The Fraser Bride Read Online Free PDF

‘Twill set you to dreaming, it will. But you’ll feel the better for the rest.”
    * * * * *
    “So what be your name, me wee one? I’ve not seen you about Evermyst before. Mayhap you’ve been hiding from the spirit, too?”
    The girl said nothing, for she could not. Indeed, her heart was beating too hard for her to speak.
    “The quiet sort.” The Munro laughed, nearly blocking out the sound of the sea that she so loved. His beard was bushy, as red as rowan berries, and it set to quivering with his mirth. ” ‘Tis me favorite type of maid. Come hither, lass.”
    She shook her head, setting her droopy coif to waggling as she backed a step away.
    “Relax, lassie. Have you not heard? I’m to be the new laird of this keep soon. ‘Twould be wise of you to make friends whilst you can, eh? Before your mistress returns. Come hither.”
    Her legs were shaking and her hands, pressed against her soiled gown, felt damp with fear. “Please, me laird,” she whispered, “me lady has been good to me and I’ve no wish to displease her.”
    “Displease her?” He laughed again. “So you think your mistress will be unwilling to share me?”
    “I … I only know that—” she began, but in that moment he leapt.
    He was ungodly quick for a big man. She tried to twist away, tried to escape, but there was no hope. His hand closed like a giant claw around her arm and she was swung toward him.
    “There now, no need for fear, lass. I only—” His words stopped, ending in a hiss of surprise as his eyes widened, then narrowed. “Who are you?”
    Her muscles ached with tension, and her lungs cramped with fear.
    “Who the devil are you?” Reaching up, he snatched the drooping coif from her head. Golden tresses fell unencumbered to her waist, and without the dowdy headdress every inch of her face was visible. “Witch!” he rasped and yanked his sword from its sheath.
    * * * * *
    “Nay!” Anora awoke with a gasp, one arm covering her face, but no blade descended to end her life. ‘Twas a dream. Just a—
    But no. She knew better. ‘Twas a harbinger of things that might be.
    She must return to Evermyst! Immediately.
    The floor felt cold against her bare feet, but she barely noticed, for already she was running, racing through the doorway toward the stairs.
    Her mind spun. She must find Pearl. Leave Dun Ard. Head north. There was no time to delay, no time to stop, and no time to avoid the man who loomed before her. She struck him full on and fell, tumbling backward. Her feet scrambled as she tried to regain her balance, to escape, but he was already reaching for her.
    “Nay!” She tried to twist away, but he pulled her back.
    “Relax, lassie,” he said, and she froze. The words of her dream quivered like a spent arrow through her mind. In the darkness she could not see her captor’s face, but she knew him.
    “Munro,” she whispered.
    “Who are you?” he asked.
    “Let me go!”
    “And why should I?”
    She was shaking, straining away from him. “Let me be. You are neither peaceable nor beloved,” she rambled wildly.
    “What’s that?”
    She froze at the sound of his voice, for it was not raspy and hoarse, but smooth and bonny and surprised.
    “Who …” She tried to stop her shaking, to see through the gloom. “Who are you?”
    Silence again, then, “I believe I asked that first.”
    “I am …” She couldn’t remember her lies. They were becoming twisted in her mind, melded with her frantic dreams. Where was she?
Who
was she?
    “Are you well, lass?”
    “Aye, but I must—” She must what? Run into the night like a demented banshee? She realized suddenly that he was leading her away like a lambkin on a string, and yet she could not seem to resist. The blackness of the hall receded beneath a distant glimmer of light. They turned a corner and he glanced toward her. His eyes struck her, soulful and intense. His hair, tossed as if by restless sleep, shone like polished mahogany in the tallow light. He was