Hall, where they usually ate the supper meal,
and others with armloads of fresh, folded laundry or sheaves of
dried rushes to scatter on newly cleaned floors.
    Caitlin smiled. Anne had quickly grown into the efficient,
meticulous chatelaine that Kilchurn had lacked since the death
of Caitlin and Niall's mother now eight years past. But, even
more importantly, Anne had brought such joy not only to Niall
but to Kilchurn and its inhabitants as well.
    "That most pleasing smile on yer face ..." Darach chose that
moment to interject, dragging Caitlin from her contented thoughts.
"Dare I presume my company played a part in yer happiness?"
    She shot him a bemused glance as they walked the short
distance from the stairs to the healer's storeroom. "Hardly. My
thoughts weren't even concerned with ye." Then, realizing how
unkind her words may have sounded, she grinned a bit sheepishly. "No offense meant, of course."
    "No offense taken. I suppose I am, after all, hardly the sort to
interest a lass like ye."
    At that less than subtle attempt to garner a compliment, Caitlin
couldn't help but laugh. "If ye hope to interest any lass, much
less a lass like me, ye really must put some additional effort into
yer conversational stratagems. All but asking for flattery is hardly
the way to intrigue a woman."
    Darach arched a dark brow. "And do ye truly imagine that was
my plan? I'd have taken ye for a far more astute lass than that."
    His question gave her pause. If he hadn't been seeking a favorable reaction from her, what, indeed, was he about?

    "Well, playing games with me also falls far short of the mark."
Caitlin drew up at the storeroom door. "I've neither the time nor
the patience, so why don't ye just tell me what yer plan actually
was?"
    "To make conversation, of course. To get ye to talk with me.
How else is a man to learn more about a woman he finds verra
attractive on so many levels?"
    For once, Caitlin found herself short on words. Well, momentarily, at least.
    "Ye're quite the gallant, aren't ye?" she finally asked. "And I'll
wager, as well, that ye're used to having all the lasses swooning
at the verra sight of ye."
    He laughed, and the deep, rich sound sent a most involuntary
ripple of pleasure through her. "Not all of them, it seems."
    "Losing yer touch then, are ye?"
    "Evidently."
    She gave a derisive snort, turned, unlocked the storeroom
door, and walked in. That was her first mistake. Darach followed
her, closed the door behind him, and slid the interior bolt into
place.
    Caitlin set her bag on the table and began removing its contents. "And what do ye have in mind, to lock us both in like that?"
she asked, masking her rising apprehension with a false calm.
"Because I don't take ye for a fool, and the stone walls aren't so
thick that my cries for help wouldn't soon bring me aid."
    "Not to mention any unseemly conduct on my part would
besmirch the Highland code of hospitality," he added with a wry
twist of his lips.
    "Actually, I believe the expectation of hospitality falls primarily
on the host, not the guest."
    She began to replace the jar of marigold ointment, roll of
extra bandages, a bowl that held a small sponge, and her box
of surgical instruments, which-besides the needles and thread used to suture wounds, a cautery iron, a pair of shears, several
sizes of probes used to dig out arrows, pistol balls, and various
and sundry other objects that might penetrate the flesh-also
held several razor-sharp small knives. That box she put on a lower
shelf within easy reach, then turned to face him.

    "So, ye feel then, do ye, that the tragedy nearly a year and a
half past when the MacNaghtens turned on the MacNabs in their
own home didn't step outside the bounds of hospitality?"
    "Hardly. What the MacNaghtens did was reprehensible. Besides all the other despicable things they'd already committed, it