Amanda Scott Read Online Free

Pinkie, and no mere man could ever be that perfect.”
    “Don’t be absurd, Chuff. I haven’t fallen in love with a ghost, and he doesn’t ride a white horse. Come to think of it, though, he does own a magnificent deerhound that walks like a shadow at his side.”
    He looked at her in surprise. “A deerhound?”
    “Aye, and so my ghost, dear brother, is a Highlander, and at least an earl or the chief of his clan, because no one of lesser rank is allowed to own deerhounds.”
    Chuff’s eyes were twinkling again. “Just so you’re truly not in love with this paragon, lass.”
    “Well, I’m not,” she said firmly, “and I know that men are not perfect, sir. When I said he had all of the virtues I seek and none of the faults I detest, I meant only that and no more. I shall be able to overlook what faults he has if I love him. Just as I overlook yours,” she added sweetly.
    He chuckled. “We’d best be getting back now, lass. Himself and the men have reached the Dunraven dock, so he will be looking for me soon, and I see Mary and the bairns on the hillside, waving.” Chuff waved back.
    Pinkie waved, too. Her lovely holiday was over, but she enjoyed the children and looked forward to hearing about their day. They would be going to London, too, which was why Roddy stood there on the hillside, waving, with his mother and younger sisters, instead of being away at school.
    His father had said he was old enough, at ten, to go to Edinburgh, but Mary had said he would learn more by traveling to London than by pining away at school, wishing he were with them. Himself had not approved, but although no one else could change his mind once he’d made it up, Mary could, and so Roddy was going, and his father would hire a tutor when they got there. Pinkie thought Roddy was more excited about going than anyone else was. As for herself, she resolved to savor each day she had left in the Highlands, because if Chuff was right to worry, then London might prove to be even worse than she expected.

CHAPTER TWO
    Mingary Castle
    The West Highland Coast
    A Fortnight Later
    “E VEN WORSE THAN I thought,” the Earl of Kintyre muttered to himself as he stared glumly at the last page of the accounts his steward had set before him earlier that chilly spring afternoon.
    At the sound of his voice, the large dark gray dog that lay curled near the tall, paneled doors separating the bookroom from the great hall opened its liquid, dark brown eyes and lifted its furry head. Its warm, steady gaze looked sympathetic enough to draw a smile from its master.
    “Staring at these numbers doesn’t make them look any better, Cailean,” the earl said. “I had hoped we might buy sheep, even though introducing collies to your domain might strain your family’s dignity a wee bit. Unfortunately, I’d have to cut down the forests to accommodate the sheep’s grazing needs, and that would play right into Campbell’s hands. I cannot bring myself to do it. Not yet, at all events.”
    With a sigh, he picked up a letter near his hand on the desk. He had already read the thing twice since the runner had brought it. A third reading was not likely to alter the words or the arrogant scrawl in which they were written. Reading it was like probing a sore tooth. It hurt, but one kept doing it anyway.
    The moment he moved, the dog’s tail began thumping against the wood floor, and the earl allowed himself a moment to gaze in simple pleasure at the elegant creature. Then the tail fell silent, and Cailean’s ears lifted.
    Small for the dog’s great size, they sat high on its broad, flat, tapering skull. In repose, they folded back like a greyhound’s, but now they cocked forward alertly, their drooping tips silvery where light from a nearby window touched them. The main part of each ear was glossy black, darker than the rest of the dog—except for the tip of its nose—and felt as soft as a mouse’s coat when stroked.
    The earl thought at first that Cailean was