Highland Spitfire Read Online Free PDF

door. It made a grinding sound when she turned it.
    Ailis looked down at the two guards waiting behind her. They wore breastplate armor
     and helmets, and each one had a sword and a smaller black-powder gun. They inclined
     their heads before looking away because she wasn’t dressed. The Head of House had
     brushed out her hair and put the wreath back on her head before deeming her ready
     to meet her groom.
    He wasn’t that.
    Bhaic MacPherson wasn’t going to be her husband. Yet it appeared that they would have
     to share a chamber for the night. Try as she might, Ailis couldn’t stop her heart
     from racing at the thought.
    But the Head of House took her into the chamber, and Ailis froze when she saw the
     earl sitting in a chair next to the bed.
    “The bride, at last.” He motioned to the Head of House. “Remove that chemise. I will
     bear witness to her health myself.”
    * * *
    Ailis felt as if her lungs had frozen. She needed to draw breath but couldn’t. She
     was locked in the horror of the moment, unable to look away from the hard conviction
     in the earl’s eyes. Unable to recall how certain she’d been that everything would
     be righted by the next day.
    The reason was simple. She had to deal with the present first, and the Earl of Morton
     was a harsh reality indeed.
    “Ye’ll do no such thing,” a male voice said.
    Her deliverance had come at the hands of Bhaic MacPherson. She was hugging herself,
     intent on keeping the chemise on as the Head of House tried to comply with her master’s
     order. But she was also trying not to stare at Bhaic MacPherson.
    He was stripped to his shirt and boots, the edge of the shirt falling to just above
     his knees. She stared at his groin, unable to help herself, but the dark room didn’t
     allow her to see anything.
    Bhaic stepped in front of the woman and pointed her toward the doorway they’d entered
     the chamber through.
    “Did ye bathe me bride?” he asked.
    The Head of House lowered herself. “Aye, Laird.”
    “In naught but her skin?” he pressed while Ailis felt her cheeks burn.
    “Indeed.”
    He grasped Ailis by the upper arm and sent her toward the large bed.
    “With other experienced women in attendance?” Bhaic continued.
    “That has naught to do with my request,” the earl interrupted. “I’ll see the wench
     for myself, so there will be no cry from your father that the girl is unfit for marriage.”
    Bhaic pointed the Head of House toward the doorway again, and she took the opportunity
     to hurry out of the chamber.
    “Ye’ve had yer way enough today, Lord Morton.” Bhaic faced off with the man. “Ye will
     nae be looking on me wife.”
    “This marriage will stand, or I will return with enough soldiers to destroy your clan.”
    “I’ve heard enough threats out of ye too,” Bhaic informed the earl. “Ye have no guards
     here.”
    The earl stood and grinned unpleasantly. “Thinking of trying me, Highlander? You might
     find it harder than you think to choke the life out of me.”
    Bhaic smiled menacingly. “The only thing I’m worried about is that I might enjoy it
     and have to account for it to St. Peter someday.”
    The two men began to circle each other. Bhaic moved toward her and slapped her bottom.
     “Get up on the bed, lass, so ye’re out of the way.”
    Her cheeks were on fire now, an instant reaction to the idea of climbing into the
     large bed at Bhaic’s command.
    He’d be a demanding one in bed, for certain.
    The thought was misplaced. It was also exciting, if she was willing to admit it. Which
     she wasn’t. But she climbed onto the bed. The mattress was filled with goose down
     and the sheets scented with expensive ambergris, but she was focused on the two men
     glaring at each other.
    “My guards are below”—the earl spoke softly, ominously—“with their muskets aimed at
     your father’s heart. If I don’t return, they have orders to fire.”
    Bhaic only grinned in the face of the earl’s