Highlander Medieval 06 - Her Highland Hero Read Online Free Page A

that sent these men to murder me.”
    Before he grew too weak to manage, Marcus climbed into his saddle and rode like the devil to the tavern. When he arrived, he fell from his horse to the ground in a bloodied heap, cursing at everything he could curse. With a willpower that overtook the pain carving a swath through his back, he managed to get to his feet and stumbled to the tavern, pushing the door open, and took two steps inside.
    Praying his cousins were here, his vision blurring and the peat smoke from the fire making the tavern even hazier, he couldn’t see them among the men seated at the half dozen tables scattered about. With as much strength as he could muster, he shouted, “Finbar! Rob!”
    The place was noisy and smelled of ale, but when he yelled, conversation ceased and all gazes swung to him.
    He thought he saw his cousins rushing to aid him, but he couldn’t be sure. He just hoped no one else meant to kill him as his sword fell from his weakened grasp and struck the floor right before he joined his weapon, smacking hard against the wooden planks, sending up a cloud of dust in his wake.

Chapter 3
    Isobel wondered why Lord Erickson had swept her toward the other side of the great hall, until she realized he was trying to keep her from seeing Marcus further. After her father would not grant her hand in marriage to Marcus, she intended to prove to the assembled lords and ladies that she had chosen the Highlander as her own. No one else need ask for her hand in marriage.
    She had seen the hostile looks directed at him, and some of those same men had cast the same kind of disparaging looks her way. Did they think she’d ever agree to marry any one of them? She knew her father could make that decision, if he so chose. But he’d always assured her and before that—her mother—that Isobel would have a choice.
    “Some wine, my lady?” Lord Erickson asked her.
    She shook her head and again looked for Marcus. Erickson had a quick temper that matched his fiery red hair. She could imagine having several redheaded bairns who each had tempers to match their father’s.
    Lords Fenton, Neville, and Hammersfield headed her way as if they believed it was now their turn to spend time with her. She wished to take a respite and drink some wine with Marcus. She had every intention of showing how much she loved the Highlander and no other man would have her affection.
    Glancing around the hall at the collected visitors, she realized her father was nowhere in sight, and she felt a chill race down her spine. He always stayed close at hand while she danced with the gentlemen. Was another suitor offering for her, and this time her father was considering any proposal just to ensure she did not wed the Highlander?
    “Lady Isobel, would you care to dance with—” Fenton didn’t finish speaking when Cantrell, one of her father’s servants, hurried into the great hall to talk to her father’s advisor on the other side of the room.
    Cantrell was a spry middle-aged man who oft ran errands for her when she needed something done—for a fee. Yet, he’d proved invaluable to her time and again. He was always crossing the border, knew everyone and one and all liked him, so he had been invaluable to her father as well since Cantrell always heard the news first about trouble brewing at the border and quickly apprised her father. She wondered if he charged her father for the information, or gave it freely.
    Lord Wynfield’s pudgy face reddened, his jaw dropping. Whatever the news, it was not good. He glanced around the great hall—looking for her father? Then spied her and he quickly spoke to Cantrell and headed out with Cantrell following behind.
    “Hope that it is not trouble at the border again,” Hammersfield said, crossing his arms. “Whoever has the pleasure of marrying Lady Isobel will have to deal with all of this on a regular basis, I daresay.”
    After her father was dead! Marrying her would not mean the lord would