Reclaimed (A Highland Historical Trilogy) (The MacKay Banshees 1-3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

the stables like a fleeing rabbit.
    Katriona’s lip curled in disgust and she motioned for Kamdyn to follow her. Stealing through the crowd, they were invisible to all and only tangible as the kiss of a death-chill on someone’s flesh. As she passed, women held their children closer and ducked into the protection of their men. The elderly narrowed their eyes and crossed themselves or spoke a quick incantation against evil in the olde language.
    But they were all safe from her. She was dangerous to one man, and that was if she could only find out how to kill him. While she still wanted too. Because she did.
    Didn’t she?
    Rory put his hands around Kathryn Frasier’s waist and lifted her onto her mare, not letting go until she settled into the saddle.
    Yes, she definitely wanted to kill him.
    “Thank you, Laird,” Kathryn murmured, her hands resting on Rory’s forearms.
    When he released her and turned to take the reins of his own mount, the color in his cheeks intensified.
    Katriona could feel a wail building inside her, but she didn’t let it escape in front of the gathered crowd. Though the people wouldn’t be able to see her, they’d hear her Banshee cry. And these weren’t just Rory’s people. They were hers too. She couldn’t bring herself to frighten them.
    Besides, she didn’t know where the cry came from. Or why it had built of its own accord. She hadn’t been particularly angry. She’d been watching Rory MacKay put his large, strong hands on his betrothed, thinking about the last time she’d seen him blush.
    It had been two years ago, when the MacKay warriors had returned from besting the Sutherlands at Dingwall. The men had scattered to their villages, some to Cape Wrath, and others to Kinlochburvie, Farr, and Balligill. But Angus and Rory MacKay had returned with their soldiers to Durness.
    Katriona, Kylah, and Kamdyn had been working with their mother in the washhouse they’d converted from their father’s smithy. Bedecked with war-braids, weapons, and the blood of their enemies, ten loud MacKays had converged upon the washhouse. One service Elspeth MacKay supplied above cleaning linen and wool was the care and upkeep of armor, learned from years with her husband. She had the proper oils and such on hand and her family saw a great deal of income after a battle.
    “Ye canna hail Rory as the battle’s hero,” Angus bellowed as he and the men crowded inside. “He had his sword and all I had was a bow. Did ye count the number of corpses with arrows in them?” Angus’s thin, stringy hair had no blood in it. His tartan soiled with nothing but dirt and food.
    “Doesna matter,” one of the men diplomatically pointed out. “The battle’s won, we’ll celebrate tonight!”
    The men had dropped their armor off with Katriona and then crowded around the large metal basin to vie for Kylah’s dainty, beauteous attentions and Kamdyn’s youthful, fresh smiles.
    All except for Rory MacKay.
    His tartan and sword had been bloodier than the others, his chest and arms thicker, he’d towered over them, his eyes bright with a post-battle intensity. Ducking through her entry last, he’d hung behind the crop of men, but towered over them.
    Her mother had left Katriona alone by the entry shelves of the washhouse with him to go and run interference for her two younger daughters.
    “Do you all intend to pay, or simply gawk?” she’d asked him, impatient with the extra work and maybe a little irate at the lack of attention. Katriona had always known she wasn’t as beautiful as her sisters, and with each year she grew older as they bloomed. She’d been attractive in her own way, catching the eyes of many lads. Though each time they’d lost interest the moment Kylah entered a room.
    “I’ll cover expenses for the men.” Rory’s voice had sounded dark and warm as the air in the washhouse, and Katriona had to wipe a bloom of sweat from her brow.
    His large, intense umber eyes had captured hers, unsettling