Highland Sons: The Mackay Saga Read Online Free PDF Page A

winter.
    “We’re not sure.” Kenzie recognized jealousy; she’d seen enough of it from village women. Which man here did Maggie think of as her own? Whichever one, Kenzie had best avoid him.
    Maggie’s attention shifted, her eyes narrowing as she assessed someone behind Kenzie.
    “And I’d thought not to see you again.”
    Kenzie whipped around at the sound of the oily voice. The Witch Pricker. What would he be doing here?
    The witch hunter smiled and inclined his head. “I see you remember me. Good. And from what I overheard, you’ll be staying a while. How fortunate. Laird Mackay has also offered me his hospitality.”
    Cold enveloped her, and she smoothed her skirt against her thigh. How could Bane have allowed a man like this to stay under his roof? Didn’t he realize the trouble he could cause? “I doubt we will have the opportunity to get to know one another. Lady Mackay has asked us to help restore the gardens.”
    “Very considerate of you. But, surely your evenings will be your own. I look forward to spending time with you.”
    “If you’ll excuse me. My mother needs help unpacking our things.” She brushed by him and headed up the stairs to the solar.
    “Until later then.”
    The witch picker’s voice trailed after her as she ascended the stairs. Her plan to avoid Bane for the next few days had seemed so simple. Now she’d have to search the laird out, and find some way to convince him that Robert McGown couldn’t stay. If he did, she had no doubt there would be trouble. Bane thought he controlled his clan, but he’d never seen peaceful villagers turn into a superstitious mob.
    She had.

Chapter 4
    Kenzie searched the training field in the dim light of the new day. Was Bane wont to practice this early? She’d not slept much last eve and hoped to speak with him at his morning meal, but he’d already left.
    Flashes of red and blue swirled as the men’s kilts danced with each parry and thrust of their deadly short swords. Mist curled around their ankles, giving the impression that they were not of this earth. Only the clanging of the weapons could be heard in the still morning, adding to the eerie effect.
    Kenzie swallowed. Men or no, she needed to speak with Bane. Unease nipped at her like a wildcat herding her kitten. She’d not remain here with McGowan at the castle.
    In spite the confusion on the field, Bane’s imposing form drew Kenzie’s gaze. His large frame and regal bearing left no doubt about his role as leader.
    He stood near a stone wall that edged the practice area, and appeared to be in earnest conversation with two of his men. Though they were at the far end of the field, she still made out the downward turn of his brows. Mayhap this wasn’t the best time to speak with him, but she didn’t dare tarry. Her mother agreed that if McGowan stayed, they should depart by mid-day.
    As she made her way along the outside edge of the wall, one of the fighting men glanced in her direction. His opponent chose that moment to advance. The blade’s tip swept across the distracted man’s chest, cutting through his white shirt. With a yell, the victim jumped back. Too late. His eyes were wide as he glanced down at the drops of blood and slash in his clothing.
    The fighting stopped.
    Bane strode across the field, his kilt slapping his knees in his haste. He stopped a few feet from the skirmish. “McAdam, what were you about? Your like to get yourself killed.”
    Everyone followed the injured man’s gaze as it came to rest on her. If Bane’s expression had been unhappy before, it grew thunderous before he turned back to his clansman. “It takes but a comely lass to bring you to your knees?” Bane clenched his hand over the hilt of the sword at his waist. “Sutherland and his clan need only send out their prettiest lasses to defeat us?”
    McAdam’s petulant voice carried across the field. “She’s more than a beauty. She draws a man’s eye like a bee to honey.”
    “‘Tis dead