Meghan: A Sweet Scottish Medieval Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

regrets. What was done was done, and it was up to her to make amends. Somehow, she had to set things right.
    The rope within her hand jerked, recalling her attention to the gift she’d brought for Meghan and her brothers—her own pet lamb, paltry compensation although it might be for the loss of an entire flock. She tugged the wee lammie within arm’s reach and patted its newly sheared coat as she considered her options.
    She could go to her father and reveal to him what she’d done, but he would blister her rear and then make her marry the loathsome Englishman anyhow.
    Or...
    She could confess to the loathsome Englishman, wed him as she was supposed to do, and then die of a broken heart—if, in fact, he didn’t murder her first for her duplicity.
    Or...
    She could continue to wait for Meghan here upon the meadow, tell her the truth, beg her forgiveness, and then help her rectify the situation. Meghan always seemed to know what to do.
    Why, oh, why couldn’t she be more like Meghan? Meghan was pretty and kind and brave and intelligent. She was all the things Alison wished she could be, and more.
    Beauty alone was not enough recommendation, she realized. Her eldest sister, Mairi, had been beautiful beyond words, but not so very intelligent, and certainly not so kind. Mairi’s beauty hadn’t gotten her anywhere but dead. And although her father had blamed Iain MacKinnon for Mairi’s death, Alison knew very well that her sister had always had a tendency toward melancholia.
    Her sister hadn’t loved her husband; she had chosen to kill herself rather than share her life with him. As dour as Mairi had always been, the prospect of living with a man she couldn’t possibly love must have proven such a terrible burden for her to have committed such an atrocious sin. It made Alison heartsick to think her sister had been so unhappy. The last thing she wished to do was to end like Mairi.
    Nay, she couldn’t wed Piers Montgomerie—she just couldn’t. She didn’t love him. Alison had been so relieved when her father had refused Lagan MacKinnon’s offer of marriage. As flattered as she had been that a man such as Lagan would take interest in a girl as plain as herself, her heart was already pledged to another. And if she couldn’t bear the thought of wedding Lagan, less could she bear the thought of wedding some English vulture, who preyed upon their lands.
    The faintest smile curved her lips at the thought of Colin Mac Brodie. His very name made her quiver. His face made her sigh at the mere sight—och, but it was the sort of face that tied a girl’s tongue into knots and made her heart leap like an exultant dancer.
    And his voice... it was the voice of an angel... soothing like warm honeyed mead. It made her belly flutter and her heart ache with longing. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to hear him whisper in her ear.
    Resting her chin upon her hand and her elbows upon her knees, she thought about Colin’s eyes... clearest blue, they were... like the reflection of a bright-blue summer sky upon a glass pond.
    Aye, Colin Mac Brodie was a beautiful, beautiful man...
    But he didn’t know she existed.
    Her wistful smile faded.
    She’d come upon him here this morn in the arms of another woman, the two of them stealing kisses and laughing together. And oh, how it had made Alison’s heart ache to watch them. How she wished it could have been her.
    But alas, it was not.
    She sighed heavily, knowing very well that Colin had a great fondness for women of all kind; it was obvious. He was with a new one every time she saw him. Usually, it didn’t bother Alison so much, because she hoped he would take his fill of them all, and wished with all her might that he would someday see her as someone more than simply Meggie’s little friend. But this morn it had been different. Alison hadn’t yet been able to dispel the heaviness from her heart over seeing the two of them together. It had taken all her resolve to approach him and ask after