Highlanders. Michelle WillinghamЧитать онлайн книгу.
did he say? Or should I even ask?”
“He said you and the boys will be freed when your ransom is paid,” Juliana said quickly.
“But what about you?”
Juliana started, recalling his exact words—he had not mentioned her ransom or her release. “Of course he will free me, too,” she said slowly. But as she spoke, she thought about the wild and shocking passion they had just shared—and suddenly, she was uncertain. Hadn’t she sensed that he had returned to attack Coeffin Castle because of her?
“What is wrong?”
She quickly smiled. “Nothing. I am simply...distraught...and I am tired, too.” She decided she was jumping to conclusions. He had not attacked Coeffin Castle in order to capture her. He had done so as an act of revenge against her brother.
“Maybe you should rest.”
“I intend to. Would you be disappointed with me if I went down to the hall to eat?”
“No.” For one moment, the sisters stared at one another. Mary added, “Be careful, Juliana.”
Juliana smiled and turned away. Her smile vanished as she went down the hallway. Her sister knew what she had done—she was certain.
* * *
JULIANA DID NOT go into the great room. She paused just beyond it, staring inside, instead.
Alasdair was seated beside his father, and as she looked at him, her heart thundered. No wonder she had leapt into his bed—he was a powerful and attractive man. She could not deny it now.
He was eating with a ravenous appetite while his father spoke to him. Angus Mor looked like an older version of his son, a big, muscular man, his cheekbones high and hard, although his long hair was mostly gray. He wore the same blue-and-red plaid about his shoulders, pinned there with a gold brooch. Lady MacDonald was also at the table, as were several Highlanders, all of whom she now recognized.
Angus Mor was speaking, but then he saw her and became quiet. All conversation stopped instantly, every pair of eyes turning upon her.
Alasdair leapt up, so quickly, it was almost comical. “Lady Juliana.”
She knew she blushed, and heatedly; worse, his gaze was very warm upon hers. “I am interrupting,” she said.
“Nonsense.” Lady MacDonald stood and came around the table, walking over to her. Alasdair remained standing—staring. She took her arm, guiding her back to the table. “I brought Lady Comyn and her boys their supper. I wasn’t certain if you would stay with them or join us.” She smiled.
Was she also wondering where Juliana had been during the past hour? Juliana now avoided looking in Alasdair’s direction, aware of him sitting back down. But unfortunately, she kept thinking about the passion they had just shared.
“You have not met my husband,” Lady MacDonald continued.
Angus Mor did not stand up, but he smiled at her. “Welcome to Dunyveg, Lady Juliana.”
Juliana met his blue eyes, which were cool and assessing. This man was the Lord of the Isles and her brother’s worst enemy. Unlike his son, he felt no admiration or affection for her. She knew from the course of her lifetime how dangerous he was. He and her brother had been at war almost incessantly since she was born, although she did recall a brief truce a few years ago, in which they had rebelled together against King Alexander, over some grievance they had briefly shared. “My lord,” she said uneasily. Suddenly she wished she had remained upstairs.
“Alasdair tells me ye are fearless,” he said.
“To the contrary, I am very frightened.”
Her comment did not appear to affect him. “Do sit, Lady Juliana.”
Juliana sat down at the table, Lady MacDonald between her and Angus Mor. She faced Alasdair, and she stole a quick glance at him. He was staring and not bothering to hide his interest.
“How is the Lord of Lorn, Lady Juliana?” Angus Mor asked.
She tensed. “I would not know, I have not seen him in a week.”
“Of course not. He planned his attack on my son from Dunstaffnage, and now, he is on his way to Lochaber.”
She flinched. How did Angus Mor know that? “Do you have spies amongst us?”
“Did ye not have spies amongst us?” Angus Mor returned.
She trembled, for Angus Mor was frightening, in a different way than his son.
“Juliana would not ken if her brother has spies amongst us,” Alasdair said.
She jerked at Alasdair’s hard tone, and her gaze flew to his. He would defend her to his father?
“It canna hurt to ask. Ye should demand their names as part of the ransom,” Angus Mor said flatly.
“I’ll think on it,” Alasdair returned.
Juliana looked at him and then at his father. She hadn’t realized that Alasdair managed his affairs independently from his father. And there was some tension between them, some rivalry. But his father was an old man—he had to be well over fifty—and Alasdair was in his late twenties, or so she assumed. He was mature enough to lead Clan Donald now. He probably wished to do so.
“Why dinna ye eat?” Alasdair said, surprising her.
A trencher had been placed in front of her, but now she had no appetite.
Alasdair valued her as a hostage and he admired her as a woman. And they were lovers. She might be his captive, but he would not truly hurt her. She had no such confidence in regards to his father.
Realizing Angus Mor was staring at her, Juliana ate.
* * *
DONALD AND ROGER were running up and down the corridor, chasing one another back and forth with loud shrieks. It was midday, and the boys had been cooped up in the chamber since they had awoken. But Juliana and Mary rushed in an attempt to quiet the boys before the entire castle complained.
“Roger! Donald! You cannot behave as barbarians!” Mary cried, running after Roger.
Juliana chased Donald down the corridor. “We are guests,” she cried, finally seizing him by the back of his leine. As they halted, they came face to face with a boy of seven or eight years old.
He must have just come up the stairs, and he was staring coolly at them. “Yer not guests. Yer hostages. Alasdair said so.”
Juliana was incredulous. She knew he was related to Alasdair instantly, and not just because of his demeanor. He looked like a childish version of him, with the same dark hair and blue eyes. “And whom might you be? I am Lady Juliana MacDougall,” she said, her tone deliberately imperious.
“I am Alexander—the second Alexander.” As he spoke, she heard footsteps behind him.
Alasdair appeared on the landing. “I see you have met my little brother, Alexander—we call him the little wolf.” He smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Even ye must be kind to a captive—she is a lady.”
The boy shrugged and slipped away, hurrying back down the stairs.
And suddenly they were very much alone, and she was acutely aware of it, as she felt her heart racing.
He said softly, “Ye vanished so quickly last night.”
She had fled supper, with the intention of making certain she got safely to her own bed.
“Did my father frighten ye?”
She said carefully, “Yes, he did.”
Their gazes were locked when suddenly Mary appeared with Roger and Donald in hand.
She looked back and forth between them. “Good morning,” she said to Alasdair.
He