Seducing a Scottish Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

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     — “for certes, they are best avoided.”
    Sir Marmaduke snorted. “I see no reason for your concern, my friend. If you find the MacRuaris so unsavory, send their man
     on his way. As you’ve done with all the others.”
    Duncan sighed, his world contracting to a small, spinning place of misery.
    Slowing his pace to match his dogs’ stiff-legged gaits, he slid a look at his lifelong friend and the woman he loved even
     more than life, no longer caring if they could see into his soul, recognize the fears simmering there.
    The saints knew he had good reason for them.
    “I told you,” he began, directing his words at the Sassunach, “this suitor is different. He is a man like no other. The last
     man I would see married to either of my girls. And” — Duncan pressed his fingers to his temples — “he is the one man I cannot
     refuse.”
    Linnet gasped.
    Sir Marmaduke had the audacity to remain unmoved. His gaze flashed to Duncan’s great sword, the jeweled dirk thrust beneath
     his belt. “Since when have you lacked the courage to decline an unwelcome marriage bid for one of your daughters?”
    “They call him the Raven,” Duncan said as if his friend hadn’t spoken. “Ronan MacRuari is his given name. He is the scion
     of a dark clan, his house the most blighted in all the land.”
    Duncan paused, clearing his throat before his tongue refused to form the words. “I ought say
my
land, as they live hidden away in a bleak and empty corner of Kintail. Castle Dare is their home. A place I haven’t visited
     in many a year. No man wishing to see the next day’s sunrise would willingly set foot there.”
    “They are that evil?” Linnet sank onto a chair.
    “They are that cursed,” Duncan amended, knowing the distinction made little difference. “Tradition claims they had a sorcerer
     ancestor in their distant past. Maldred the Dire. An archdruid of such great wickedness his legacy has marked them, bringing
     doom and grief to the clan all down the centuries.”
    “Dear saints.” Linnet clapped a hand to her breast.
    Sir Marmaduke frowned, already reaching for his sword. “You must refuse this offer by any means. I will postpone the journey
     to Doon.” He stepped forward, patting his blade. “My sword arm is yours, as always.”
    “Your sword arm is the last thing I’d want unleashed on the MacRuaris,” Duncan said, touched by his friend’s loyalty but well
     aware that he couldn’t make use of it. “Such recourse is closed to me.”
    “I do not understand.”
    “You would if I’d spoken plainer words.”
    “Then speak them,” his wife urged. “Please, I pray you.”
    His heart heavy, Duncan went back to the table, helping himself this time to a cup of tepid ale. The drink’s staleness suited
     him. He picked up the rolled parchment, only to let it drop again as if it’d been an adder and bit him. “The offer for Gelis
     did not come from the Raven but from the man’s grandfather, the MacRuari chieftain. He is the man I cannot refuse, not his
     grandson and heir.”
    “Why can you not refuse him?” His wife came into his arms, holding him tightly. “Surely you can?”
    “Nae, I cannot,” Duncan spoke true. “My honor forbids it.”
    “Your honor?” Linnet pulled back to stare at him. “How can you speak of such a thing with your daughter’s life at stake?”
    “Because,” Duncan told her, the truth breaking him, “without the valor of old MacRuari, I would not have a daughter. Not Gelis.
     Not Arabella. Nor even you. Valdar MacRuari saved my life when I was a lad. I owe him that long-standing debt and now he is
     wishing to claim it.”
    “Oh.” The color left Linnet’s face. “Now I see.”
    And Duncan saw that she did.
    Honor was everything to a MacKenzie. Even death was preferable to forsaking it.
    “Indeed, I see as well.” Sir Marmaduke sighed. “You have no choice.”
    “Such is the way of it,” Duncan agreed, wishing it were otherwise. “As soon as