When the Laird Returns Read Online Free PDF

guard was pushed aside. An older man stepped into the threshold and stared at him.
    The wrinkles on his face marked him at near Alisdair’s father’s age, but while Ian MacRae still drew the eyes of the ladies, Alisdair doubted a female would look twice in this man’s direction. His nose, pocked and swollen, sat in the middle of a face weathered and burned brown by the sun. His brown hair, laced with gray, fell to his shoulders untied, and bushy eyebrows sat atop deep-set eyes now narrowed in instant dislike.
    Magnus Drummond.
    “It’s you who’ve banished my sheep from their own grazing ground,” he said roughly.
    There were to be no pleasantries, then, which was just as well. Alisdair had no time to waste on false courtesy.
    “If they were grazing on my land,” Alisdair said, crossing his arms over his chest.
    “What reason do you have for thinking it’s yours?” Drummond asked, frowning.
    “The reason is that I’m a MacRae,” Alisdair said firmly, stepping forward. “The descendant of the old laird.”
    “If you’re truly who you say you are, then where have you been all these years?”
    “Over the sea,” Alisdair said, not wishing to give Drummond any more information than that.
    “Well, you can just go back there,” Drummond said. “I’m the owner in the eyes of the law. The English ceded it to me years ago.”
    “Then they gave something away that they never owned,” Alisdair said, pushing back his irritation. “If a thief steals a cow from one man and sells it to another, it only means that both men have been cheated.”
    “I care not if you are a MacLeod or a MacRae or a MacRath,” Drummond said stonily. “The land is mine.”
    The men aligned behind Drummond took one step forward.
    “My family has lived here for six hundred years, Drummond. I think that claim outweighs your gift from the English,” Alisdair said tightly.
    “Shall we send it to the courts, then, upstart?” Drummond asked, looking pleased.
    Alisdair must have betrayed something in his expression, because Drummond began to smile. “Did you think it would be that easy? March in here, declare yourself a MacRae, and have me weep at your feet?”
    “I haven’t got time for the courts,” Alisdair said stiffly.
    “Then you should count your losses now, before they grow even larger. It’ll be a waste of time for you anyway, since I’ve never lost a claim.”
    The older man’s smile was grating, Alisdair thought, as if Drummond knew and enjoyed his growing anger.
    “Do you make a point of stealing land from your countrymen, Drummond?” Alisdair asked, clasping his hands behind him. The pose was a natural one for him, revealing him as a man of the sea.
    “You’ll find that the Highlands are better suited to sheep than men, MacRae,” Drummond said, beginning to close the door.
    Alisdair slapped his hand on it. “Sell it to me,” he said impulsively.
    Drummond’s lips twisted into a grin. He waved his men away and surveyed Alisdair with narrowed eyes. “A MacRae buying land he claims as his? Why?”
    “Because I’ve no time for courts or judges,” Alisdair said shortly.
    “And you’re not sure you’ll win?” Drummond stepped aside, inviting Alisdair into his home with a sweep of his arm.
    Alisdair turned and looked at Daniel. His first mate was standing with arms crossed, a frown on his face. His foot tapped impatiently against the dirt, a sign he was not pleased.
    “If you don’t come out in an hour,” Daniel threatened, “I’m fetching the crew.” Alisdair nodded, but doubted that Drummond would kill him, especially not since he’d tapped the other man’s greed. But it was wise to be cautious. Alisdair entered Fernleigh, following Drummond, the man’s two guards behind him.
    Fernleigh’s curving stone steps hugged the wall, wound up into clouds of shadows. Walls and floors, staircase and roof, were all formed of the same dull gray stone, lit now by slanting rays of sunlight entering from high