To Conquer a Scot - Tamara Gill Page 0,4

a knife in her heart, putting her out of her misery.

Chapter 3

Aedan MacLeod looked down at the lass asleep in one of the guest chamber beds and cursed. “What the hell do ye think you’re doing, Gwen? You’ve used magic to bring her here? Are ye daft, lass?”

His survival instinct roared to be rid of her and the magic that surrounded her, a beacon for anyone who suspected them of such. The gifts of the MacLeod clan were a blessing and a curse. Should anyone discover their powers, all would be lost, including his head. And he was rather fond of his head exactly where it was. The lass needed to go home, and soon.

“It’ll be fine, Aedan. Ye worry too much. No one will ever find out about her. As soon as she wakes, I’ll explain to her why she’s here, and she’ll understand. I promise she’ll not cause ye any trouble.”

“And what is it that you’ve brought her here for? I’m interested to know myself.” His sister’s inability to meet his gaze made his stomach churn. “Gwendolyn, what has your scheming mind been thinking up?”

She sighed. “She’s perfect for ye. Strong-willed, independent, and alluring.” His sister gestured at the woman. “I thought if you got to know her a little you might form an attachment and have a handfasting ceremony.”

“That’s no reason to risk our lives. I want the truth. Why her, and not a lass from our time?”

Gwen sighed and slumped in a chair. “I know you’ve been showing interest in Aline Grant, and I’ll not have it. Surely, you know of the rumors that follow the lass. That she’s slept with half of Scotland and no doubt, half of England, as well.”

Aedan had heard the rumors. Though with a brother like Evan Grant, a hawk hovering over Aline’s every move, he’d not believed them. But his sister’s dislike of the girl, a disappointment, to be sure, wouldn’t stop him from marrying who he needed to. “She’s chaste. I’m certain of it, or I wouldn’t be considering her.”

His sister met his eyes and compassion flickered in their depths. He grit his teeth, not at all liking when his sister looked at him like that. “Do you not see that this Abigail lass resembles Gail? It’s almost as if she’s been re-born hundreds of years from now.”

He held up his hand, having heard enough. There was no bringing back the woman he’d loved as a lad. A girl who’d grown into a woman who matched him in every way, until a fever in her sixteenth year had taken her life.

Looking down on the lass once more, he studied her. Aye, she was similar, in coloring and looks to Gail, but she wasn’t what his clan needed. “Whoever I choose, sister, whether it is Aline Grant or a lass from an allied clan, she’ll bring our family coin, a good name, and valuable men for our forthcoming battle with Clan O’Cain.”

“Forget the O’Cains. What’s done is done, and you’re no use to any of us dead. And we’re not in need of coin or what Aline could bring to our home. You are not always correct in your path through life, brother. You do not have to sacrifice your future happiness for the safety of your people.”

Aedan rounded on his sister and only just remembered he wasn’t allowed to kill the girl. Of all the idiotic foolery she was talking. “I’ll hear no more of it. My decision is made. And if it hasn’t escaped your notice, dear little sister, we have half of the Highland families bearing down on us right at this moment, for the Highland Games. They’ll be bringing their daughters for me to choose from. This woman could tell everyone of our acquaintance what we’re capable of. What if she wants to go home to her time? What year, pray, is she from?”

“She’s from the twenty-first century. Twenty seventeen, to be precise.”

“Och, you’re mad, lass, and we’re doomed. When she wakes up, you need to send her back immediately.” Aedan ran a hand through his hair and started to pace. “We can’t have her running around the castle grounds screaming about what you’ve done. If the clans hear of this magic, even I cannot save you, or myself, from certain death. You’ll be labeled a witch, and rightfully so.”

Gwen came to stand beside the bed. The woman hadn’t woken. She was as still as death, the only sign she was alive was the small rise

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