Laird of Ballanclaire Read Online Free PDF

“I think I’m going to need quiet now,” she said.
    “Why?”
    “Because I’ve never seen . . . what I’m about to.”
    He choked again, and this time he coughed for some time afterward. Constant watched his back undulate with it.
    “I probably should have you send a message to my garrison. On second thought, that’s what I’ll do. Can you get some paper, ink, and a quill?”
    “I can’t send a message to any English-held anything.”
    “You canna’ read or write?”
    He was almost worse than dealing with Charity. “I’ll have you know I read and write. I do both quite well. I even speak two foreign languages: Spanish and French. I was taught by my sister Hope. She married a learned man. She wants to be a schoolmarm.”
    “Oh. My mistake. So, why canna’ you get a message off for me?” he asked.
    “Because it would be disloyal.”
    “Disloyal? To whom? We’re all loyal British subjects . . . are na’ we?”
    “Disloyal to my father. He had business with Doctor Thatcher this week, and that means what I’m doing right now, for you, will not go unpunished in my family. If it’s found out.”
    He sucked in his breath. “Your name is Ridgely? That is what you said?”
    “Yes,” she answered.
    “God damn! Jesu’ Christ! And his Mother Mary! And bloody hell to top it off!”
    “Mind your profanity, sir!”
    “For the love of—! Constant. I was ever profane. I’d apologize, but I’ll probably just spout more, and then I’d have to apologize more, and then I’ll just do it again.”
    “Well, I’m not used to it.”
    “Fine. I apologize, but that does na’ change it.”
    “What?”
    “Your father. Ridgely. Does he write articles for the Colonial Register ? Some bits of trash about sedition and rights of citizens? That sort of blather?”
    “It isn’t blather!”
    “Sweet Saint Jude. I’m covered with tar that your father heated to the correct burning, scarring temperature so those men could pour it all over a soldier doing little more than tipping a pint at an inn . . . and you defend it?”
    “I already told you he’s ill. Old. He couldn’t do any such thing,” Constant retorted defensively.
    “If you write that sort of drivel, you light the spark behind every one of these uprisings. Inflammatory words spark insurrections, my dearest Constant.”
    “Perhaps your country shouldn’t try to cheat colonies half a world away, then.”
    “You share your father’s sentiments?”
    “I was born in the colonies, sir. I’ve never been to England. I have no desire to, either. I’m not English.”
    “Neither am I,” he replied.
    Constant frowned. “I don’t understand.”
    “I’m a Highlander. Black Watch regiment.”
    “A . . . Highlander?”
    “From Scotland. And damn proud of it. Oh. Bother. You’ll pardon the profane portion of that, will na’ you?”
    Constant’s face fell. “Aren’t you a soldier . . . in King George’s regiment?”
    “That does na’ mean I’m English.”
    “There’s a difference?”
    He sighed heavily. “Keep me jailed in this tar long enough and I’ll have time to explain.”
    “I’m not keeping you anywhere.”
    He sighed. “You’re right, Constant, love. And it’s dense of me to get you angered right now.”
    “I’m not angry,” she replied.
    “Good.”
    “I just need you to be quiet.”
    “I doona’ think I can. We should probably change the subject again, though.”
    “To what?”
    “I would like to ken why it is that you’re na’ looking at a man’s nakedness every night of your life. That’s what I’d like to hear.”
    She was hot with the blush. She put every bit of affront into her voice. “I am not wed!”
    “Well, you should be. You’re old enough. I’ve seen how young they like them in this uncivilized, backwater colony. I’m finding it difficult to believe that our sovereign is actually preparing to quell the insurgency over here.”
    “Insurgency?”
    “When colonists rebel against their country it’s