Moon Craving Read Online Free PDF

his best to help Abigail maintain the threads of the conversations happening around her.

    None of the MacDonald clan spoke directly to her. She got the impression this was out of respect to the Sinclair laird.

    Even without being directly involved in discussions, she had made several mistakes because she had not realized she was being spoken to.

    The old warrior who had filled the laird's position as host had believed Abigail's faulty Gaelic to be the cause, when in fact, Abigail understood and spoke Gaelic quite well now. As convenient as the excuse, how long would it serve to cover the fact she simply didn't always know when someone was speaking to her?

    And what would Talorc, Laird of the Sinclair, do when he found out?

    Emily had made it clear in her first letter that she and Talorc had not suited at all.
    Abigail's older sister had written that the man hated the English. He had not wanted what he called a Sassenach bride under any circumstances. He must be seething with fury over the second order from his king to that effect.

    Would that work in Abigail's favor or against her? Certainly, if she wanted a powerful Scottish laird for a husband as her younger sister Jolenta seemed to, the knowledge that Talorc of the Sinclairs despised the English would wound her hopes. But Abigail had given up hope of ever having her own family when her blood kin rejected her because of her affliction. No man, be he Scottish barbarian or English knight would want a wife cursed by deafness.

    The possibility that Talorc's dislike of the English, and naturally subsequent desire to be rid of her, would be great enough for him to see her deception as a gift rather than an offense over which he would declare war, was her one slim hope.

    Sir Reuben seemed unconcerned with the idea Laird Sinclair might declare war over such a thing. However, from what Emily had said in her letters regarding the pride of the Highlanders and Talorc especially, Abigail had her doubts. In addition, if Talorc was as hard a man as Emily had implied in her letters, he might very well exact a personal revenge from a deceptive bride.

    The prospect terrified her almost as much as her first lucid moments after her world had gone silent.

    At this moment, there were altogether too many prospects to cause her concern, and Abigail envied her maid the oblivion of sleep. She craved escape from her thoughts, but not enough to wish she'd joined her parents. Sybil and Sir Reuben were in the keep, along with the soldiers on duty and those that had not chosen an early night.

    Abigail had not been invited to join them, and she had not requested to do so.
    Supper had been difficult enough with her struggle to read unfamiliar lips and features.
    Added to that had been the nerve-racking condition of being the center of all eyes, a condition she had no experience with.

    Abigail was used to being ignored among her stepfather's people. Only here, she was the future wife of a powerful Highland laird obviously respected and admired by the MacDonald clan—and perhaps even a little feared. Everyone had stared at her, and she felt their judgment even if she could not hear the whispers going on around her.

    Sadly, none of her experiences since reaching Scotland had served to quiet the anxiety screaming inside her soundless world.

    The dirt floor of the cottage vibrated. Emily had taught Abigail that she had to use her other senses to compensate for her lack of hearing. Otherwise, she would be found out and become an outcast even in her family's own keep. She had learned to "hear" a great deal through what she felt around her. Dropping her hand to the floor, she let it settle against the compacted earth. The vibrations were in no way subtle and indicated a party of warhorses riding past the cottage. Her soon-to-be groom and the MacDonald laird must have returned.

    They had certainly taken their time about it. It was full dark, and the two lairds had missed the evening meal by more than