Ian's Rose: Book One of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Read Online Free Page A

Frederick was reading Andoreen McLaren’s letters aloud to his wife. They were filled with nothing but kind words for Mermadak. She bespoke often of how well Aggie was growing, how much she adored Mermadak, and what a fine woman she would grow into.
    By the fourth letter, Aggie declared she had heard enough. She sat in stunned silence for a long while, playing over and over in her mind the words of her long dead grandminny.
    “Mermadak was never very fond of me,” she said in a low, breathless tone. “I do no’ remember me grandminny very well, she died when I was nine. I do no’ ken why she would lie to ye, why she would say things that were so far from the truth as to be insane.”
    ’Twas Frederick who answered her question. “To protect the two of ye.”
    Aggie looked up at him with the most befuddled expression. “Protect us?” She gave a shake of her head as if she had not heard him correctly.
    “Yer mother loved Douglas verra much, Aggie. I believe she sensed that if he knew the truth, knew how things really were fer ye, he would have stopped at nothing to take ye away.”
    Douglas nodded in agreement. “’Tis the truth. I would have. Had I known, I would have killed the man with me bare hands, Aggie. But I did no’ know. By the time Andoreen died, I had moved on. I had married Eleanor, was building a life with her. But never were ye far from me thoughts or me heart. And had I known, I would have come fer ye long ago, I swear it.”
    Aggie studied him closely for a long while. She could detect no deception, no dishonesty. Only sincere regret and shame. She took in a deep, cleansing breath, wiped away her tears and returned to her chair.
    Lies. Nothing but lies for all these many years. In her heart, she had to believe her mother did what she thought was the right thing. She could not for a moment believe that anything her mother had done had been done out of spite or malice. Desperation perhaps, but not malice.
    For a moment she wondered what her life would have been like had she known the truth. Had she the opportunity, she would have run away to Douglas long ago. But then, she would not have had Ailrig — even if he were conceived by rape. She loved her son regardless of how he was conceived. Mayhap it was time to tell her sweet boy the truth. If she waited, he might feel just as betrayed as she did now.
    And had she run away successfully to live with Douglas Carruthers, she would never have met Frederick nor had Ada. God had put her on this path for a reason, even if she didn’t quite understand why.
    “I can no longer blame ye, Douglas. Each of us were lied to, even if those lies were made with good intentions.” She took another deep breath. “I do no’ wish to carry these feelin’s of shame or betrayal with me any more.”

3
    M ore than a year ago Frederick Mackintosh had made a promise to Rose McLaren. “If me brother ever hurts ye or plays ye false, I’ll kill him with me bare hands.” Hence, an easy solution to mend Rose’s heart was at hand.
    ’Twas unfortunate that his daft and addlepated brother Ian was forcing him to keep that promise. He had reached the ends of his patience in the matter. The way his brother had treated the sweet young woman since their return to Mackintosh lands was nothing less than an abomination. ’Twas beyond time someone took the matter into hand.
    The hour was quite late, long past the evening meal. Most were back in their rooms or cottages, and only a few remained in the gathering room. He soon found the object of his consternation. There, sitting alone in a dark corner, sat Ian Mackintosh. From the number of empty cups — as well as the way the fool swayed as he sat — Frederick quickly surmised his brother was so into his cups he couldn’t find his arse with both hands.
    Ian Mackintosh.
    Known throughout the land by women as a man as beautiful as he was a consummate lover. He’d left a trail of broken hearts across Scotland, England, France, and