The Lover Read Online Free PDF Page A

breeches. Then turning, he made for the crystal decanter on the mahogany side table and poured himself a tumbler full of malt whisky.
    Declining his silent offer of a drink with a shake of her head, Eve lay back on the table, stretched her arms lazily above her, and gave a replete sigh.
    “To what do I owe the honor of this call, my lord? I vow I haven’t been ravished so well since…since your last visit. It has been months since you’ve shared my bed, Niall. Indeed, I’ve scarcely even laid eyes on you since you became laird.”
    “Clan duties have occupied far more of my time than I envisioned,” Niall prevaricated.
    “I have missed you sorely.”
    “And I you, sweeting,” he murmured, his mind elsewhere.
    “Niall, will you not tell me what is troubling you?”
    “How do you ken something troubles me?”
    Her smile was indulgent. “That black scowl you’re wearing is proof enough, even had I not felt it in your embrace. And I don’t remember ever seeing you quite so distracted. Tell me about it, and perhaps I can help.”
    “I rather doubt you can.” His mouth curled cynically. “Tomorrow I ride to fetch my bride.”
    “Bride?”
The word was a gasp. “You are to
marry
?”
    “The idea is not mine, I assure you.”
    “Then what…?”
    “Angus Duncan has demanded that I wed his granddaughter to fulfill a debt my father owed him.”
    “What debt could possibly require such a high price as payment?”
    “Angus once saved his life. My father promised him any boon he asked.”
    “Oh.” Falling silent for a moment, Eve raised herself to a sitting position on the table, before saying regretfully, “Then you have no choice. I had thought…hoped…we…”
    He knew what she had hoped. As a wealthy widow and one of his nearest neighbors, Eve Graham had contemplated a match between them for years. And she might have been an acceptable choice, had she cared ought for clan affairs. But new ball gowns and elegant soirees were her chief interests. And she had already run through the greater portion of her late husband’s fortune. Eve was not the bride for him, Niall knew.
    Nor was Mistress Sabrina Duncan.
    Niall muttered another oath. Angus’s demand this afternoon had left him feeling cornered, trapped. It was not a pleasant sentiment.
    “Why has this matter come to a head now?” Eve asked. “Because Angus is dying?”
    “Just so. He fears Clan Duncan will be leaderless at his death, at the mercy of any rival clan, most particularly the Buchanans. Angus wants a strong laird to insure his kinsmen’s protection after he’s gone and has chosen me for the task.”
    Niall took a long swallow of whisky, welcoming its sweet burn as he recalled Angus’s weakened voice imploring him.
    Ye’re a warrior born and bred, lad, despite yer randy ways, and I need a good mon to lead my clan after I’m gone. The Duncans will follow you willingly into battle, ’tis all I care about. As for the rest, yer eight and twenty, lad. ’Tis time you settled down to raise a family. You’ll find wedlock no’ so burdensome as ye fear.
    Niall grimaced. It was not wedlock he objected to. He was the McLaren now, chief of a mighty Highland tribe, and as such, he would eventually need heirs to succeed him. Yet he preferred to choose his bride himself.
    He had never expected to become laird of his clan. In truth, he would give his own life to have his father and brother back, hale and hardy. It was Jamie who should have succeeded to the lairdship. Jamie who had been groomed to fight and breed strong sons to carry on the line. Or Thomas. Hugh McLaren’s middle son had perished in a storm at sea two years before while crossing the Channel to France.
    Niall had accepted the chieftain’s reins with grave reluctance and a fierce determination to prove himself worthy of the momentous responsibility. Over the past seven months he’d managed to demonstrate an able leadership, avenging his kinsmen’s murders in a swift raid on the