The MacKinnon's Bride Read Online Free PDF

his shoulders, and his
stance was one bred of confidence. He was a man born to lead, she
couldn’t help but cede.
    Was he a murderer, as well?
    The prospect made her throat tighten with
renewed fear.
    Her heart lurched. What would he do when he
discovered her father wouldn’t deal with him?
    She couldn’t even begin to make out their
discourse, and then the one called Lagan left the MacKinnon’s side
to jostle another man awake.
    He whispered something into the man’s ear
and the man rose at once, shaking off his slumber. Together the two
spoke to the MacKinnon and then stumbled off into the shadowy realm
beyond the fire’s brightness.
    Only Page and the MacKinnon remained still
awake.
    Starting at the realization, Page turned to
look at him and gasped to find him simply standing there, watching
her, the firelight playing upon his face, making his harsh features
appear all the harsher for the contrasting shadows. She prayed he
couldn’t see her where she sat so far from the light, and was
relieved when he turned and bent to retrieve something that lay
beside the fire. Her relief was short-lived, however, for he
pivoted suddenly and came toward her, and a shock of pure hysteria
skittered through her.
    Reacting instinctively, Page slammed her
head backward against the tree trunk and swore a silent oath,
closing her eyes, feigning sleep. Jesu, but she was being foolish!
She knew it, and still couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t face him
just now. She didn’t know why, she just couldn’t. Tears sprang to
her eyes.
    He values you? the ghost of his voice whispered in her ear, and
the question tormented her. She had to remind herself he’d not
spoken it aloud. ’ Twas merely her
imagination mocking her, making her the fool.
    His footfall was light, but Page could make
out the soft sound of moss surrendering beneath his leather-soled
feet and knew the moment when he stood before her.
    Bare limbed.
    The thought accosted her from nowhere, and
her heart gave a little start, beating faster as he crouched down
beside her—at least she imagined he crouched. She could swear that
he did, for she thought she felt the heat of his breath against her
cheek.
    A sigh blew across her face.
    Or had she imagined it?
    Merciful Lord, was he watching her so
intently?
    Nay... oh, nay...
    Her heart began to flounder, and she tried
not to panic, tried to pretend he wasn’t hovering so close,
scrutinizing her every breath, but failed miserably. She knew that
he was, and was only grateful for the veil of darkness to conceal
her when she felt the telltale flush creep up from her breast, to
her throat and face, warming her.
    And then suddenly her heart slammed to a
halt, for he touched her—sweet Mary, the way that he touched
her.
    Her breath left her, and her body quivered
as his hand cupped her face, the gesture so much a tender caress.
She leaned her face hungrily into the warmth of his palm, and then
realized what she’d done, and her eyes flew wide. She drew in a
breath, and lifted her face to his.
    Their gazes met, held, locked.
    He didn’t remove his hand, and Page, though
startled by the embrace, could scarce protest with the rag still
filling her mouth. Scarce could she breathe. Scarce could she
think.
    With a gentleness that belied his strength
and size, he brushed his thumb across the hollow above her cheek,
and Page closed her eyes and felt the sting of tears anew.
    How inconceivable it was that this man, this
stranger, her captor, would be the very first to touch her so
gently?
    “ Dinna be weepin’,” he
whispered.
    Was she? Page nearly choked on her denial.
She hadn’t even realized.
    He removed the gag from her mouth and
brought it to his nostrils. They flared at the stench and he
glowered, tossing it away. She swallowed with difficulty. “Damn
Lagan,” he grumbled, and shook his head in disgust.
    Page couldn’t find her voice to speak, but
it wouldn’t have mattered, she wouldn’t have known what to say.
    So near,