Sound of the Heart Read Online Free Page A

were drawn to him like bears to honey. He knew he was handsome in their eyes. He was tall and strong, with midnight hair and a dusky complexion. His bright blue eyes twinkled with mischief, and the creases at their corners were testament to how he loved to laugh. The hill at the Gathering had been dotted with hundreds of tents and families, lit by campfires and whisky. And the lassies popped out of those tents, flirting with Dougal and Andrew, succumbing to their masculine charms with giggles and kisses.
    Dougal rarely said no to an interested girl, but he’d never found one who could hold his attention for more than an hour or two. He wasn’t sure what he was seeking, but he didn’t consider it important to get married until he found that one. He had seen love in his parents’ eyes when they looked at each other. He had also seen folks whose marriage consisted of passing each other in the doorway with barely a word, meeting up once in a while to breed. Dougal knew which he wanted and was in no rush.
    When they had headed to battle almost a year past, there had been no one special in his life. Ciaran had a bonny wee thing at home, but then again, he was only sixteen. He was at the age when he thought he was in love as long as a girl fluttered her lashes at him. Dougal, being twenty, was of the opinion that a man was happiest without tethers. A brief dabble in the more enjoyable aspects of socialising, but nothing permanent. So he’d left no one behind.
    He and John Wallace fell into step together, both of them tall with long strides.
    “From where do ye come?” Dougal asked.
    “By Urquhart, in Glenmoriston. My family has a wee cottage there.”
    “Well then,” Dougal said. “We’re practically neighbours. ’Tis a shame we’ve no’ met afore this. I’m from Invergarry. My uncle is the MacDonnell. Iain MacDonnell.”
    “Is that so? I’m wi’ the nephew o’ the great MacDonnell, am I? Well. ’Tis an honour, sir. An’ how did he fare today?”
    Dougal exhaled loudly. “I reckon he fared as well as most o’ the others. Though come to it, I’d say if I were a chief, I’d hope to die on the battlefield. I’d no’ want to think what the
sassenachs
will do to a chief in their custody.”
    John said nothing, but wrinkled his nose and shook his head.
    “Had ye family here today?” Dougal asked.
    “Aye, I did.” For a moment John’s eyes lost their natural shine. He dropped his chin and watched the ground beneath his feet for four or five paces. “But I already lost two brothers at Prestonpans, so today ’twas only my da an’ myself. An’ he . . . well, suffice to say, he’s no’ with us on this fine day’s walk.”
    They walked for a while in silence. Then Dougal said, “My da as well. I stood beside him as he fell. My brothers, well, I’ve no idea. But they’re no’ here.”
    John glanced over his shoulder. “Ye’re sure, are ye? There’s an awful lot of us here.”
    “I’m fair sure. They’d find me, or I them.” He didn’t bother mentioning that if Andrew had been among the prisoners, the brothers’ minds would already have found each other.
    They stopped after about an hour, shivering at the side of the road while their English captors sipped beer and ate bread and cheese. Dougal looked away. He wondered if they would feed them wherever they were going. He’d give just about anything for a crust of bread.
    Someone else seemed to have the same urge, because at that moment a chorus of shouts broke out a few feet behind them. Dougal and John turned toward the sound and watched two soldiers drag one of the Highlanders into the middle of the road. The man was curled into a stubborn ball, hands at his mouth, chewing furiously.
    “’e stole my bread!” one soldier said belligerently, jabbing his finger into the Scot’s chest.
    The accused kept chewing, then finally swallowed. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to. His sunken eyes wavered in the general direction of the soldier,