Pride of the Clan Read Online Free PDF

should we be persecuted?” Sir David asked. “We’ve done naught amiss.”
    The auld knight spoke the truth, yet the knot in Rheade’s belly refused to ease. However, he wanted to avoid alarming Margaret. “Mayhap it’s the dangerous times have me on edge. I’m confident Tannoch will welcome ye.”
    He glanced at Logan. His younger brother’s dour expression showed he doubted it.
    To his relief, Fion appeared, accompanied by maidservants bearing tankards of ale. Once again the faithful retainer had eased a tense situation with his sense of what was the right thing to do.
    “Thank ye, Fion,” he rasped. “I’d like ye to see to preparations for our guests.”
    “Lady Isobel’s dressing room will be ready for Lady Margaret shortly,” the Steward replied, “and the maids are airing out another chamber for her aunt and uncle.”
    A bemused smile lit Logan’s face as Fion retreated. “Ye might have known he’d have matters in hand,” he said.
    It sometimes occurred to Rheade the auld steward would make a better laird than his brother, but he wouldn’t share that with these strangers. His first loyalty was to his clan and its chieftain. He raised his tankard. “To yer health, Lady Margaret.”
    She lifted her tankard in response and took a sip of the ale. Dunalastair brew was strong, dark and yeasty and he wondered what she’d think of it. Her genuine smile of enjoyment had the predictable effect on his manhood, and the trace of froth gracing her upper lip tugged at his heart. He traced a finger over his own lip, his mind licking the creamy moustache from hers.  
    She blushed and dabbed her mouth with a lacy kerchief. “’Tis a fine ale,” she said.
    “Nay as good as what we brew in Oban,” her uncle boasted, wiping a sleeve across his face, his tankard half empty.
    “Aye,” Lady Edythe exclaimed with a loud belch.
    Everyone laughed heartily. It occurred to Rheade that this is how life should be; pleasant camaraderie among folks of good intent sharing an ale. Things hadn’t been thus at Dunalastair for a while.
    It struck him like a lightning bolt. The Robertson brothers no longer had friends or neighbors who might come for a social visit. Tannoch’s belligerence had brought an end to friendly gatherings.

    ~~~
    Margaret’s mouth fell open when Rheade escorted her into his mother’s dressing room. “’Tis huge,” she exclaimed.  
    “Aye,” he replied. “’Twas her favorite place in the whole castle. Her retreat , she called it. She had a bed placed here for the nights my father’s snoring drove her from their chamber. Fion makes sure everything’s as it was, in her memory.”
    This confirmed Margaret’s first impression that the long disused chamber had been kept aired and dusted, and mint scattered to deter mice and ants.
    She hoped the flush of heat surging in her veins wasn’t evident on her face. She barely knew this man who was sharing intimate secrets about his parents. Yet she laughed. “My mother had the same complaint,” she said softly, wistful at the remembrance. Uncle Davey and Aunty Edythe would soon make sure no trace remained of her mother and father at Ogilvie House.
    “Sounds like ye loved yer parents,” he said.
    With one finger she traced the pattern on the pale blue bedspread, reluctant to meet his gaze. “I miss them terribly. And my brothers.”
    Why she’d mentioned them she wasn’t sure. He frowned. “Ye’ve brothers?”
    “I had three. They drowned.”
    Unexpectedly, he took hold of her hands and brought them to his lips. “I am sorry, Margaret. I would be devastated if a similar catastrophe befell my brothers. How did it happen?”
    The warm moisture of his lips on her knuckles, the sincerity in his dark brown eyes, the sorrow in his deep voice, all conspired to send a jolt of desire spiraling into her womb. This behavior had to stop. She was betrothed to another, and while Robert Stewart yet lived, she wasn’t free to dally with Rheade Robertson,