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Highlanders Collection. Ann LethbridgeЧитать онлайн книгу.

Highlanders Collection - Ann Lethbridge


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sensation of her husband’s breath sent a shiver through her skin. When he stepped back, she couldn’t suppress the feeling of disappointment.

      ‘Forgive Lady Grizel for what she said earlier,’ Lord Locharr said quietly. ‘She’s been through some difficult times and her grief has hardened her.’

      It was the man’s attempt to smooth over the uncomfortable atmosphere and Nairna managed a nod. ‘I hope it was all right that we came to pay a visit. The MacKinloch men are missing their wives and children and I came on their behalf.’

      Lord Locharr glanced to the women beside him, as if gauging their responses. Vanora stiffened, reaching out to take her daughter’s hand. She looked uncomfortable about the question, as though she were undecided on the matter.

      ‘Come inside,’ Lord Locharr offered, sending her a kindly smile. ‘You should stay the night with us and we’ll talk it over.’

      Though the invitation was not unexpected, Nairna saw the tension in Bram’s face. Her husband’s hands came to rest upon her shoulders, as if he wanted the Baron to know of his prior claim.

      Bram’s fingers pressed into her shoulders, his thumbs stroking the tension from her skin. The possessive motion took her unawares and the sensation was so soothing that she wanted to lean her head back, closing her eyes.

      ‘I’ll see to it that you have a chamber to yourselves,’ the Baron said. He nodded the request to Vanora, who disappeared with her daughter. ‘If you would both like to sit and enjoy a cup of mead or wine, we can talk while your chamber is readied.’

      The older man gestured for them to join him upon the dais at the long wooden table. Nairna did, out of politeness, but she didn’t miss Bram’s reluctance. ‘You have a lovely home,’ she began. ‘I’m certain the women and children are grateful for your hospitality.’

      Lord Locharr poured them each a cup of mead. ‘It was my pleasure. I enjoy having the little ones around.’ He filled his own cup and added, ‘But what you really want to know is when they’re returning.’

      Nairna nodded. ‘It’s not right for families to be split apart.’

      ‘And neither is it right for women and children to be attacked by the English every few weeks.’ His eyes turned to Bram. ‘They came to me for sanctuary, for an end to the violence. I was only too happy to grant it.’

      ‘How many were killed?’ Bram asked.

      ‘Not so many. The MacKinlochs were always good fighters,’ the Baron admitted, ‘but one of the younger girls was killed in the last incident. After they buried her, Lady Grizel gathered up everyone and brought them here.’

      Not the actions of an embittered old woman, Nairna realised, but one who wanted the safety of those who could not defend themselves. Were she in Grizel’s place, she might have done the same.

      ‘I would like to speak with her again,’ she told Lord Locharr. ‘Where might I find her?’

      ‘You’re wasting your breath,’ Bram responded. ‘Nothing you say will make any difference.’

      She supposed that could be true. ‘I still want to try. I’ve nothing to lose.’ From what she’d seen of Grizel, the woman appeared to have little sympathy or kindness in her. But she’d managed to bring half the clan to safety, keeping them protected from danger. Not an easy task at all.

      ‘I’ll wait for you in our chamber, then.’ Bram stood and nodded a cursory thanks to the Baron. ‘If you’re determined to speak with her again, I won’t stand in your way.’ Without another word, he returned outside. Nairna tried not to let her husband’s cynicism weaken her resolve.

      ‘Grizel isn’t an easy woman to speak to,’ the Baron admitted, when Bram was gone. ‘But there is more to her than most people realise.’

      Nairna believed so, too, but she wouldn’t know for certain until she spoke to Grizel alone. ‘Where can I find her?’

      ‘Why are you here?’ Lady Grizel knelt beside a wooden tub, her fingers covered in soap bubbles as she scrubbed the hair of a red-haired boy. Nairna guessed the child was two years of age and he sat within a large wooden bucket, whining as the matron rubbed his scalp.

      ‘I thought without Bram present, we could talk about what happened with the women and children.’

      She wanted to understand whether Grizel was truly filled with such hatred, or whether it was nothing but empty words.

      The older woman used her hands to scoop handfuls of water to rinse the boy’s head. When he started to cry, she sent the boy a grim look. ‘Quiet, now. You’re fine.’

      ‘I know that you left Glen Arrin after the last attack,’ Nairna ventured.

      Grizel lifted the boy out and wrapped him in a drying cloth. She hardly looked at the boy as she tended him. It was efficiency, nothing more. And it was starting to chafe at Nairna’s patience. Without asking permission, she reached out and took the child from Grizel. She sat down, pulling him onto her lap.

      After Nairna dressed him in a clean garment, the boy snuggled against her. At the feeling of his warm body nestled close, Nairna fought back the ache of longing.

      Grizel hardly appeared to care. ‘We were attacked nearly every sennight,’ she said, ‘because our men refused to pay bribes to the English.’

      Nairna rubbed the child’s back, shushing him as he fussed. She tucked his head beneath her chin, holding him close.

      ‘The men didn’t care what happened—all they wanted to do was fight.’ Grizel nodded towards the boy. ‘His parents were killed in the battle.’

      An uneasy sense of understanding crossed over Nairna as she pressed a kiss against the child’s hair.

      The lives of men are worth more than coins, her father had said. And now she was beginning to understand that.

      Nairna took a breath and rocked the boy in her arms, watching as his eyelids grew heavy in sleep. ‘And what if the fighting were to stop? Would you return, then?’

      ‘They won’t stop. They’re stubborn and hotheaded, every one of them.’

      ‘Not all of them,’ Nairna said, thinking of Bram. He kept to himself, isolated from his brothers. ‘Bram and Alex are doing everything they can to get Callum back.’

      A flash of pain slipped over Grizel’s face before she looked away. ‘Leave me now. I’ve no wish to speak of them again.’

      ‘And what about Dougal? He needs you, too.’

      Grizel let out a sigh. ‘Ever since he returned from fostering and found Tavin gone, he does nothing but fight all the time.’

      ‘You’re his mother,’ Nairna insisted. ‘And he’s not a grown man yet.’

      ‘Dougal hasn’t spoken to me in months.’ Angry hurt bloomed within Grizel’s voice as she wiped her hands upon her gown. ‘He doesn’t need me.’

      ‘So you’ll turn your back on your sons, after all they’ve suffered?’

      ‘Every time I see Bram’s face, I remember that Tavin died because of him.’ Grizel’s eyes grew wild, her temper spilling over. ‘Bram was foolish and believed he was strong enough to fight the English. Callum followed him when we tried to keep the boys away.’

      She rose to her feet. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to have your heart ripped away, losing your husband and two sons.’

      ‘I know what it’s like to lose a husband.’ The soul-wrenching grief had hurt so badly when she’d lost Bram, Nairna knew exactly how Grizel had felt. But a sixteen-year-old boy could not be blamed for it.

      ‘Bram suffered for seven years,’ Nairna continued. ‘He blames himself for the losses.’

      ‘And


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