Just Beyond Tomorrow Read Online Free PDF

that he had no near neighbors. The nearest, in fact, were his Leslie cousins at Sithean and his Gordon cousins at BrocCairn. He was on good terms with both families, which gave them all an added measure of safety. His paternal grandmother’s family had sold their lands at Greyhaven to the lords of Glenkirk and gone down into England with King James I to seek their fortunes. Their old manor house, not in particularly good repair, had been demolished.
    He rarely saw his cousins now, and he couldn’t recall if there were any lasses of marriageable age among them. So how did one go about finding a wife these days? Perhaps he would go to the games this summer and pick out a pretty girl. He would ascertain beforehand, however, that she knew how to keep house. Almost any lass could be cajoled into being good bedsport, but if she couldn’t rule his servants, or at least delegate authority among them, she would be of little use to him.
    While isolation was preferable in these dangerous times, it did leave him with certain disadvantages. He considered again if there were any female unmarried cousins at Sithean or BrocCairn. Nay. His generation had been all males, and they were all, he recalled, wed. Where the devil had they found suitable women to marry? Mayhap he could get some of them to go with him to the games and advise him in this delicate matter. He suspected they would all find his plight amusing, but there was no help for it. He needed assistance. He shook his head wearily as he put on his cape.
    In the courtyard of the castle, his stallion was waiting, saddled. The great gray beast pawed the ground eagerly, anxious to be off. Half a dozen of his clansmen were mounted and waiting to accompany him. The duke swung himself up into the saddle, pulling on his riding gloves, his cloak spreading across the gray’s dappled flanks. They clattered across the heavy oaken drawbridge and into the forest, the dogs yapping with excitement. Because there was no wind, the mist still hung among the bens and in the trees.
    Here and there a flash of tired color remained, startling amid the dark green of the fir trees. By mid-morning they had managed to flush a large stag from amid the wooded copse. The well-antlered creature fled through the trees, twisting and turning with a great skill born out of long experience, the baying dogs in quick pursuit. Leading them through the forest, the stag finally reached a small loch and, leaping into the water, swam away into the fog, successfully evading its pursuers. The belling of the dogs could be clearly heard, echoing through the air ahead of their riders. Then came the whines of their defeat and frustration.
    The hunting party arrived, their horses coming to a nervous stop, dancing about while the dogs milled about their legs whimpering. The stag’s trail through the water could be faintly seen in the still loch, but the beast was quite lost to their sight.
    â€œDamn!” the duke swore lightly. “Half a morning wasted finding it, and the other half wasted chasing it only to lose it.” He dismounted. “We might as well stop here and eat before we go on, laddies. I’m quite ravenous, but we’ve only oatcakes and cheese.”
    â€œWe’ve caught some rabbits along the way, m’lord,” his head huntsman, Colin More-Leslie, Donal’s brother, replied. “We’ll skin ’em and cook ’em up now.”
    When they had eaten the more substantial meal, the duke looked about him. “Where are we?” he asked of no one in particular.
    â€œ ’Tis Loch Brae, m’lord,” Colin More-Leslie said. “Look over there. Ye can just make out the old castle on its island, in the mist. ’Tis deserted. The last Gordon heiress of Brae married a Brodie many years back. She went to live in Killiecairn wi’ her husband.”
    â€œThese lands abut Glenkirk lands,” Patrick Leslie said thoughtfully. “If nae one lives