My Wild Highlander Read Online Free PDF

is it?"
    Philippe shook his head. "I must be going. I
wish you good luck. Au revoir ." He turned and fled into the
palace.
    Lachlan approached and indeed he did look
fearsome, a bit like one of the young male lions King James kept in
the Tower for fighting mastiffs and bears.
    "What did you do?" she demanded. "Draw your
sword? Show him your dagger?"
    "Nay. I did naught but look at him. He is a
cowardly lad, that one. He couldn't protect you from Kormad even if
he tried. You should be thankful the king won't let you marry
him."
    "Forgive me if I disagree. And I shall always
remain very fond of Philippe no matter what."
    ***
    Hours later, after the evening meal at the
palace, Lachlan requested three armed royal guards placed before
Angelique's bedchamber door, and made sure they were on the job.
Whether Angelique appreciated his protection or not, she was
getting it. Her comment about how fond she was of the whey-faced
Frenchie lad still irked him. But what did he care? Philippe was
not the problem. Kormad was.
    After dark, Lachlan left Whitehall Palace in
search of friends he trusted and strode down King Street. As he
approached Charing Cross, footsteps echoed behind him. Hand on the
hilt of his sheathed sword, he halted and turned, his gaze
searching along the shadowed buildings and the mist off the
Thames.
    Silence. Nothing moved. Damnation, he
hated having no one to watch his back on these dark and deadly
streets.
    With more purpose, he continued on his
way.
    A form leapt from the shadows beside him.
    "'Slud!" He dodged aside and drew his
sword.
    Two more men rushed in behind him, grabbed
his arms and pulled him off balance. Determined not to lose his
grip on the sword, Lachlan lowered his body and yanked at his
captors. They clung to him like tenacious wolfhounds, rendering his
arms useless.
    " A mhic an uilc! " Lachlan yelled.
    The first attacker punched him hard in the
stomach. His breath whooshed out, leaving suffocating pain.
    He kicked the man and tried to twist away
from the other two, but the bastards were strong. He stomped the
toes of the man on his right, freed his sword arm and lashed
out.
    The man recovered and both of them tackled
him to the street. One struck his arm, causing him to lose his
grip. The sword clattered away.
    "Damnation!" He struggled against them, tried
to throw them off.
    "Come now, grab his arms and drag him! This
is the quickest way to the river," their leader ordered in a
Lowland Scots dialect.
    "We need to knock him in the head first, else
he'll just swim out."
    "Then do it!"
    "And what are you doing but playing
boss?"
    Still lying on the ground, Lachlan shoved a
knee toward the whoreson's bent head, but he dodged aside.
    "You mewling jolthead. Hold him still."
    One of the men grabbed for Lachlan's
hair.
    Evading him, Lachlan kicked the man in the
stomach and he back-flipped into the ditch. He then jammed his
elbow against the other man's stomach and punched him in the
face.
    "Omph!"
    Their leader advanced, carrying a massive
stick. Lachlan sprang from the ground, snatched the stick and
landed a quick blow to the man's face with his fist. His nose made
a satisfying crunching sound before he staggered backwards and fell
on his arse.
    Ha! Now he was getting somewhere. Lachlan
hauled him up by his doublet. "Who sent you? Who do you work
for?"
    "To hell with you!" The ruffian tried to kick
Lachlan in the groin.
    He stepped aside and shoved the man to the
ground.
    The blackguard leapt up and fled. His cohorts
scrambled from the ditch, sewage and foul water dripping from their
clothing, and ran after.
    "Bastards!" Lachlan retrieved his sword,
gleaming from the shadows, followed a short distance but lost them
to the fog.
    Kormad's men—he would place silver on it.
    " Iosa is Muire Mhàthair ," he muttered
and proceeded to The Golden Cross Inn.
    Upon entering the sizable main room lit by
lanterns, Lachlan sheathed his sword and scanned the patrons eating
and drinking at the many tables. His