Winning the Highlander's Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

she ought not have done.
     “The business is not yours.”  She sipped more of her wine, trying to reduce her annoyance.
    “The king has made it my business, if you are Lady Anice, Countess of Brecken of Glen Affric.”  He bowed his head slightly.  “I am Malcolm MacNeill, Earl of Pembrinton.  This is my youngest brother, Angus.  O’er yonder is our brother, Dougald.  We have been given positions on your staff.”
    “What?”  The Highlander was daft.  Had he been nipping at the wine cask before the meal?  Her steward made the selections for her staff while she was away.  Not the king.
    “I have been given the job to oversee your properties until you take a husband.  For now, I am your humble steward, milady.”  Again, he bowed his head.
    She stared at him, wondering if the king had taken leave of his senses.  Matilda had said nothing to her about any of this.  Yet, a trickle of dread wormed its way into her stomach.  Was this what Matilda had needed to talk to her about following the meal?
    Nay, the MacNeill was mistaken.  “I have a steward, Laird MacNeill, thank you verra much.  So you’d best tell the king you are back in the market for an English bride.”
    Malcolm set his knife down, a look of concern reflected in his dark eyes.  “There has been a wee bit o’ a scandal at Brecken.  I thought you had been apprised of the situation, ergo your reason for trying to leave the grounds before the meal.  Your steward, chamberlain, and treasurer have all vanished without a trace.”
    Anice struggled to make sense of the news.  The blood rapidly drained from her face, forcing a dizziness to wash over her.  She grabbed the oak table to steady herself.
    Malcolm’s hand seized her arm before the great hall grew dark, as if the day had turned to night without tallow to light the way.
    *  *  *
    Malcolm paced across the grassy bailey, his head pounding with gusto, furious with himself for breaking the news to Lady Anice in such a forthright manner.  Truly, he thought her trip to the stables and subsequent tongue-lashing of the marshal, evidence she wished to return home at once and take matters in hand.
    But he should have ensured she had been apprised of the situation beforehand.  Beyond that, he should have learned the lady was of delicate temperament.  Though, determining she was Scottish born gave him the false impression she would have more fortitude.  Still, she was a lady, and he should have taken that into account.
    No way had he wanted to cause the scene that followed during the meal.
    His brothers now watched him as he paced, trying to settle his discomfiture.  Worry etched across Angus’s wrinkled brow.  Dougald’s lips, on the other hand, curved upward in a devilish smirk.  Dougald was the one who usually got himself into dilemmas with the ladies.  Malcolm preferred the battlefield, fighting man-to-man, not dealing with women and their highly emotional states, which could lead a man to an early grave.
    Everything that had occurred ran through his mind again.  The look of utter horror on Lady Anice’s face.  The fading of color from her cheeks until she was paler than the moon.  Her lower lip had trembled and at once, he’d wanted to take every word he’d spoken back.  How could he have hurt her so?  But it did not stop there.  Her green eyes could not have widened any further, then tears had clouded them, though she had managed to keep the tears in check with some difficulty.  There was no sight, no battle, nothing that could bring him to his knees like the tears of a woman.
    Particularly when he’d brought them about.
    “Think you the king will change his mind about us taking the lady’s deserted staff positions?” Angus asked.  Anxiety threaded his words, always the worrier of the three, though despite his youth, Malcolm’s youngest brother had seen enough bloodshed for two lifetimes.
    “If so, we can pursue our previous intentions.”  When his brothers