The Fraser Bride Read Online Free Page A

jerked her gaze to the right at the sound of Lachlan’s voice. “Touch me, either one of you, and I swear by the living God I’ll see you cut and quartered before the dawn.”

Chapter Three
    Anora remained very still. Where was she? Had the Munro caught her? Or—
    The warrior! He had chased her and she’d run. Panicked. She knew better than that, better than to show fear.
    “They
are
blue.”
    She snapped her gaze to the man at her right. He was dark, broad, powerful. She’d learned long ago never to trust a powerful man.
    “What?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
    “Your eyes,” he said. “They are blue.”
    “Mary?”
    She swept her attention to her left. The man there was fair haired, winsome, ungodly handsome. She’d learned long ago never to trust a handsome man.
    “What did you call me?” she asked.
    “Mary. ‘Tis the name I gave you whilst you slept, for I imagine you look like the sainted mother of Christ.”
    Flattery. She let herself relax a smidgen, but she couldn’t be careless, for oft those who spoke of saints were the antithesis of holiness themselves.
    “You needn’t worry,” said the fair haired man, “for we will not harm you.”
    “Nay,” agreed the other, his voice deep and earnest. “Indeed I will guard you with me very life.”
    She carefully soothed her voice to one of schooled refinement. “Where am I? Who are you?”
    “You have come to Dun Ard, the high fortress.” The fair haired man smiled easily. “We be the brothers MacGowan. I am called Gilmour, and yonder broad pillar is Lachlan.”
    The MacGowans! Even in her home in the far north, she had heard of them.
    “Lass?”
    “Aye?” She stilled the rapid beat of her heart and raised her chin a notch.
    “Your name … ‘tis not Mary by any wee chance, is it?”
    Perhaps there was new hope here, for they were strong men with a powerful clan behind them. But her uncle had seemed a likely protector too, until he had heard her troubles. Then his charity had withered like a winter pear and his true nature showed through. She would not so easily share her troubles again. She would learn what these men could do for her and act accordingly. In this world of shadows and travails, the truth was highly overvalued, while a lie, often—
    “Lass—”
    “My apologies,” she murmured, knowing she had waited too long to answer and now had no more time to consider the matter. “Aye. I am Mary.”
    “Nay.” ‘Twas the broader of the two who spoke. “It cannot be.”
    “Indeed it is,” she said and tried a tremulous smile in the direction of the one called Gilmour. The effort made her head throb, but her course was set. “Tell me, my laird, how did you know? Could it be that you are not only bonny, but gifted also?”
    “Gifted?” he asked, and leaning forward, reached for her hand.
    Her stomach pitched, and she was tempted almost beyond control to pull out of his reach, but she forced herself to allow his touch.
    He took her fingers gently in his hand and raised them to his lips.
    “Nay, lass, I had no gift, not until you appeared like an angel—”
    “Mary.”
    The word came from the far end of the room. Anora lifted her gaze, realizing in that instant that she had been careless. Too careless. ‘Twas not just the two brothers who shared this space with her. There was another man, a dark haired fellow with deep set eyes and a solemn expression. Two small braids were pulled back from his well sculpted face, and his mouth, though generous, was set in a hard line.
    She watched him approach her bed. He was neither as tall as the one brother nor as broad as the other, and yet he seemed bigger than both somehow, making them appear harmless by comparison.
    “Your name is Mary?” he asked.
    “Aye.” She held her breath. It was a foolish act. He was only a man, after all, but her hand was shaking in Gilmour’s palm so she pulled it swiftly to her side. ” Tis. And thine?”
    “What an amazing coincidence,” he said.