Redeemed (Heroes of the Highlands) (The MacKays #2) Read Online Free Page A

he elected to avoid them.
    Ignoring alarming, unnecessary physical responses, Daroch carefully inspected the bowl of fine black powder upon which she’d demonstrated her ethereal lack of material mass. It consisted of the combustible mixture of sulfur, charcoal, and a purified solution boiled from ashes of wood. If he dropped the bowl, Cape Wrath would be leveled in the explosion. From what he could tell, the interaction with her miasma had no significant impact on either force.
    Interesting. Unsurprising, but interesting.
    “What are you cooking over there?” Her voice reached through his robes and touched his spine with an unwanted thrill.
    He sighed. On second thought, he should just drop the bowl and be done with it. An inexplicable tremor in his hand caused Daroch to set the powder down.
    “Oh I see! You’re melting copper and tin to make bronze. What are you going to use it for?”
    It took Daroch several moments to process her question. Who ever heard of a Banshee with a melodic voice? Also, how was it one woman could be gifted with such— symmetrical features—and also a… dammit he would not use the word ‘beautiful’ to describe anything about her. Least of all her voice. Pleasing? Lyrical?
    Sensuous.
    He bit his lip. Hard.
    “I’m fashioning a… conducting an experiment.” Gods be damned, in trying to distract himself, he’d nearly given her the honest answer, which could have meant the end of everything he worked for. A woman with a little knowledge was more dangerous than a horde of Berserker warriors. They would be the sword, the death bringers. But she, she would be the blood, the inciting incident. He had to get her out of here before she ruined everything.
    “Would that experiment have anything to do with the raw iron on this table? Or the gold and silver? Or all these powders and tools and—”
    “Nay,” he lied. It had everything to do with all of it. It was his life’s work. His reason for existence. And the greatest kept secret in the Highlands.
    Until now.
    “Good, because you overworked this other iron here, though it’s still too crude. It looks like the blast temperatures were too low but you still got enough oxygen in the metal to—”
    “What are ye, a secret alchemist?” he clipped and turned around, forgetting in his exasperation that he’d planned on not looking at her.
    “Nay.” Her glow caused metal beside her to glisten and Daroch focused his eyes on that, rather than her lithe form barely concealed in ghostly, transpicuous robes. “I’m the daughter of Diarmudh MacKay, the best blacksmith in the Highlands.”
    Surprisingly, Daroch had heard of the man. “Didna he die some fifteen years hence?”
    “Eighteen.” The Banshee turned from where she inspected the metal and caught his gaze with a sad smile. Damn it all, he wasn’t supposed to be looking. “But I was his favorite, and spent many hours in the smithy with him, black as a Demon, singing songs not fit for a wee girl while he worked all sorts of metals.”
    “Demons aren’t black.” Daroch corrected while he studied her. “Ye’re not old enough for that.”
    “I was four when he was kicked in the head by an unruly horse.” Grief shadowed her delicate features and Daroch had to clench his jaw and consider numerical figures to distract himself from a dangerous softening somewhere in the region of his lungs.
    “Anyway, I remember everything he taught me. Especially about alloys.” She was coming closer, and Daroch found that he wanted to retreat from her. “You know, we turned it into a washhouse after his death, my mother and sisters. It was… burned.” This time, it was she who averted her eyes. “But the forge remains, though the bellows would need repairing. I’m certain you could use it.”
    Daroch gaped at her. “Why?” The irony of his asking her the question wasn’t lost on him.
    “Why what?”
    “Why would ye offer me the use of yer beloved father’s smithy when I’ve