The Maclean Groom Read Online Free

straightened the silk cap perched on the back of her head, then coyly twined one wiry brown curl around her finger. “To openly defy the king’s orders would be treason,” she reminded her cousin.
    â€œThen I’ll have to do it secretly,” Joanna declared.
    â€œWhy not try hiding in the secret staircase?” Beatrix urged. “’Tis cleverly concealed.”
    The stairwell had been built by one of Joanna’s ancestors for reasons no one could now explain. Its entrance was a false back in a large service cupboard in the laundry room, and the stairs led to a movable wall of oak paneling in one of the private chambers on the third floor. Joanna and her cousins had played in the staircase as small children, but it’d been many years since anyone had used it.
    Joanna considered the idea for a moment, then shook her head. “’Tis possible The MacLean might discover it, and then I’d be trapped.” She stared down at the rug, pondering her limited choices. “But if he thinks I’ve already escaped to Mingarry,” she continued, half to herself, “he’d likely ride off after me on a fool’s errand.” She turned to Father Thomas and clasped his arm. “Ask everyone in the castle to gather in the great hall at once.”
    The priest frowned. “What are you thinking, my child?”
    â€œI have a plan, Father. But everyone in Kinlochleven, from the youngest bairn to the eldest grandfather, must help to carry it off. If but one soul betrays me, I’m lost. I’ll either be hanged as a traitor for disobeying the king, or I’ll be forced to marry The MacLean.”
    â€œI’d rather be hanged,” Idoine had offered cheerfully.
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    Bringing her thoughts back to the present, Joanna stared at the very personification of wickedness now standing inthe middle of her hall. The look of dismay on his face as he gazed at Idoine was enough to make a corpse snicker. MacLean clearly believed Joanna’s cousin was his promised bride. And from the grimace contorting his sharp features, the idea must taste like gall on that forked dragon’s tongue of his.
    â€œThis is the Lady Joanna,” Beatrix repeated, holding Idoine tight to keep her from bolting. “She is your affianced bride.”
    â€œâ€™Tisn’t true! ’Tisn’t true!” Idoine bawled, nearly hysterical at the thought of being forced to marry the ferocious man. “I’m not Joanna.” She tried to pull away, but her mother shoved her toward The MacLean.
    Sarah Colson, the bairn’s mama, took the opportunity offered by the commotion to disappear from the hall while MacLean’s eyes were fastened on the sobbing female in front of him.
    â€œBe still, you ungrateful wretch!” Beatrix snapped. “Would you have him murder the wee laddie, just to save yourself from an unwanted marriage?” She pinched Idoine’s earlobe, and the girl howled in pain and humiliation.
    Rubbing her injured ear, Idoine looked about the room as her eyes pooled with tears. “T-tell him,” she implored her clansmen. “T-tell him I’m n-not the heiress he seeks. Tell him I’m n-not the M-Maid of Glencoe.”
    No one moved.
    Not by a twitch of an eyelid did a single Macdonald give away the truth.
    But the look of desperation in her cousin’s eyes melted Joanna’s resolve the way The MacLean never could have—even if he tortured her on the rack or chained her in his dungeon with only moldy bread and brackish water to eat for the rest of her woesome days.
    Although Beatrix was willing to sacrifice her own daughter to save her niece for Andrew, Joanna couldn’t allow Idoine to suffer the hideous fate that had been meant for her, and her alone.
    Still, a shaft of pure terror struck Joanna’s chest at thethought of revealing her true identity. Like St. Agnes and St. Catrìona, she’d rather be a virgin martyr,