The Scottish Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

above the ground, cold and stark against the Scottish skies. No, Kildrummy was newer, with its slate roof and light gray stone walls.
    â€œWhat do you think, Meggie?” he asked, pulling Big Fellow next to where she was leaning out the carriage window to see.
    â€œIt’s sitting up on that barren stretch right over the sea like a big bird of prey,” Meggie said. “There’s that huge forest just off there to the left, but nothing close to the castle. Goodness, it’s all bare land and it looks like there are deep ditches all through it. We should fill in all those ditches. We should plant trees. It is too stark, too forbidding.” She licked her lips and frowned just a bit. “It’s scary,” she added. “And lonely. But the forest just beyond is lovely.”
    Tysen, whose memory of Kildrummy was that of a ten-year-old boy, had agreed with Meggie. That stretch from the castle to the forest was an ugly piece of land. It was stark, and barren, what with all those strewn rocks and boulders. Those jagged ditches, or whatever they were, were dangerous. Walking or riding through that land would require a good deal of attention.
    Now, as a man, however, he believed it magnificent. He wouldn’t have changed a thing. He would have made his way carefully through all the boulders and crevices and admired it. But if Meggie wanted trees, she would have them. If she wanted all those crevices filled in, so be it. He said, “I will inquire what trees would best survive here. We’ll have to examine all those ditches and see where we would get enough dirt to fill them. You, mygirl, can find out about the flowers outside the castle walls.”
    She beamed at him and he frowned. Oh, dear, she saw that he was still upset with her. She said in a very small voice, “I wonder if any of the round turrets are bedcham-bers. I would really like that.”
    â€œWe will see,” Tysen said, realizing he shouldn’t say yes to her immediately. He was still infinitely upset with her. He still awoke in the middle of the night, his belly cramping at the thought of his ten-year-old daughter hugging the back of the carriage, splattered with mud and rain, sleeping in the stables. He drew a deep breath. Had Douglas or Ryder been her father, he didn’t doubt for a moment that they would have thrashed her.
    Sinjun had come up with no proper punishment by the time they’d left, and Tysen was still stymied.
    Kildrummy Castle. It was his now. He was Lord Barthwick.
    Â 
    Late that night after the sun had finally dropped behind the hillocks in the west and the air was clear with just a touch of light left, Meggie sat on her narrow bed in the south turret that looked over the barren stretch to the forest—lush and green and covered with pine trees and the occasional sheep. She mentally began her planting, staring at the closed-in inner courtyard of the castle. But every time she thought of something colorful to plant she thought also of her father’s anger at her. Not that he ever acted angry. No, he acted disappointed, just looking at her, all aloof, with distress in his eyes, and that was much worse. Meggie sighed and slid deeper under the fat quilt that was older than her father, maybe even her grandfather.
    At dinner her father had been polite, just as he’d been since Edinburgh, nothing more—surely no outward showof anger. She remembered the one time he’d actually raised his voice and spanked her. That had been when she’d tied the bells to the goat and he’d played a rather clever tune, if one attended to it carefully.
    She wished he would yell again, maybe even thrash her. At least it might make him forgive her more quickly. She remembered once when Uncle Douglas had yelled at one of the twins—Jason—and smacked his bottom three times. Then Uncle Douglas had picked him up, scoured his head with his knuckles, told him he was an idiot, tucked him under