Return of the Highlander Read Online Free Page B

words and actions appeared to be cordial, he struck Larena as dangerously unpredictable, a man whose mood could turn in an instant. She imagined him handing her a drink one second and breaking her thumb the next.
    Drawing in a deep breath to steady her nerves, she tossed back the rest of the whisky in a single gulp and grimaced in agony. “That’s strong,” she croaked.
    “Aye, it’s Moncrieffe Whisky, the very best the Highlands has to offer.”
    Still working to recuperate, she allowed Angus to take the empty glass from her trembling hand and lead her by the elbow to a chair.
    “Why don’t you sit down, lass?” he said. “You look a little pasty.”
    Aye . She certainly felt pasty. Not to mention dizzy from the bloodied lump on her head, the strong whisky, and fatigued and worried for her survival—as well as her father’s.
    Aware of Darach, following like a shadow beside her, she sat down on the wooden chair and watched Angus pull up a stool to sit down before her.
    “Better?” he asked.
    She nodded her head, but her heart still pounded heavily in her chest.
    “Now tell me everything,” Angus said in an encouraging tone that made her hope he might prove to be understanding.
    “It may surprise you to hear this,” she told him, “but I was not involved in the attack on the Redcoats. I don’t know who was responsible for that, for I was on the receiving end of it. You see…the British soldiers were acting as my escorts back to Leathan Castle.”
    “To deliver the King’s pardon that would save your father’s life?” Angus clarified.
    “Aye.”
    He studied her eyes intently. “Tell me more, Larena. How did this come to be?”
    She swallowed hard. “I had ridden all the way to Fort William to meet with His Majesty’s representative there…to plead for mercy on my father’s life. I was very fortunate that he awarded it to me, and for that reason I must leave here and return home as soon as possible.”
    “To save your father from the executioner,” Angus added.
    “That’s right.”
    “But why was your father sentenced to death?” he asked. “That is what I am most curious about, for I was under the impression that the Campbells of Leathan enjoyed kissing King George’s arse.”
    Perhaps another woman might have been shocked by the Lion’s coarse turn of phrase, but Larena had been raised with four older brothers who were crude in their youth. In fact, she was just as curious about—and confused by—her father’s motives when it came to his recent indiscretions.
    “It appears that my father did not entertain the same political views as our former chief.”
    She was keenly aware of Darach circling around to watch her more carefully. Her eyes lifted and she was immobilized by the intensity of his stare.
    “Are you referring to former Chief Ronald Campbell?” Angus asked. “He was a Hanoverian, from what I recall. Very loyal to King George.”
    “Aye,” she replied, “but as it turns out, after he died without any heirs, and my father took his place as chief, my father began a secret campaign to support the Jacobite cause and put the Stuart king back on the throne.” She lowered her gaze to her hands. “I believe he was taking steps to raise an army.”
    Both Angus and Darach frowned at her in bewilderment.
    Angus leaned forward. “You mean to tell me that your father, Fitzroy Campbell, is a Jacobite? Good Lord. Now I’ve heard everything.”
    Angus turned to look up at Darach who was standing beside him. “What do you make of that, Darach? Are you shocked?”
    “Aye,” he replied, gulping down a deep draft of his drink and wincing at the flavor. Or perhaps it was disgust at the information she’d just conveyed.
    Larena sighed heavily. “Believe me, I was as shocked as you are—even more so when the English soldiers broke down our gates to arrest my father. I swear I knew nothing of his plots against the King. That’s when I slipped out and rode to Fort William as fast as I