Highland Master - By Amanda Scott Page 0,7

on an island fortress some hundred yards from where the shore curved around the base of the steep hillside just below them. At the sight of that fortress, he felt a sense of unexpected disorientation and disbelief.

Maintaining an even tone of voice with effort, he said, “Is that not Castle Moigh, the very seat of the Mackintosh?”

“Nay,” she said. “That is Loch an Eilein and my father’s castle of Rothiemurchus. But you are not the first to mistake it for Moigh. See you, we Mackintoshes like islands. They provide more security than other sites do.”

“So you must be kin to the Mackintosh.”

“He is my grandfather,” she said proudly.

“Then you can tell me exactly how far Loch Moigh lies from here.”

“Aye, sure, but why do you want to know?”

“Sithee, I have come into Clan Chattan territory a-purpose to talk with the Mackintosh, to deliver a message to him.”

Her eyes twinkled again. “Have you, in troth?” When he nodded, she added, “Then it is good that you did come with me, sir, because at present the Mackintosh and my lady grandmother are staying with my mother and me at Rothiemurchus.”

“Our meeting today was fortunate then, was it not?”

“It was, aye,” she agreed, turning away. “We’ll go down now.”

He recalled then her belief that, in her father’s absence, her mother would welcome a “strong man” at Rothiemurchus.

“I trust that your grandfather is in good health and…” He hesitated, having seen enough of her to know that the words on his tongue might offend her.

She looked back, and he saw that the twinkle in her eyes had deepened. “If you were about to suggest that my grandfather is ill or has lost his wits—”

“I did not say that.”

“But you nearly did say it, or something like it. Do you deny that?”

“Nay, but I did hear that he was too elderly to wield a sword with his once-legendary skill. And since I have come to ask a boon of him and would not press him to do aught that he is too feeble to—”

“Feeble?” Her lips twitched in a near smile, and as she turned away, she said over her shoulder, “He came to us because, having learned of trouble stirring in our area, he wanted to look into its cause. However, my mother does hope that my father and brothers will return soon. See you, my grandfather trusts my father to deal with any problem we might face, because he is our Clan Chattan war leader.”

New tension gripped him. Quietly, he said, “Who is your father, lass?”

“Shaw Mackintosh, Laird of Rothiemurchus,” she said. “Before he married my mother and took the name Mackintosh, men knew him as Shaw MacGillivray.”

Stunned, Fin stopped in his tracks.

Shaw MacGillivray was the Clan Chattan war leader he had sworn to kill.

Chapter 2

Noting the sudden silence behind her, Catriona turned, saying, “What is it?”

“Nowt,” Fin of the Battles said—rather curtly, she thought.

She frowned. He seemed paler than before. “Are you dizzy again?” she asked.

Rosy color tinged his cheeks, telling her that he did not like the question. But she thought she detected relief in his expression when he said, “Aye, now and now.”

Clearly, like her brothers, the man hated admitting any weakness.

To prove that to herself, she said, “We’ll reach the boat soon. Crossing takes just a few minutes, and then I’ll take you inside where you can rest.”

Still watching him, she saw a flash of consternation rather than the annoyance she expected from a man reminded of his need to rest.

His gaze met hers. In the open, she saw that his light gray irises would have blended right into the whites were it not that they darkened slightly at the rims. The length and thickness of his lashes now seemed protective rather than just unfair.

Standing close to him as she was now, she realized that the top of her head barely reached his chin. And as she continued to meet his steady gaze, she felt a prickling in her skin that radiated warmly inward.

As she struggled to collect her wits, she sensed new hesitation in him, a stronger reluctance. She felt as if he might say that he had changed his mind and would go on without stopping at Rothiemurchus.

But then he said firmly, “Lead on, my lady. I am eager to speak with your grandfather if he will receive me.”

“He will,” she said as she gestured for Boreas to precede them.

Following the dog, she became more conscious than ever of the man behind her and tinglingly aware of

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