The Chief Read Online Free PDF Page B

table. “Do nothing and you will feel the squeeze of Edward’s iron fist soon enough even on Skye. Edward might be far away, but his new minion MacDougall is not.”
    “All the more reason not to anger him.” Though Tor’s sympathies lay with Angus Og MacDonald, he’d carefully avoided taking sides in the feud between the kinsmen. He didn’t need John MacDougall breathing down his neck; he had more pressing concerns. But unfortunately, Nicolson had yet to arrive.
    “We will make it worth your while,” Lamberton insisted, changing tactics and trying to dispel the growing tension. “Fraser here has two unmarried daughters, both of whom are very beautiful and come with rich tochers of land.”
    “Which won’t be worth anything if you lose,” Tor said bluntly. “Edward will dispossess all who fight against him of their land and titles—after he divests them of their heads. I’m rather attached to mine.”
    “He has you there,” MacSorley said with a good-natured laugh. “Edward has quite a growing collection of Scottish ornaments adorning the gates of his castles.”
    MacDonald gave his henchman a glowering look, but MacSorley just shrugged with an unrepentant grin.
    The offer of marriage did not tempt Tor. He’d been married before and felt no urgency to take another wife. He had sons. His wife had died almost eight years ago while giving birth to their second son. Murdoch and Malcolm were being fostered on the Isle of Lewis.
    If
he married again, it would be to seek an alliance with the western seaboard—Ireland or the Isle of Man—to increase his clan’s power and prestige, not with the daughter of a Scottish noble. But not wishing to give offense, he turned to Fraser. “I thank you for your offer. I’m sure your daughters are very beautiful”—as all ladies of noble birth were in marriage negotiations—“but I’ve no wish to take a wife.”
    Fraser nodded, but Tor could see his cursory dismissal had angered the proud nobleman. Something about the old warrior bothered him. In a room full of battle-hardened warriors, Fraser’s eyes burned too hotly. Emotion like that was dangerous; it had no place on the battlefield—or in the council chamber. Cool and controlled were the mark of a shrewd leader and warrior.
    MacDonald leaned back and gave Tor an amused look, some of his earlier anger fading. “Perhaps you will change your mind when you meet them?”
    Tor shook his head. “My mind is made up.” Unlike his brother, no woman—no matter how beautiful—would ever make him lay aside his duty. “You’ll have to find someone else to lead your secret band of Highlanders.”
    —
    Over the long journey from Stirlingshire to Islay, Christina had almost succeeded in convincing herself that it wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe Tormod MacLeod—she’dlearned the name of the Island chief her father sought to wed her to—wasn’t a brute at all but a gallant and chivalrous knight.
    The moment she arrived at Finlaggan, however, she knew her imagination had run away with her again. It was worse than she’d originally feared.
Much
worse. Never had she seen so many terrifying-looking men in one place. Nay, not men, but warriors. These Islanders looked as if they did nothing but fight. It was in their blood and bred into their bones—from the fierce, battle-scarred visages locked in perpetual scowls to their extraordinary size.
    The latter proved truly disconcerting.
    Even without chain mail—they wore shockingly little armor—the men from the Isles seemed taller and broader than their Lowland counterparts. Everywhere she looked stood men well over six feet tall, stacked with layer upon layer of bulky muscle. Their arms in particular—thick and ripped with rock-hard muscle—seemed built for wielding the terrifying two-handed swords, war hammers, battleaxes, and other instruments of warfare they wore strapped to their bodies. And it wasn’t just the men; the women, too, were tall and strong. A veritable