The MacNaughton Bride Read Online Free Page A

when he’d executed that courtly bow before
her when they’d first met – was probably less than thirty and hadn’t a
gray hair anywhere near him . . . and she’d seen more of him than she’d seen of
any man in her life.   Even his
chest hair was coal black, although distinctly thinner than the thatch on his
head.   She didn’t relay these
disturbing facts to her sister, choosing instead to gloss over her description
of the MacNaughton himself.  
    Aislinn didn’t spend too long with Adelle – she did
need to get back and finish getting dressed.   Adelle hugged her sister when she
rose to leave, then stopped her as she stepped towards the door, tugging on her
arm then turning to grab something from under the blankets.   It was a set of pillowcases,
meticulously embroidered with the MacNaughton crest.
    Of the two, Adelle was much more adept with a needle than Aislinn , who was truly hopeless, but she knew how many hours
of work this represented on Adelle’s part.   Aislinn hugged her sister to her as tightly as she could, feeling the tears she’d been
trying to ignore since her father’s death seeping into her eyes behind her
lids.   If she didn’t stop, her eyes
would be swollen and puffy during the ceremony, and that wouldn’t look good.
    Although it tore at her
heart for some reason she didn’t understand, Aislinn put Adelle from her gently, looking into those eyes
so like hers.   Silent as always, Adelle had a small smile on her face as she nodded and
gripped her sister’s arms tightly, rhythmically.   It was as if she was trying to support her sister in her
time of need - trying to convey that everything would be all right - which was
a complete reversal of their usual roles.
    Aislinn sniffed a little and turned away, slipping back into the house and up to her
room without incident.
     
     
    Meanwhile, Kell was trying to deal with the exuberant spirits of his
brothers.   He was the eldest of the MacNaughton boys at nearly thirty one.   Burke was next in line and the one most
likely to give himself to the Church . . . if he could ever settle down long
enough.   Of the three of them, he
was the most scholarly, although that was somewhat a case of damning with faint
praise.   But he had already
confided to Kell that he felt that might be his
calling, and with Kell marrying and presumably
producing heirs, it was highly unlikely that the title would pass to him.   Kell was the
quietest – such as he was, the one least likely to start a feud or punch
someone out in a public house or be caught with a whore.   But if he decided you needed punching,
then the job was done more thoroughly than by him alone than by the two of his
younger brothers put together.   All
of his punches were knockout punches.   Few men dared to challenge him a second time.
    Together, the brothers were
a legend around the small town of Kilarnan , and well
beyond the lands they owned.   When
they were younger, they drank, whored, and generally caroused together in
Scotland and beyond, and the stories of their exploits had already taken on
legendary proportions.   Kell , in particular, did nothing to stop any of the rumors,
especially those of their prowess in bed sport, which he found to be the most
boastful and the most truthful at the same time.
    The baby of the family
– all six foot three and nearly eleven stone of him – was Grant Chevres MacNaughton , mercilessly
teased and still fondly referred to as Cheesy.   Their mother had had an unfortunate fondness for goats’ milk
cheese during her pregnancy, and their father had been so enamored of her
– and over the moon about the successful birth of his third son –
that he had indulged her and let her name the infant.
    He had been the first to
nickname him Cheesy, much to their mother’s distress.
    Despite the hindrance of
his middle name, and two older brothers who enjoyed perfecting their punching
skills while holding him down, Grant prospered, as did the entire