Highlander Unbroken (Highland Adventure Book 8) Read Online Free PDF Page A

yet ken how.
    He and Uncle Bhatar ate in companionable silence, for which Neacal was grateful, but at the same time, he realized how alone he was, despite being surrounded by dozens of people. No one truly knew him anymore. No one kenned of the nightmares or how difficult it was to fall asleep at night. How mortified he would be if they saw how he kept his hearth fire burning bright to chase away the demons that lurked in the darkness. No one heard how he whispered to the spirit of his father in the night, asking for his forgiveness and his guidance.
    Midway through supper, the minstrels started playing their instruments. He did not pay much attention until a high, clear voice rose above all the earthly music. Neacal's gaze sought out the lass who sang the haunting ballad, Griogal Cridhe . Beloved MacGregor.
    'Twas the same every time she sang—a hush fell over the great hall and Neacal's breath halted. Anna's voice could be called nothing short of divine. It cut through his soul with such aching beauty, all the darkness inside him threatened to come pouring out at once.
    He could not believe it when he glimpsed tears glistening upon Anna's face. But, of course, the song was exceedingly melancholy, for it was written by the grieving widow of the MacGregor clan chief who had been executed by her father, the Campbell laird, after a long and bloody feud. 'Twas obvious Anna put her heart and soul into the song… so much emotion that it scraped along his nerve endings. His muscles ached to hold her and comfort her… dry her tears. But it was something more which sent a spear though his soul.
    He could not understand it, nor could he abide it in the midst of dozens of people. Shoving his chair back, he arose from the table and strode from the room, up the steps.
    His heart thundered within his chest. Alone on the dark stair, he paused, his head pressed against the cool stone. He could not escape her voice. Nay, he wished to, but it lured him, dared him to keep listening. A battle raged within him. The demons of anger and fear fought against some unnamed force of good which slid through him with her voice.
    Clawing his way up the stairs to the laird's lug, the tiny chamber over the great hall designed for chiefs to eavesdrop on the happenings below, he tried to maintain control. Inside the room, her voice echoed just as loudly as it had in the great hall. He closed the small door and slumped against it. His eyes burning, he ground his teeth. 'Twas not sadness. He didn't ken what it was. As her voice rose and circled him, it lifted his soul toward the heavens. Was he dying? Nay, during the time he thought he would die from the torture, he had never felt like this.
    Good God, what was happening to him? Was he truly losing his sanity altogether?
    Applause roared, filtering up through the gaps between the stones from the great hall, and then the angel started singing again.
    Sitting on the stone floor of the tiny dark room, he absorbed the sound of her voice and all within him calmed. He breathed slowly, steadily. Her voice was like a celestial light shining brightly through him.
    The sound of scratching and whining brought him back to himself. Dunn? He opened the door. The wolfhound entered the room, then licked his face. Neacal wrapped his arm around the massive dog.
    Dunn lay down while Neacal stroked his rough fur. In the great hall below them, a lovely violin tune filtered up to him. After that, Anna sang again. He had not even introduced himself or talked to her specifically, although he had talked to their leader. What would he say to her? Could he tell her the truth, that her voice bewitched him? Surely, she already thought him mad and wished him to keep a good distance from her.
    He knew not who she truly was or where she came from, but he wished he could do naught but listen to her singing all night and all day. How daft was that? He was a warrior and chief, for God's sake; he should not be enthralled by some woman's