Island of the Swans Read Online Free PDF

You are so kind to let me impose upon you this way.”
    She settled as comfortably as she could on the frayed, wing-backed chair provided her by her host. A brief survey of the other tattered furnishings in Colonel Fraser’s abode told her that the Master of Lovat was as strapped for funds as she was.
    “Now that you have returned to us from the campaign against those wicked Frenchmen who are stirring up such trouble among the savages in America,” she commented, flashing her most charming smile, “I’m sure you agree with my earlier missive to you that we must attend to a tempest brewing right here in our own midst.”
    Simon Fraser nursed his brandy and considered his guest closely. He’d tossed aside her ladyship’s letter hinting at her concern over the close friendship that had developed between his ward Thomas Fraser and that madcap Jane Maxwell. However, in the wilds of Canada, he’d been worried about saving his own scalp, not some Scottish chit’s hymen. That the brat had lost a finger through her own folly was none of his affair, and under no circumstances was Thomas ever going to be permitted to seek the penniless saucebox’s disfigured hand in marriage.
    Observing Lady Maxwell’s vague discomfort in his dilapidated sitting room, he could sense his visitor was groping for a delicate way of phrasing her next words. Her eyes focused above his head on the paint peeling from the parlor walls.
    “I have been quite firm with Jane these last years, but I am sure you agree that we must now execute our duty as guardians,” she averred, “and call a complete halt to the free and childish association that’s prevailed between Thomas and Jane.”
    Simon noted she had the decency to blush slightly as she continued.
    “They are approaching an age when the merest misstep could be disastrous… and could lead to… complications, which neither of us would welcome.”
    Simon remained silent, pouring himself another two fingers of the bracing amber liquid he much preferred to lesser stimulants. As he settled back in his chair, the epaulets of his uniform nearly touched the plump lobes of his oversized ears. He looked at his visitor steadily for a moment longer and began to speak.
    “My dear Lady Maxwell,” he said, “I am but a rough, unmannered soldier, late of the wilds of Canada and the 78th Fraser Highlanders. I am unused to such sitting room niceties. Let us, pray, be frank with one another.”
    Lady Maxwell looked at him warily, but didn’t interrupt.
    “I am well aware that you are a woman of shrewd judgment and tenacity, so let us put our cards on the table, shall we?”
    Magdalene Maxwell nodded, her dark eyes narrowing.
    “We each have in our care young wards whose futures we feel duty bound to protect,” Simon Fraser continued. “Both Thomas and Jane are bairns pleasing to the eye, with wit and spirit. Sadly, the fates thus far have provided them little else for their comfort and future prospects. In other circumstances, a union between our two families might well be thought advantageous.”
    He noted with satisfaction that Lady Maxwell nodded in polite agreement.
    “It is, therefore, imperative,” he continued, “if the ample gifts Jane and Thomas do possess are to be realized to the benefit both of themselves and of us, who have nurtured them so long, that steps be taken to prevent the natural order of things from reaching fruition.”
    The veteran campaigner paused for breath and cocked his head to one side.
    “Are we in agreement thus far?” he asked.
    “Thus far,” affirmed Lady Maxwell, a relieved and knowing smile forming at the corners of her mouth. “Pray continue. What action do you recommend?”
    “Ah…” Simon said, sipping his brandy slowly, pleased that he had accurately guessed the purpose behind Lady Maxwell’s uncharacteristic neighborliness. Although Thomas and Jane were mere striplings, he, too, had noted that since his recent return from the French and Indian