Blessing The Highlander Read Online Free PDF Page A

for his own father’s foolishness.
                 That was seven years past now. He was only three and twenty when he became laird. It was time to begin a bride search and get an heir. That was part of the reason for visiting his father’s friend, Laird Fraser. He had a strong clan. It was a shame that his daughters were so hard to gaze upon. They were pleasant enough. He could not fault them there… but he could not tolerate the thought of bedding one of them. He shuddered.
                 “Thinking about those Fraser lasses yet again,” Angus chortled taking a swig from his leather flagon. “They shore be a sight. Near scorched me eyes gazing upon ‘em.”
                 Garrick grinned at his cousin. “Aye, they were that. But I am thinking that someone else should be blessed with that sight...nae me.” His men laughed quietly behind him. He grew somber after a few moments.
                 Garrick glanced over at Angus as their horses plodded along the burn that ran the length of Brodie land north to south where it ultimately joined Fraser’s borders. His cousin was ten years his senior and captain of the guard. Garrick and he had been friends all their lives and he held him in high esteem.
                 “How did ye ken when ye had found the right woman, Angus? Was it a certain look? A touch? A smile?”
                 Angus grew serious. His brown eyes constantly alert in spite of the uisge beatha that he always had with him, softened in his red-bearded face. “Aye...and nae. Do nae misinterpret, Garrick. There was a powerful pull of those things. Nae other woman drew me like me Mary. But when I asked me self if I could live without her...that is when I kenned for certain. Cause the answer was always ‘nae’.” He slapped Garrick casually on the shoulder. “Doona fear, me Laird. Ye will find your woman. Just be sure ye do nae lose her.”
                 “Aye. I hope so.” He shook himself out of his reverie, studying his surroundings. He noted that it was getting late in the day, nearly gloaming, and they still had a day’s ride left to Brodie Castle. His black destriar, Cadence, tossed his head snorting, side-stepping as he got a whiff of blood on the breeze. His nostril’s flared as he pranced apprehensively beneath Garrick.
                 “Easy boy,” he murmured as he silently slide his claymore from its sheath on his back. Five more behind him followed suit. Two men in the rear slipped like ghosts into the thick growth of trees along the bank in opposite directions to flank them, if need be.
                 “What is it?”  Angus whispered as he drew close to his side.
                 “Cadence scents blood.” As they continued onward toward the bend, Garrick kept his eyes trained on the branches above him as Angus watched their sides.
                 “Laird Brodie!” shouted one of his scouts from round the bend. Garrick put his heels to his horse. He thundered around the copse of trees blinding him of the burn only to rein in his horse abruptly. Cadence reared whinnying his displeasure at the halt of his blood-lust.
                 He could not be certain of the sight before him. At the bottom of a steep cliff lay a palfrey with its head at an unnatural angle… obviously dead. What astounded him was a pack of wolves totaling about ten that defended the meal in spite of the fact that he and his men drew near to them. Most would have dispersed at the threat.
                 “My Laird!” one man cried in distress pointing beyond the steed toward the burn’s edge. Garrick’s stunned gaze snapped toward the bank spying a lone wolf looming near a motionless form laying on the muddy shore. He did not waver. Putting heel to horse, they attacked as one at the lone wolf. Within seconds Cadence was atop him pounding his hooves into the already lifeless animal.