Claimed by the Highlander Read Online Free PDF

I’m weary from battle and in no mood for hauling vegetables. So get down off there, woman. Don’t make me tell you again.”
    Gwendolen took careful note of the threatening message of command in his voice, and approached the edge of the dais. She stepped down, squared her shoulders, and stared up at him. He looked her over from head to foot, then leaped up onto the dais and strolled from one side to the other, as if he were taking measurements.
    Gwendolen remained silent while he seated himself in her father’s chair and lounged back comfortably, his long muscular legs stretched out in front of him. “Home at last,” he said.
    Again, he looked up at the MacEwen heraldry. He sat without speaking, and she knew he was pondering the future. Or perhaps recalling the past.
    She watched his face for some insight into his mood and intentions. Sitting there like a sprawling lion, he appeared in absolute control, with no doubt whatsoever in his mind that he was now Laird of Kinloch, and she was to be his obedient wife and servant.
    He was in for a rude awakening.
    “Where is your brother, Murdoch?” he asked. “Why is he not here to defend Kinloch and protect his people?”
    “He traveled abroad to visit Rome and educate himself. He believed a strong leader should be enlightened and knowledgeable about the world—an aspiration which I doubt you would understand. He left before my father died.”
    “But with your father’s death, why has he not returned?”
    She regarded Angus with steady eyes. “I am not certain he knows of it. We have dispatched a letter to him, of course, but have no way of knowing if he has received it. I am hopeful, however, that he will return any day. Perhaps unexpectedly.”
    It was an intentional strike at the Lion’s arrogance. She wished him to know that his victory this morning may have seemed effortless, but the MacEwens would not continue to be easy prey. He should be on his guard.
    Angus rested an elbow on the arm of the chair. “Will he be difficult?”
    “I hope so.”
    He studied her with careful scrutiny. “I suppose the real question is whether or not you will be difficult.”
    “Oh, definitely.”
    His brow furrowed with displeasure, and she regretted the brash reply, when she had come here to negotiate in a civilized manner. She half expected him to rise up out of the chair and show her the back of his hand. He continued, however, to sit calmly, relaxed, but with a focused expression that made her feel as if she were standing before him naked. Her cheeks flushed with heat.
    “Do you understand, lass, that I have already claimed you as my wife?”
    “I heard as much when you shouted my marriage proposal from the rooftops, instead of asking me directly.”
    He cocked his head to the side. “Do you wish me to get down on bended knee?”
    “Not particularly.”
    He nodded, as if he were reaching a number of conclusions about her character and temperament in these moments, based on her replies.
    He sat back. “Good, because I’m not the romantic sort.”
    “You don’t say. I am astonished.”
    There was a fluttering in the rafters above, and his eyes lifted. He caught sight of the tiny bird that had been nesting in the hall for as long as she could remember. It flew out the open arched doorway to the bailey.
    “No one has been able to get rid of that bird,” she told him. “Maybe you’ll have better luck. Or maybe the poor defenseless creature has just realized what calamity has befallen her home, and has finally flown the coop.”
    “We’ll see,” he replied, rising to his feet, as if he had grown bored of the conversation and had much more important matters to attend to.
    She hastened to step forward before he could dismiss her. “All that aside,” she blurted out, “I would like to negotiate the terms of my surrender.”
    His eyes settled upon her again and he spoke in a patronizing tone. “Your surrender…”
    “Aye. I told you I would resist you, and I will,