Highland Wolf Read Online Free PDF Page A

well satisfied with whatever work he had accomplished.
    “I just need time and a wee bit of luck,” he whispered to himself as he studied the piece of wood, trying to decide exactly what sort of design he would carve into it.
    Just as he picked up one of the tools neatly laid out for his use, Big Marta stomped back into the room. She slapped down a tray of bread and cheese on the table and then looked at him. James felt a trickle of sweat go down his back as the woman stared right into his face, a gleam of amusement and satisfaction to see in her clear, intelligent eyes.
    “I am thinking ye will need your strength for what lies ahead, laddie,” she said and then marched out of the room again.
    James stared down at the tray of food and the tankard of ale. She knew; he had no doubt of that now. The question was, how did she know? He was sure his disguise was a good one. Big Marta had known him for a long time, but so had Edmund and Ida and they had thought his disguise a good one, too.
    “Best ye keep your gaze cast down a wee bit more, laddie. Them green eyes of yours be the sort a woman remembers.”
    He turned to look at Big Marta but only caught sight of a piece of her skirts as she disappeared back into her kitchens. James cursed softly. Obviously covering one eye with a patch was not enough. Now he was going to have to act shyly around any lass who tried to talk to him, at least the ones who had been at Dunncraig when he had been laird. When this was all over, his family would find that very amusing.
    He was going to have to pretend to be humble, even shy around women, unable to speak the language clearly, and reveal none of his love for his own child. He was also going to have to play the servant and one with an inclination to remain celibate. Add all of that to the fact that he could not simply kill MacKay as he ached to do but had to search out some proof of the man’s crimes, and James began to feel as if he had taken on a burden he could never carry far. He hoped he could prove his innocence quickly or he might be too maddened by all the games he had to play to care.

Chapter Three
    “What are ye doing?”
    James was glad he was not doing any carving at that precise moment. The sweet, high child’s voice was so familiar, and the sound of it so longed for, that he could easily have badly marred the huge piece of the mantel he was working on. Slowly, he turned to look at little Meggie and clenched his fists in an attempt to quell the fierce urge to brush the child’s thick, tousled curls off her face. He had been at Dunncraig for a full week and this was the first time Meggie had come near enough for him to talk to her.
    “I make the mantel for the fireplace, eh?” he replied.
    Meggie cautiously stepped into the room. The way she kept a wary eye on him made James’ heart ache. Meggie had always been a happy, trusting child. Life at the Dunncraig that Donnell MacKay had created had obviously taught his child fear and caution. The latter was something all children could afford to learn and learn well, but fear, especially while within the walls of her own home, was not. MacKay’s temper, the one the man revealed several times a day, had bred that fear in Meggie as it had in so many others at Dunncraig. James had no doubt about that and he added that to the long list of crimes Donnell MacKay had to pay for.
    “I am carving the mantel to put in the lord’s bedchamber, oui? ” he repeated when she just stood there and frowned at him.
    “Oh, I understood ye, sir, e’en though ye do talk a wee bit odd, aye? Nay, I was just wondering why Sir MacKay wants ye to do that. He has one now, doesnae he? He doesnae need another one.” Meggie inched closer to the wood James had been working on. “’Tis verra pretty.”
    “You are much kind.” He smiled when she giggled and then he clasped his hands behind his back to resist the urge to hug her. “Why do you say Sir MacKay? Is he not your papa?”
    “He tells