To Love a Highlander Read Online Free Page A

him. He’d live for the day and he’d be ready when it came.
    Nothing would stop him.
    It was more than a matter of reckoning.
    It was a point of pride.

Chapter One

    Stirling Castle
    Summer 1399
    S orley the Hawk slept naked.
    His bare-bottomed state was glaringly apparent, even to Lady Mirabelle MacLaren’s innocent eyes. She should have known that a man with such an inordinate fondness for pleasures of the flesh would take to his bed unclothed. Still, it was a possibility she should’ve considered before sneaking into his privy quarters. She hadn’t expected him to be in his room so early of an e’en. She’d hoped to catch him unawares, surprising him when he strode inside.
    Now she was trapped.
    She stood frozen, her heart racing as she glanced around his bedchamber. Even in the dimness, she could tell his quarters were boldly masculine and entirely too sumptuous for an ordinary court bastard. Exquisitely embroidered and richly colored tapestries hung from the walls and the floor was immaculate, the rushes fresh and scented with aromatic herbs. A heavily carved and polished trestle table held the remains of what had surely been a superb repast. Several iron-banded coffers drew her curiosity, making her wonderwhat treasures they contained. Above all, her eye was drawn to the large curtained bed at the far end of the room.
    There, atop the massive four-poster, Sorley was stretched out on his back, one arm folded behind his head.
    That he was nude stood without question.
    What astonished her was her reaction to seeing him in such an intimate state.
    Her mouth had gone dry and her heart beat too rapidly for comfort. She couldn’t deny that she found herself strongly attracted to him. Yet to accomplish what she must, she required her wits.
    Unfortunately, she also needed Sorley.
    Sir John Sinclair, an oily-mannered noble she couldn’t abide, was showing interest in her. Worse, he was wooing her father, a man who believed the best in others and didn’t always catch the nuances that revealed their true nature. Castle tongue-waggers whispered that Sinclair desired a chaste bride, requiring a suitable wife to appease the King’s wish that he live more quietly than was his wont. Mirabelle suspected he’d chosen her as his future consort.
    She knew Sorley loathed Sinclair.
    And that the bad blood was mutual.
    No one was better suited to help her repel Sinclair’s advances than Sorley the Hawk.
    Time was also of the essence. Mirabelle’s father’s work at court wouldn’t take much longer. As a scholar and herbalist, he’d tirelessly seen to his duties, assisting the royal scribes in deciphering Gaelic texts on healing. Soon, the MacLaren party would return home to the Highlands.
    Mirabelle didn’t want to remain behind as Sir John’s betrothed. For that reason, she summoned all the strength she possessed to remain where she stood. It cost her great effort not to back from the room, disappearing whence she’d come. Harder still was not edging closer to the bed, then angling her head to better see Sorley.
    He was magnificent.
    Blessedly, the sheet reached to his waist, hiding a certain part of him. The rest of his big, strapping body was shockingly uncovered. Mirabelle’s face heated to see the dusting of dark hair on his hard-muscled chest. She felt an irresistible urge to touch him. Well aware that she daren’t, she did let her gaze drift over him. Light from an almost-guttered night candle flickered across his skin, revealing a few scars. His thick, shoulder-length hair was as inky-black as she remembered, the glossy strands gleaming in the dimness. Even asleep, he possessed a bold arrogance. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the shadows, she could see from the bulge outlined beneath the bedcovers that his masculinity was equally proud.
    The observation made her belly flutter.
    Unable to help herself, she let her gaze linger on his slumbering perfection. His darkly handsome face and oh-so-sensual mouth that, if