[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
feathering a strange, simmering warmth within. "Welcome aboard. She is a
goddess. Beautiful. Alluring. She has cast a spell upon me. We will spend our
wedding night aboard her. The tunnel is guarded now by my men. No one will
disturb us."
Chapter Eight
"Where is she?" Huntington strode through The MacPherson castle. His fury sent
many of the servants scurrying out of his way. He slammed his fist against the
heavy oak table and whirled on Ian. "Where is she?" he roared the question once
more. "Hand her over, now!"
Nonchalantly, Ian leaned back in his chair and set his feet upon a table near the
fire. One of his hounds nosed his hand and Ian rubbed the dog's ears. The other
hound growled at Huntington.
"Lady MacPherson?" he queried softly. "Or do ye speak of some other lady?" Ian
sipped the ale that had been set before him. He rose suddenly, his hands braced
on the table, one eyebrow quirked upward. "Why, Lord Huntington, where are my
manners? Ye and your men must be hungry and nearly parched after the long
journey to the Highlands." He called out to one of the servants and waved a hand.
"See that Lord Huntington and his men are well fed and have plenty to drink. They
will need a place to stay, too. Make sure they are all comfortable."
Huntington sputtered, his eyes wild, his jaw clenched tight. "Lady MacPherson?
Surely ye jest? Callie would never marry ye, a MacPherson."
Ian stood, his own anger beginning to simmer and burn within. Yet he willed
himself to control the seething boil. "My brother is wed to her. Do not carry your
insults toward The MacPherson clan too far. Ye might come to regret your words
as well as your attitude."
Clearly taken by surprise, Huntington still tried to ignore the less than subtle threat
Ian hurled his way. "Who? Who in their right mind would wed a MacPherson to a
Whitcomb? There is no priest in the land who would do such a thing." Simon
strode the length of the hall, then back, his fists clenched at his sides, a nervous
tic at the base of his neck. "A fool, that is what he is. Show me this so-called
priest."
Father MacMurdo stepped forward, his shoulders squared, a grim determined look
on his features. "I married them. They are very much in love. Smitten, one might
say."
Huntington whirled, his temper now directed toward Father MacMurdo. "How dare
ye. I am her betrothed. She had no permission to wed anyone save me."
"Yet she did."
"Then undo it!" Huntington roared.
Paul shrugged. "I did not know. Lady Callie made no mention of a betrothed to me
and she said her vows quite enthusiastically. I'm deeply sorry, but this cannot be
undone, as ye so casually phrase the marriage."
"That is no excuse," Huntington railed once more. "I will have this undone. The
marriage will be annulled."
Paul stepped forward. Once again he spoke, "Ye cannot have this marriage
undone or annulled. The lady was willing, as was Colin. Once the vows are
consummated there is naught ye can do."
"I will stop this fiasco." Huntington turned and strode toward the stairs leading to
the rooms above. "Where are they?" He shouted to his men. "Find them!"
Lachlan and several other men stepped in front of Huntington, whose hand was
now on the hilt of his sword, his jaw clenched tight.
"Nay, ye cannae enter the upstairs without the laird's permission. I cannot allow
this," Lachlan said with authority, his eyes alight with a simmering fury and with the
promise of a good fight.
"I will go where I want." Huntington turned to his own men. Bertie moved quickly to
his side, his own hand settled and battle-ready on the hilt of his sword.
"Nay," Lachlan began once again.
"Let them," Ian said, his voice a low growl. Yet Ian knew this would not end here
tonight. And he knew Huntington's rage would be even hotter when he learned the
bride and groom were not above in the groom's solar.
"Go!" Huntington roared to his men as Lachlan stepped aside.
"We have nothing to hide." Ian forced a grin and leaned casually against the wall,
his arms crossed in front of him, staring at the men as they filed one by one
upstairs.
Huntington turned once more, sputtering. "This is a useless ploy. They are not
there, are they? Where are they? Ye do not want to bring Henry's wrath down
upon your heads. Tell me where they are!"
"Ye will not find them. They have left the castle to celebrate their wedding alone.
And Henry would never dare to interfere in affairs of the church unless it was to
change or annul a marriage of his own. Ye know that. Callie is wed. Forget about
her and find some other young heiress to bolster your wealth."
Huntington breathed in deeply then let the air out slowly, his face a livid, red color.
"Ye have not heard the last of this."
Father MacMurdo stepped forward, a holy smile upon his face. "Those God has
joined together in holy matrimony, let no man stand in the way."
Huntington whirled on one boot heel. "Where are my quarters?"
Ian nodded to one of his men. "Show them the way."
* * *
Flimsy wisps of clouds drifted across the moon and a slight breeze blew in from
the north. Stars twinkled in the midnight black sky. Callie wrapped her arms tightly
around herself, warding off the chill of the cold night air and fear of the new events
to come.
The small boat that carried them to Hawke's ship rocked with the soft lapping
waves that washed against the sides. Hawke rode in the bow of the boat, his long
legs stretched out in front of him, his hands resting on his thighs.
He watched her, his eyes penetrating, his expression grim and filled with some
tenuous feeling she didn't understand. The deep searing blue of his eyes seemed
to impale her. Tears stung her eyes. Oh, she knew he loathed her father and the
Whitcomb name, but she was never sure how he felt about her.
Marriage, though?
She froze. Her body stiffened. The thought sent more chills sweeping through her,
sending shivers within. He must truly despise her, her name, her family and all she
represented. The English and the Scots had long been enemies. This marriage
would have been difficult under any circumstances. Scottish highlanders did not
marry English ladies. Yet, deep in the bottom of her heart, she knew her father had
never been capable of deeds such as Hawke had described to her. Her father
would have discovered the facts in the case, and he would have never done
something so horrible as to put a man's head on pole where all could gawk.
If there had been any evidence to prove otherwise... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl chiara76.opx.pl
feathering a strange, simmering warmth within. "Welcome aboard. She is a
goddess. Beautiful. Alluring. She has cast a spell upon me. We will spend our
wedding night aboard her. The tunnel is guarded now by my men. No one will
disturb us."
Chapter Eight
"Where is she?" Huntington strode through The MacPherson castle. His fury sent
many of the servants scurrying out of his way. He slammed his fist against the
heavy oak table and whirled on Ian. "Where is she?" he roared the question once
more. "Hand her over, now!"
Nonchalantly, Ian leaned back in his chair and set his feet upon a table near the
fire. One of his hounds nosed his hand and Ian rubbed the dog's ears. The other
hound growled at Huntington.
"Lady MacPherson?" he queried softly. "Or do ye speak of some other lady?" Ian
sipped the ale that had been set before him. He rose suddenly, his hands braced
on the table, one eyebrow quirked upward. "Why, Lord Huntington, where are my
manners? Ye and your men must be hungry and nearly parched after the long
journey to the Highlands." He called out to one of the servants and waved a hand.
"See that Lord Huntington and his men are well fed and have plenty to drink. They
will need a place to stay, too. Make sure they are all comfortable."
Huntington sputtered, his eyes wild, his jaw clenched tight. "Lady MacPherson?
Surely ye jest? Callie would never marry ye, a MacPherson."
Ian stood, his own anger beginning to simmer and burn within. Yet he willed
himself to control the seething boil. "My brother is wed to her. Do not carry your
insults toward The MacPherson clan too far. Ye might come to regret your words
as well as your attitude."
Clearly taken by surprise, Huntington still tried to ignore the less than subtle threat
Ian hurled his way. "Who? Who in their right mind would wed a MacPherson to a
Whitcomb? There is no priest in the land who would do such a thing." Simon
strode the length of the hall, then back, his fists clenched at his sides, a nervous
tic at the base of his neck. "A fool, that is what he is. Show me this so-called
priest."
Father MacMurdo stepped forward, his shoulders squared, a grim determined look
on his features. "I married them. They are very much in love. Smitten, one might
say."
Huntington whirled, his temper now directed toward Father MacMurdo. "How dare
ye. I am her betrothed. She had no permission to wed anyone save me."
"Yet she did."
"Then undo it!" Huntington roared.
Paul shrugged. "I did not know. Lady Callie made no mention of a betrothed to me
and she said her vows quite enthusiastically. I'm deeply sorry, but this cannot be
undone, as ye so casually phrase the marriage."
"That is no excuse," Huntington railed once more. "I will have this undone. The
marriage will be annulled."
Paul stepped forward. Once again he spoke, "Ye cannot have this marriage
undone or annulled. The lady was willing, as was Colin. Once the vows are
consummated there is naught ye can do."
"I will stop this fiasco." Huntington turned and strode toward the stairs leading to
the rooms above. "Where are they?" He shouted to his men. "Find them!"
Lachlan and several other men stepped in front of Huntington, whose hand was
now on the hilt of his sword, his jaw clenched tight.
"Nay, ye cannae enter the upstairs without the laird's permission. I cannot allow
this," Lachlan said with authority, his eyes alight with a simmering fury and with the
promise of a good fight.
"I will go where I want." Huntington turned to his own men. Bertie moved quickly to
his side, his own hand settled and battle-ready on the hilt of his sword.
"Nay," Lachlan began once again.
"Let them," Ian said, his voice a low growl. Yet Ian knew this would not end here
tonight. And he knew Huntington's rage would be even hotter when he learned the
bride and groom were not above in the groom's solar.
"Go!" Huntington roared to his men as Lachlan stepped aside.
"We have nothing to hide." Ian forced a grin and leaned casually against the wall,
his arms crossed in front of him, staring at the men as they filed one by one
upstairs.
Huntington turned once more, sputtering. "This is a useless ploy. They are not
there, are they? Where are they? Ye do not want to bring Henry's wrath down
upon your heads. Tell me where they are!"
"Ye will not find them. They have left the castle to celebrate their wedding alone.
And Henry would never dare to interfere in affairs of the church unless it was to
change or annul a marriage of his own. Ye know that. Callie is wed. Forget about
her and find some other young heiress to bolster your wealth."
Huntington breathed in deeply then let the air out slowly, his face a livid, red color.
"Ye have not heard the last of this."
Father MacMurdo stepped forward, a holy smile upon his face. "Those God has
joined together in holy matrimony, let no man stand in the way."
Huntington whirled on one boot heel. "Where are my quarters?"
Ian nodded to one of his men. "Show them the way."
* * *
Flimsy wisps of clouds drifted across the moon and a slight breeze blew in from
the north. Stars twinkled in the midnight black sky. Callie wrapped her arms tightly
around herself, warding off the chill of the cold night air and fear of the new events
to come.
The small boat that carried them to Hawke's ship rocked with the soft lapping
waves that washed against the sides. Hawke rode in the bow of the boat, his long
legs stretched out in front of him, his hands resting on his thighs.
He watched her, his eyes penetrating, his expression grim and filled with some
tenuous feeling she didn't understand. The deep searing blue of his eyes seemed
to impale her. Tears stung her eyes. Oh, she knew he loathed her father and the
Whitcomb name, but she was never sure how he felt about her.
Marriage, though?
She froze. Her body stiffened. The thought sent more chills sweeping through her,
sending shivers within. He must truly despise her, her name, her family and all she
represented. The English and the Scots had long been enemies. This marriage
would have been difficult under any circumstances. Scottish highlanders did not
marry English ladies. Yet, deep in the bottom of her heart, she knew her father had
never been capable of deeds such as Hawke had described to her. Her father
would have discovered the facts in the case, and he would have never done
something so horrible as to put a man's head on pole where all could gawk.
If there had been any evidence to prove otherwise... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]