Highland Surrender Read Online Free PDF

the puffy clouds. A handful of boats floated on the loch’s surface, mere dots from this distance, and she couldn’t tell if they were moving.
    Her gaze followed the far shoreline until the loch came to a rounded tip. Smoke curled lazily from a cluster of structures tucked into the valley leading off from the bank. She couldn’t remember the name of the village—Glen . . . Glen-something-or-other. She studied how the bank curved back around, her gaze skimming over the few brown cottage roofs among the prevailing green on this side of the loch. A bucolic scene, like something from an Italian painting, but even more vivid, more lovely.
    Her gaze careened to a stop when it landed on the castle.
    “Camdonn Castle,” she murmured.
    Robert MacLean, still angry with her, still sitting like a statue behind her, didn’t respond.
    Sighing, she gazed down at the structures directly below them. Situated on a spit of land jutting into the loch, Camdonn Castle wasn’t just one building but many, all built from gray stone. With the loch serving as its moat and a solid rock wall barring entrance to the spit, it appeared more an ancient fortress than the glittering silver fairy-tale palaces she’d seen on the trip north from Hampshire. Camdonn Castle looked stony and cold, and altogether harsh .
    This cold, gray, awful place, this place that looked more like a medieval prison than a house . . . this was to be her home forevermore.
    A tremble resonated through her body. Was it her imagination, or did Robert MacLean’s arm tighten around her?
    They continued down the mountain in rigid silence. All along, the raw strength of Robert MacLean simmered behind her, and regret for her rash, childish outburst continued to bite through her like scampering mice.
    It was too late to take back what she’d said. She’d missed her opportunity to apologize, and she’d probably never see him again.
    As they descended to the entryway to the castle, Robert urged the horse into a trot. The animal obliged readily enough, probably anticipating the promise of oats and the release of the heavy weight from its back.
    A big, black, heavy iron gate rose from the sheer rock walls. A group of guards stood before it, eyeing them warily as they approached. When they recognized the man riding behind her, they called to Robert in Gaelic, regarding Elizabeth with an unfriendly glimmer in their eyes that curdled her stomach.
    Robert dismounted. Leading the horse by the reins, he walked the rest of the way. Elizabeth sat stiffly in the saddle, clutching the horse’s mane so hard her knuckles turned white, but remaining outwardly calm as she eyed the men with disdain.
    Robert cocked his head in her direction. He spoke in English, likely for her benefit. “This is Lady Elizabeth Grant, his lordship’s intended. I found her on the road.”
    The men glanced at her, then looked away, none of them offering a reasonable semblance of an obeisance. Elizabeth kept her expression even. A huge man with a pockmarked face and a red nose rattled off something in Gaelic.
    Elizabeth arched a regal brow at Robert. “Translate, please, Mr. MacLean.”
    “He says His Grace, your uncle, is here, but there’s been no sign of his lordship. They’re sending a party to search for him.”
    Elizabeth released a silent breath, and a shudder of alarm rippled through her body. She clenched every muscle to combat it, to remain outwardly serene. It was what she did best, after all.
    The gate swung open with a loud squeal.
    Without sparing another glance at her, Robert strode forward, leading the horse across the narrow length of the spit and then up a winding path to the castle grounds.
    People crowded the graveled courtyard in a disorganized mass. Men shouted orders, but nobody seemed to be listening, and Robert made a disapproving noise in his throat.
    As they approached, a group separated from the rest and rushed at them. Elizabeth immediately recognized her uncle’s fashionable white