Some Like it Scot (Scandalous Highlanders Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page B

crumbled house was no place for a woman in skirts to be crawling about. Or a man in a kilt, likely. Or she could hope so, at least.
    And he wore a kilt again today, along with heavy boots, a plain white shirt, and a black wool coat. Why that mattered she had no idea, but she’d noticed his appearance with a clarity that surprised her a little. Perhaps she’d finally taken to heart the proverb about knowing thy enemy. It was too late to learn the lesson, really—or maybe it wasn’t, since she and Elizabeth were still free.
    Catriona made her way through the tumbled ruins to the doorless front entry and leveled her musket at the opening as the so-called Bear hopped over a pile of stones and strolled inside. “I dunnae recall inviting ye in,” she snapped.
    â€œI dunnae recall asking fer an invitation,” he returned, giving a short whistle. The hound leaped through the opening to stand again at his side.
    Now that they were on the same footing both man and beast seemed even more massive, and she couldn’t decide which was the more dangerous. And then the hound took a step forward, its hackles lifting, and bared its teeth in a growl that sent the hairs on the back of her own neck pricking.
    â€œFergus is advising ye to lower the musket,” the big man commented easily, shifting the satchel he carried slung over one shoulder. “I suggest ye pay attention.”
    â€œNeither of ye frightens me. If ye feel the need to give me charity, leave the blanket and bread and go. Otherwise someone’s likely to get shot.”
    The hound crouched, edging another step forward. Uneasiness clenched into Catriona’s spine. Scottish hounds had been bred to take down deer; she would hardly be a challenge. This was a chess match, though. The musket was her weapon, and the dog, his. Who would fire first? Or who would blink?
    Light green eyes gazed at her for a long moment, more subtle and contemplative than she expected. Then with a visible sigh he snapped his fingers. “Fergus, off. Down.”
    With what sounded like a disgusted humph the dog sat, then lay down with his large gray head on his paws.
    â€œThat’s good, then,” she said, pushing her sudden relief aside. She was nowhere near being safe, yet. “Now ye, big man. Off.”
    â€œBear, I told ye.”
    â€œBear, then. Put down the satchel and be off with ye.”
    Moving slowly, keeping his gaze on her, he complied. “Ye dunnae need to fear me, lass. And ye’re welcome to stay on here. Glengask welcomes all Highlanders, as long as they dunnae make trouble.”
    She snorted. “So ye speak fer the mighty Lord Glengask, do ye? Forgive me fer nae giving ye a curtsy.”
    â€œIn those trousers? I’d like to see that.”
    For a moment she felt self-conscious, but that wasn’t disdain with which he was eyeing her. The realization made her feel … prickly on the inside. It was a sensation she wasn’t certain she liked. “Not if ye were the Bruce himself,” she shot back.
    Not just her words remained defiant. The musket didn’t waver, either, and Munro didn’t bother to hide his scowl. For Saint Andrew’s sake, he’d called off the dog and brought her gifts it looked like she could definitely use. And his presence still offended her. Him, the man who’d been voted the May King by the village lasses for four years running. The man who’d bedded both Bethia and Flora Peterkin in the same night without either of them being the wiser—or any less satisfied with his efforts.
    Of course he spoke for Glengask, but he had the feeling that admitting to being the marquis’s brother wouldn’t gain him any favors. It might earn him a ball in the chest, in fact.
    This redheaded lass was quite the puzzle, really. In addition to her general hostility and skill with firearms, she didn’t seem to be the least bit charmed by him. And he’d never until