Return of the Highlander (Immortal Warriors) Read Online Free PDF

impending doom. Aye, it must be. He had fought at Culloden Moor and died there.
    But with remembrances came a warning. Somewhere in his mind there was a nasty beastie, lurking, waiting to creep up on him when he wasn’t looking and tear him to pieces. It was a pity he couldn’t remember its name.
    Maclean stayed among the ruins well into the darkness. His lands were empty and his home was gone; where else was he to go? Now and again there were flashes of long-gone faces, the call of dead voices, moments of merriment and sorrow, of everyday life. Again his head pounded, the memories making it ache, but he persisted. The night before the march to join theprince’s army he had sent out the fiery cross to call his clan together, and they had feasted and drunk. He had sat at the head of the table in his chair that was more like a throne and gazed upon all that was his.
    Lord George Murray has called me to join him at Culloden Moor, but dinna fear. Nothing and no one can hurt you. I will not allow it to happen.
    They had believed in him, their father, their master, their king. In his arrogance he had thought himself untouchable. Only his wife-to-be, Ishbel, had reminded him in her cold and precise voice that he was not.
    You are a man, Maclean, and all men can bleed and die.
    Ishbel…aye, there was something else to be remembered about his betrothed, but instead he heard his father’s voice.
    Women are to be used and no’ to be trusted. Do no’ let them inside your heart, lad. They will destroy ye.
    Maclean agreed. No woman had ever meant more to him than his broadsword and his dogs. And yet…Ishbel. Why did the name tease at him, as if there were something he was not seeing? Just as he had not seen it two hundred and fifty years ago.
    Another rain shower came and he crouched and shivered. Why was it that although he was a ghost he could still feel? Still suffer? Still ache with sorrow?
    A whiff of smoke came up from the cottage below and then the smell of cooking. Maclean lifted his head and sniffed. He was not hungry, but the homely smell brought with it a desperate need to find the company of others. To not be alone.
    Slowly, stiffly, he rose to his feet and began the climb down the narrow path.
    There was another monster sitting outside the cottage and despite his earlier distraction he did not think it had been there before. As Maclean stepped around it, felt the heat from beneath its hard outer shell, he heard voices from inside the cottage.
    The light was still shining from the window, and he could see inside. The room was bright, and there were foodstuffs laid out upon a table. The woman he had seen earlier was preparing them by slicing them with a knife. Her dark hair had dried and lay about her back and shoulders in a mass of long, loose curls. She wore a blue robe, covering all but a V at her throat. He could see the shape of her breasts and the narrow curve of her waist where she had tied a belt of the same cloth as the robe. Her cheeks were flushed and as she leaned forward a lock of her hair fell into her eyes.
    The fair-headed man standing behind her was taller, his face fleshy and ruddy as if he were jolly by nature. But from his narrowed eyes and pinched mouth Maclean knew he wasn’t feeling very jolly just now. He was angry.
    “This is a mistake.” The man spat that last word out, and the woman flinched.

Three
     
    This is a mistake, Brian had said.
    “A mistake?” Bella repeated, tucking her hair behind her ear. There was a sick feeling in her stomach, just as there always was at the beginning of one of their arguments, but this time it was mixed with a flicker of flame.
    “We should have taken a place in Edinburgh, somewhere closer to civilization.”
    “But we decided,” she said. “We decided that this was the best place for me to write my book. You know how important it is for me to get close to my…my subject. And anyway, I thought you said we needed a holiday together. Just you and