To Bewitch a Highlander (Isle of Mull series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

cave and traversed its full length, searching behind every rock and within even the smallest alcove. Despite her larger than life presence, she had been slight of build. She could easily hide in the low shadows. As he searched, he once again wondered about her identity.
    He knew every maid from Gribun to Benmore Mountain, but he could not recall ever meeting her—an occasion he was sure would have been burned forever into exquisite memory. He was also certain that she lived outside the protection of a clan. Why else would she be alone in the woods hunting of all things? Although he still harbored some annoyance over being left for dead, he couldn’t help but admire her bravery. But then the image of the unwavering huntress soon gave way to the girl with wide, frightened eyes. Her unguarded vulnerability touched him. He wanted to take her into his arms right at that moment and stroke the soft loveliness of her hair and her silken skin. He would shield her from ever knowing fear again. But where was she? Who was she?
    He dismissed the notion of her being one of the fair folk. Her emotional display revealed her humanity. He also momentarily toyed with the idea that she was a weapon of the MacLeans—a decoy to make men lustful and fall into ravines, but this seemed more implausible than the first. Her existence was his only certitude, and if she existed, then she could be found.
    He exited another cave and turned his back to scan the ridges of the cliffs above to place his location on the coast, but nothing was familiar. Only a small region of Northern Mull remained unknown to his clan, the western cliffs of the Witch of Dervaig. A chill coursed down his spine as he realized his proximity to her lair.
    Imagining her evil visage, he started as he heard a splash. He gazed out to sea, but the waves were gently lapping undisturbed at the rocks. Then he heard another splash and realized the sound was emanating from further down the coast. He wished to turn away and return home, but his desire to find the girl smothered his fear. He took a deep breath. The smell of salt and seaweed was pungent and rich, and the sun dipped low in the sky, illuminating everything with its blinding reflection. He climbed over several jagged boulders and across little gullies of water in the direction of the noise. Almost losing his balance, he lumbered over slick rocks that would be far beneath the water’s surface when the tides came in. He pulled himself atop a large boulder that dominated the area, hoping to find a decent vantage point. But just as he rounded the surface, he spotted trim pale legs disappearing beneath the waters of a wide pool at the boulder’s base.
    The pool gave him pause with its splendor. Several boulders were positioned in a perfect circle, which gave shape to the pool, and the darkness of the water attested to its impressive depth and also concealed the diver. He waited, but the person in question had yet to resurface. For a moment, his unease returned. The swimmer might be the Witch, but he had seen youthful legs, not those of an old crone.
    Ronan sat perched on the rock, his concern mounting with every passing moment. Whoever was down there, he was certain, had met with trouble. Perhaps a loose rock shifted, pinning them to the sea bed, and at that moment they struggled to break free. Ronan stood and ripped off his belt, plaid, and sword, leaving them in a pile on the rock. He kept his dirk sheathed and strapped to his thigh lest the situation demand a blade, whether to cut the victim free or to save himself if the swimmer proved to be the Witch in disguise. He filled his lungs and dove into the icy waters.
    ***
    Shoney gripped a large rock with one hand to keep from rising to the surface and was hurriedly scooping handfuls of Dulse with the other, putting the slimy clusters into the sack hanging about her neck. Dulse was her favorite seaweed. Its translucent pink color was hard to spot, but it grew in bushels at the