Legends Read Online Free PDF Page A

there; put in a golf course—”
    “We don’t play golf! We fish for a living, and raise sheep, and farm, and run little shops, and go to church, and send our children to school, and—”
    “Tourists play golf,” he said in exasperation. “Tourists bring money.”
    “Tourists come to gawk! They make the locals feel like actors in an amusement park!”
    “Any country that has the Loch Ness monster is already an amusement park, as far as I’m concerned. Legends are worth a fortune on the open market, and this country is crawling with ’em.”
    Elgiva hummed an old tune and reached over to her spinning wheel. She wrapped one finger around the bobbin thread. “I have wound you with my strongest work, Douglas. I have you prisoner. I’ll keep you prisoner. I’ll let you go the day after your sneaky little option is up. By law, a laird’s unclaimed estate goes to his nearest heirs. MacRoth Hall is by rights their home!”
    “And I’ll be very, very good to it. I’m going to put in a swimming pool and a helicopter pad.”
    Years of anger welled up inside her, along with a reckless urge to tell Douglas Kincaid sad stories he wouldn’t care to hear. Elgiva went to the hearth and pulled a black cape from its peg by the fireplace. “I’m going for a walk now. I’ll be doing this every afternoon.” She whipped the cape around her and fastened it at her throat.
    “I hope you like beef stew, Douglas. Can you smell it simmering on the stove? We’ll have supper just as soon as I get back. You can break your bowl on the floor. What fun! Come along, dog.”
    Kincaid jumped up and threw himself at the bars, grabbing them and jerking viciously. The violent power of his body and hands was an unnerving sight. “Who are you?” he yelled. “What personal stake do you have in this?”
    As she strode from the room with his dog at her heels, she called calmly, “Angus MacRoth stole from his own kin, Douglas. His holdings will go back to his heirs, and there’ll be naught you can do about it. No Scottish court will heed your protests.”
    “I’ll own that land, and I’ll own you!”
    Elgiva shivered. She had read that Douglas Kincaid never made idle threats.
    Douglas prowled his cell. He shoved the table and chair aside so that he could pace. When he heard the heavy door creak open in the outer room of the cottage, he stepped to the bars and gazed out with pure animosity.
    His kidnapper swept into view, her cheeks rosy from the cold, the magnificent black cape swirling around her. The sight was so affecting that he couldn’t speak for a moment—damn her, she was incredible to look at, and the spirit that gleamed in those golden eyes drew him despite his fury. Sam, tongue lolling, bounded over to the cell without the least bit of shame.
    “Sam, you damned traitor,” Douglas accused, but stroked his head.
    “ ‘Sam,’ is it?” the woman asked. “Good! I’ll call him
Shom
. Short for
Shomhairle
. That’s the Gaelic form of Samuel.” She clapped her hands. “You’re a good Scottish dog now, Shom!”
    Sam thumped his tail as if he understood. Douglas glared from him to the woman. “You left without giving me a chance to ask more questions,” he protested. “Coward.”
    “I thought you needed a wee bit of privacy to mull things over.” She shrugged the cape off and hung iton a wooden peg beside the hearth. “Besides, I had a fierce need for my evening stroll. The moors called to me.”
    “They probably said, ‘Run for your life. You’re in deep trouble.’ ”
    She shrugged, but he was surprised to see her shoulders slump a little. “So be it.”
    “Are you ever going to tell me your name?”
    “No.” She fluffed her long plaid skirt then knelt on the stone hearth to stir up the fire. “I’ll not make it easier for you to track me after you’re set free. Your hired hounds will sniff out my identity quick enough.”
    “What keeps you from just murdering me?” he asked nonchalantly. “Wouldn’t