The Laird (Captive Hearts) Read Online Free PDF

least we can do for Angus, as much of the running of the place as he’s taken on. Will your cousins join us for meals?”
    As Brenna finished her cheese and washed it down with the last of her wine, it occurred to her that Michael was much concerned with reconnecting with his people. He wanted to review his staff first thing in the day, had asked for a list of the departed before he’d taken his bath, and now wanted to know the comings and goings of Brenna’s cousins and their families.
    “Come,” she said, rising. “I will answer your questions as we walk.”
    Because she’d moved dinner up, and because they were in the Highlands, the sun was not yet set. In high summer, the gloaming lasted for hours—hours when work might be done, or a husband might be reasoned with.
    “Where are you taking me, Brenna?” He was amused, not in fear of a kidnapping.
    “You asked me to list for you all of those who’ve left your holdings in your absence. We’ll start that list down by the kirk.”
    The castle chapel had been demolished in some long-past wave of reformatory zeal and the stones reused for other structures, so Brenna led her spouse through the postern gate and down the wooded hill toward the village.
    “Even the trees are taller,” Michael said. “Do we still have as much venison as we want?”
    “We do, and thank God for it. Venison and potatoes, salmon when they’re running, grouse, mutton, oats most years, and we trade wool for much else. I’m jealous of my kitchen gardens, and the conservatory provides a few delicacies. I suppose Angus would have discussed the crops with you.”
    That was as close as Brenna could come to asking about the hour Michael had spent behind a closed door with his uncle. Angus would share his version of Brenna’s history with Michael, and he’d do it at the time and place most likely to benefit Angus and burden Brenna—or destroy her.
    Michael took her hand. Just slid his fingers through hers, and kept right on walking, while Brenna lost track of every thought in her head.
    “Angus complained, of course,” Michael said. “Cheerfully, because we Scots always complain cheerfully, but he let it be known I am much indebted to him for cobbling together ten more years of solvency on land that begrudges even the hardiest sheep a living.”
    “Five years,” Brenna said. “Your da didn’t fall from his horse until five years ago, and he managed his land properly until the end.” Though he hadn’t managed much else well.
    “May we rest a moment?” Michael didn’t drop her hand, but instead came to a stop at a small clearing. Heather sprang up amid the bracken, and evening sunlight slanted through deep forest shadows. The scents were fresh, green, and soothing.
    Michael had endured hardship after hardship with the military. He was not asking to rest because his feet were tired.
    “It will be dark soon,” Brenna observed.
    Still, Michael did not drop her hand. “A soldier learns to treasure beauty where he finds it. Tell me about the day my father died.”
    Five years ago, Brenna hadn’t known where to write to her husband, or if he was even still alive.
    “Shall we sit, Husband?”
    Ages ago, somebody had graced the clearing with a plain plank bench, and that bench had endured too. Brenna untangled her hand from Michael’s and took a seat, but the infernal man simply came down beside her and recaptured her hand.
    “Were you here when he died?”
    “I was with him. He asked that I remember him to you and tell you he was proud of you.”
    Michael hunched forward, one forearm braced on his thigh. He stayed that way for a long moment before he spoke.
    “If we are blessed with children, we will tell them we are proud of them, but we will also tell them we love them, and when they are gone from us, we will tell them we miss them and pray for their safety every night.”
    “Aye.”
    She hurt for him, despite all intention to the contrary, because he wasn’t the cheerful,