Highlander in Her Bed Read Online Free PDF

Scottish Diaspora in their millions, each one proud to the bone and ever yearning for their home glen."
    Percival Combe inclined his head. "Such a pull is strong, Miss McDougall. Even now, centuries after their day, the clans evoke deep emotions. To Lady Warfield, you were family. A MacDougall."
    Mara touched her fingers to her temples, her mind still flailing. "But surely she knew someone more appropriate?"
    "You were her choice." The solicitor leaned toward her, his blue gaze capturing her, roping her in. "She was the last surviving descendant of the clan's original chieftain, and she died childless. Under other circumstances, she would have surely selected a suitable heir from her family's clan society. But through her marriage to Lord Basil, she'd alienated herself from the lot of them."
    He sat back. "And that, my dear, is where you come in."
    "You mean what I must do to make this happen."
    "A stipulation, yes." He cleared his throat. "You must fulfill a goal she wasn't able to accomplish."
    Mara's heart plummeted.
    She let out a windy sigh. Of course, it'd been too good to be true.
    "Please don't tell me I have to spend the night in a haunted dungeon or try out medieval torture equipment," she said. "I've had all the spooks and weirdness I can handle lately."
    The solicitor shook his head, warmth lighting his face. "Nothing quite so adventurous. In fact, Lady Warfield was confident you were the best-suited person for the task."
    Mara lifted a brow. "How so?"
    "She felt your organizational talents would help you coordinate her wish to erect a MacDougall memorial on the castle grounds."
    Mara sat up straighter, a surge of hope strengthening her. This wasn't as bad as she'd thought. And if the castle came along with funds, such a task didn't sound so difficult at all.
    Still, there had to be more.
    Certain of it, she tilted her head. "So what else must I do?"
    "You must reunite the clan," he said, watching her. "That, and make certain as many MacDougalls as possible attend the memorial's unveiling ceremony."
    Mara reached for her wineglass and drained it. Her benefactress had chosen unwisely. She was the last person who'd know how to bring a family together, much less mend a clan-sized rift.
    An only child, she knew solely about small families.
    Small, dysfunctional families, since her mother had run off when she was two, and with his nose always buried in genealogy records, her father hadn't exactly invited interaction with the handful of relatives they did have.
    Mara sat back in her chair. "And if I fail?"
    The solicitor drew a deep breath. "If, after the monument's completion and a fair attempt to establish good relations between the clan members and yourself as new chatelaine of Ravenscraig, the hard feelings toward my late client haven't been resolved, you must leave."
    "I see," Mara said, surprised by the depth of her disappointment. "And what would happen to the castle then?"
    "Simply put, you would retain half of the fortune Lady Warfield is leaving you and Ravenscraig would go to Scotland's National Trust, the same as Wychwood went to the British National Trust."
    Mara looked aside, astonishing herself even more because her eyes were misting. She rarely got emotional, prided herself on keeping her feet firmly on the ground and making sure her only hopes and dreams were attainable ones.
    But neither had she ever run from a challenge.
    In fact, she thrived on them.
    "Miss McDougall?" Percival Combe's voice came edged with encouragement, as if he sensed her capitulation.
    And she was surrendering, her determination to succeed mounting with each indrawn breath.
    "You can be assured I will help you in every way I can." He spoke again, the possibilities behind his words wooing her. "Anything you—"
    "Anything?" Mara's heart gave a lurch, a wild notion beginning to spin inside her.
    Percival Combe smiled. "The smallest detail."
    "Well," she began, "there is something."
    "No need to be hesitant, my dear."
    "It's about a