Highland Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page B

framed her face in living fire. Ross saw naught else, not the ancient chapel awash in flickering candlelight nor the people gathered inside.
    He saw tongues of flame. He blinked again, and when he opened his eyes the flames had disappeared, and in their place stood his redheaded bride-to-be. Suddenly he recalled Gizela’s words and made a vow he intended to keep: He would not let the life force of Gillian’s spirit devour him.
    Ross’s eyes narrowed on Gillian as she slowly started down the aisle with her father. Halfway to the altar her steps faltered; at one point she stopped and looked beseechingly at Tearlach. His face set in grim lines, the MacKay tugged Gillian forward, until they reached the place where Ross awaited.
     
    Gillian was good and truly caught. She had tried every delaying tactic she knew of to stall the nuptials, but naught had worked. As a final act of defiance, she had wrapped herself in a MacKay plaid. Let Ross MacKenna make what he wanted out of her attire. With her father all but dragging her to a fate worse than death, Gillian knew there was no escape.
    Finally she found the courage to look directly at the MacKenna, and the rawness of shock made her heart constrict. She remembered his fierceness on the battlefield, but she had never seen him like this. Though his face was impassive and difficult to read, the intensity of his blue eyes made her flinch. Did he hate her as much as she hated him? Was he marrying her against his will? Did he want peace badly enough to take a wife he could never like, much less love? Did she want his love? That thought startled her.
    The expression in his eyes was a contradiction. She saw wariness, and beneath that a hint of admiration. For her? She doubted it. Then suddenly she was standing alone beside him. The priest cleared his throat.
    Taking her arm, Ross pinned Gillian to his side. Gillian flinched away from his touch and bared her teeth at him. Another act of defiance, she knew, would get her nowhere.
    She saw the MacKenna’s kinsman lean toward him and heard him whisper, “Did you see that, lad? Tis a match made in hell.”
    “I assure you I am up to the challenge, Uncle,” Ross whispered back.
    Ross glanced down at Gillian. While Gillian tried to ignore his handsome face, the compelling authority emanating from him directed her gaze to his other attributes. His broad shoulders and muscular torso stretched the material of his white shirt and black jacket, and his legs, sturdy as rowan trees beneath his tartan, were muscular extensions of his powerful body. His fancy sporran and the silver brooch studded with gemstones that held his plaid in place were tangible evidence of his high rank.
    The priest cleared his throat again, waiting for a sign to begin the nuptial Mass. She saw the MacKenna nod, and when the priest turned toward the altar, Gillian whispered, “I hate you, MacKenna.”
    Though the MacKenna appeared not to have heard, Gillian could tell by the spark of anger in his eyes and the sudden tightening of his fists that he had. Good! Now he knew exactly where they stood and how their marriage would proceed. No matter what her father had promised, she would never be a true wife to Ross MacKenna.
    The priest’s voice droned on. Gillian was wound so tight, she felt ready to explode. This couldn’t be happening to her. After what seemed like an eternity, the priest asked if she took Ross MacKenna as her husband. Her mouth clamped shut.
    “Answer him, lass,”Tearlach hissed from somewhere behind her.
    Gillian was aware of the MacKenna watching her, of her father and brothers behind her, and then she heard a voice at the back of the chapel shout, “Stop the wedding! Gillian MacKay is my betrothed; she canna legally wed another.”
    His eyes bulging, the priest looked up from the holy book. “Who challenges the legality of this marriage?”
    Gillian nearly fainted in relief when Angus Sinclair strode down the aisle. She would have run to him if the