Highland Angel Read Online Free PDF

Callum abruptly enter the hall and stride over to Moira’s side. He looked a child in the nightshirt he wore, his thin calves visible below the hem. The hot look of anger and suspicion in his green eyes and the knife he held stole away all hint of boyish innocence, however.
    “Ye didnae have to bring your knife, Callum,” Moira said. “They already have one to cut the bread.”
    “I wasnae looking to cut bread, lass,” Callum snapped. “Ye shouldnae be down here with this mon.”
    “He isnae a bad mon.”
    “Wheesht, how would ye ken that?”
    Moira looked at Payton for a moment, then looked back at Callum and shrugged. “His eyes. They dinnae look like my mither’s mon’s or Sir Rod’rick’s.” She looked back at Payton. “My mither is with the angels, like my brother. The angels willnae take me, will they?”
    “Nay, lass,” Payton replied. “I willnae let that happen. And,” he nodded toward Callum who had been unable to resist the food and was gnawing on a thick slice of bread, “ye have a fine protector in Callum.”
    “Aye.” Moira smiled at Callum. “And he has a big knife now.”
    “That he does,” agreed Payton. “Mayhap he would like to learn how to use it,” he said, fixing his gaze upon the boy.
    “I ken how to use it weel enough,” snapped Callum.
    “Ah, then ye dinnae need any training from Strong Ian.” Payton took a drink to hide his smile over the interest Callum was unable to hide.
    “Weel, there may be a trick or two the mon could show me.”
    “There may be.”
    “I will do some thinking on it.”
    “Verra wise.”
    “I have the wee ones to protect and all, ye ken.”
    “That ye do, lad, and to be alert to do that important job weel, ye need rest.” Payton stood up and, keeping his gaze fixed upon a wary Callum, helped Moira out of herseat. “I mean to seek my bed myself.” He was surprised at how touched he was when Moira slipped her tiny hand into his. “Ere ye slip back to your beds, I will show ye where the Lady Kirstie sleeps.”
    Payton could almost feel Callum’s watchful gaze as the boy followed him and Moira up the stairs to their bedchamber. The fact that Kirstie had given him her approval was obviously enough to stir a tiny spark of trust in Callum. It would require a lot of patience, but Payton was determined to keep that spark alive and make it grow. He knew one way was to accept the boy’s self-appointed role as protector of the wee ones. The fact that Callum had a cause, an obvious need to be an important member of this band of small survivors, could well help the child recover from all he had suffered. There would always be scars, but Payton was certain that strength and a restored pride in himself would help the boy more than anything else. Callum was a survivor, a fighter, and that was a characteristic Payton knew how to work with.
    He paused before Kirstie’s bedchamber and eased the door open so the two children could see that their lady was still near them, still safe. She was sprawled on her stomach on the bed, her slender body barely shaping the thick blankets covering her. Her face was turned toward them, one small fist resting near her mouth. Payton thought she looked like a child and wondered what there was about her that had made Sir Roderick unable to truly see her as one. At the tender age of fifteen she must have looked even more like a child, yet, despite his hopes, the man had apparently been unable to convince himself she was one when it was time to bed her. The few of Sir Roderick’s ilk Payton had been unfortunate enough to deal with, had all had wives and children, obviously able to act as a man despite the demons lurking within them. Perhaps, he mused, Sir Roderick’s demon had conquered him. Inwardly shaking his head over that puzzle, Payton silently shut the door and escorted the children to their own room.
    “Are ye going to fight Sir Roderick on the morrow?” Callum asked in a near whisper, pausing in the doorway