The Kindling Heart Read Online Free PDF

catching only a glimpse of a bald head before instinctively swinging into action.
    Raph had found her.
    Emotions flared to life, igniting her very soul as fingers of steel gripped her arm. She screamed a high, piercing shriek. Clawing and kicking, she launched an attack that, judging by the startled grunts of pain, succeeded in striking at least a few of her intended targets.
    All at once, the fingers released their grip, and she whirled to escape only to find Afraig blocking her way.
    “Let me pass!” she gasped.
    Oddly, Afraig grinned, shaking her head, “Stay, lass! Ye will be safe now! Can ye believe the luck of this? ‘Tis a miracle he arrived the same day as Cuilen’s message!”
    “Same day?” the voice was snorting. “That was sent nigh on four months past!”
    Too panicked to listen more, Bree forged ahead, attempting to shove Afraig aside, but the woman was stronger than she appeared. After a brief struggle, she was once again caught in a vice grip, this time Afraig’s.
    It was too much and Bree sank to the floor with a low sob. “Let me go. I beg you! I’ll not marry him! I can’t! You know I can’t! Not Raph!”
    “There now, lass.” the kindly male voice mumbled from somewhere above. “Surely, there’s nae to fear from a husband, now, is there?”
    The voice was deep and kind, and the accent strangely familiar. The words shifted into a smooth lilt; odd words ones she almost recognized.
    Afraig replied in the same manner and then Bree understood.
    Gaelic. The man was speaking Gaelic. Hope instantly replaced despair. Afraig’s kin had arrived, not Raph! Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she sprang to her feet, turning eagerly to the stranger.
    Like Raph, he was almost bald and what little hair remained was gray, but there the resemblance ended. The man was of medium height and clad in a travel-stained plaid. His face was weathered and lined, but he was not particularly old. He stood stiffly, hunched to one side, observing her with bright green eyes that reflected sympathy mixed with a dash of amusement.
    “Are ye done bleating like a sheep?” he asked with a pleasant burr before turning to Afraig. “Yer making no sense, woman.”
    “Aye, and ye should be listening, Domnall,” Afraig chuckled. Brushing him aside to hold both hands out to Bree, she continued, “’Tis a warm welcome ye’ve given yer father, love, and no mistake! Ye nearly unmanned him!”
    Bree froze. Her vision narrowed, blocking everything except the stunned man standing next to her. Time stood still as they stared at each other in mutual shock, and it seemed an eternity before she could breathe and sound once again returned.
    Dimly, she heard Afraig chuckling.
    Domnall lips parted as his brows climbed into his hairline. “Ye be … daft, woman!” he finally managed in a hoarse whisper.
    “She has MacBethad eyes and hair,” Afraig snorted. Placing a hand under Bree’s chin to tilt it upwards, she added, “Can ye even doubt it?”
    “She … she canna be … mine,” he murmured, but with words couched in uncertainty.
    “Open yer eyes, man!” Afraig chuckled, “How can ye deny her?”
    Bree held still, shocked.
    After a time, he whispered, “Jenet?”
    “Aye,” Afraig said with a nod.
    Bree winced, not wanting to think of her mother.
    “I…” Domnall began, licking his lips several times before falling silent.
    “I know ‘tis a wee bit surprising,” Afraig beamed, drawing them both closer to the hearth, “but while ye adjust to the truth ye’ve got a fine, wee lassie, I’ll finish my words. Aislin’s carrying another bairn, so, ye canna take her. That MacLeod will nae want her—bless his soul—even though he be a MacLeod. Why, he—”
    “Silence, woman!” Domnall growled. “I’ll nae speak of Aislin now!”
    Clearly agitated, he clasped his hands behind his mud-caked plaid and began to pace, directing a dark frown in Afraig’s direction as she slipped into Gaelic once more.
    Bree’s heart