On a Highland Shore Read Online Free PDF

“My lord, d’ye remember me telling ye just yestereen what happened when my daughter went to Sligo, that the man offered for her, and she turned him down?” At Gannon’s nod he continued, his voice shaking. “They must have kent that ye’d been at our home and left, for in the night, almost at the morning, they came.” He paused to take a shuddery breath. “They killed my wife, sir. And took my daughters, both of them. I tried…I tried, my lord, but I could do nothing to stop them. I told ye, do ye remember, that he’d threatened his revenge on her? But I never thought…” He put his face in his hands and could not continue.
    “Aye. I remember,” Gannon said. He’d not been surprised that the man from Sligo had offered for her; she was very lovely. But he’d also not been surprised she’d refused him scornfully; she’d always had a high opinion of herself. Most men suffering such a rejection would have been bitter. But not violent. Gannon rose to his feet, gathering the papers together, feeling his anger rise.
    “He came to me at dawn,” Alban’s brother said, gesturing to Alban. “And I told him to come to ye. I canna believe men would behave so, to kill a woman and steal my nieces. God only kens what’s happened to them already.”
    Gannon thrust his paper and quill into the wooden writing box, letting the top close with a thud. “Ye want us to go and bring them back, aye?”
    Alban’s brother looked at Tiernan and the four other men in the room. “No. There’s not enough of ye. But we thought, kenning as ye are cousin to the great Rory O’Neill, laird of all Ulster, that ye could send word to him and ask him for help. He’d like as not send some men if ye were to ask him…”
    “That would take three days,” Gannon said. “How many of them are there?”
    “Fifteen, my lord, all large men, and fearsome.”
    Gannon raised an eyebrow. “There are six of us, sir, and two of ye. And I assure ye we are far more fearsome than they are. D’ye ken where they went?”
    “We tracked them to a glade not far from here, my lord, but, sir, ye canna think to take them on without help.”
    Tiernan came to Gannon’s side. The brothers exchanged a look, then Gannon nodded. He turned to his men. “Get yerselves ready, lads. We’ve a task to do. Let’s go and get the bastards.”
     
    Gannon leaned down closer to his horse’s neck, whispering to the stallion, whose ears flickered in response. The horse, as highly trained as its master, kept silent. Gannon turned his head then to look at Tiernan, astride next to him, both of them dappled with shadows from the trees that surrounded them. In the glade before them the lasses huddled together, the younger one sobbing. The older one stared into the distance as the Sligo men tended the horses or talked with each other and passed a wineskin. They’d obviously been drinking. And more, from the looks they threw the lasses.
    He gestured for Alban to come forward and signaled for him to be quiet. When Alban had joined him, Gannon parted the leaves. “Are these the ones?”
    Alban nodded, his fear visible. “But, my lord, ye’ll never…”
    Gannon put a finger over his lips. “We’ll get them back,” he whispered.
    He turned to the men behind him, gesturing for two of them to flank the glade. Then he nodded at Tiernan. His brother nodded in return and raised a hand to signal their men. Gannon gave his men a moment to get into position, then straightened and slowly drew his broadsword from its sheath, careful not to make a sound. He’d give the bastards one chance. He lifted his reins and rode into the glade.
    The Sligo men leapt to their feet, a few reaching for weapons, then pausing, watching him. Gannon gave the men who stared at him now a moment to see his raised sword, letting his horse dance in a tight circle while he looked them over. Hardened men, most of them, hired, no doubt, for this attack. They looked at him with a mixture of contempt and