A Promise Given Read Online Free PDF

damp, rumpled gown.
    "Sabrina, you must dress! Papa expects us below-stairs soon for the evening
meal."
    "He is here?" Though she already knew the answer, Sabrina could not bring
herself to say his name.
    "Aye. And his cousin Alasdair arrived this afternoon as well.”
    “So you've seen him?"
    "Aye," Margaret affirmed briskly. "Now come, Sabrina. Hurry and dress."
    It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse—to retort that if she never saw Ian
the MacGregor again in this lifetime, it would not be too soon. Yet Margaret had
already opened the chest which held her gowns.
    "I am dressed," she grumbled.
    "You cannot wear that," Margaret tossed over her shoulder. "It looks like
you've been running through forest."
    Perhaps because I have
. Sabrina had to stop herself from blurting it
aloud.
    Margaret turned, a gown in each band. "Which will you wear, Sabrina? The blue
wool?"
    Sabrina pulled a face. "Nay, it’s too hot."
    “What, then? The crimson velvet?" Margaret raised  the gown high, then
made a disapproving sound as she spied a rip in one of the seams. "Sabrina!
You've not vet mended this!"
    Sabrina shrugged. Margaret was much more suited to such household tasks. She
held out her hand. Margaret sighed.
    “You will look little better than a beggar!"
    Sabrina smiled at her sister. "It matters little what I wear,”  she
teased. "All eyes will be upon you."
    Margaret denied it, but Sabrina could see she was pleased. Acknowledging that
she could not hide away forever, she dressed as quickly as she was able, then
plaited her hair into a single fat braid and let it hang down her back. As the
heavy door swung shut behind her, she fell into step behind Margaret. For the
merest instant, she envied the smooth, sleek coils wound on each side of
Margaret's head.
    The sounds of male voices soon reached their ears. Boisterous laughter could
be heard coming from the hall. As they drew ever nearer, Sabrina swallowed and
sought to ignore the cold lump of dread that lay like a stone in the pit of her
belly.
     Servants milled about, carrying platters of food to the table in the
center of the hall. Thick, fat candles set upon spikes in the walls cast
flickering shadows all about. A fire crackled and burned brightly in the hearth.
It was there that her father stood between Ian and the man she surmised was his
cousin Alasdair. Sabrina's eyes widened. Her father was not a small man, neither
in girth nor height, yet he seemed nearly dwarfed by the two Highlanders; they
towered over him, making him appear small, almost feeble.
    Beside her, Margaret had glided to a halt. Lifting her pointed chin, she
cleared her throat.
    It was all that was needed to divert the attention of the three men.
    Margaret smiled and inclined her head in silent greeting.
    Sabrina yearned to sink through the floor to the earth below. Instead she
took a deep, settling breath while the trio crossed to where they stood.
    Ian murmured a greeting to Margaret—and then his gaze fastened on her.
"Sabrina! How good to see you again after so many years. You were… what?… but a
wee lass of twelve when last we saw each other, were you not?"
    His warm, lilting burr did not fool her. She gritted her teeth, even as she
forced her lips into a semblance of a smile.
    "Well, if it isn't the MacGregor himself." The bite in her tone was thinly
disguised. But by the saints above, she would not humble herself before him.
    But when she would have turned away from him toward his cousin, she suddenly
found her hand seized in a relentless grip. "Oh, come now," he proclaimed
heartily. "Such formality between childhood friends. Will you not bestow on me
some token of affection? After all, we've not seen each other these many
years."
    He mocked her—oh, but he mocked her most cruelly! His brashness sparked the
embers of her temper. She opened her mouth, only to catch Papa's scowl of
warning.
    "Nay? Mayhap later, eh?" His gaze dipped to the rounded neckline of