When a Laird Takes a Lady: A Claimed by the Highlander Novel Read Online Free

blankets. Some color had returned to the older woman’s cheeks, but the tip ofher nose remained bone white. Isabail was familiar with basic healing remedies, such as willow bark tea for pain and mint for nausea, but her skills did not extend to treating severe cold. She had a sense she ought to do something more for her maid. But what? A sense of helplessness tugged at her shoulders. Not a common feeling for a woman who typically had three dozen gillies at her service.
    She was chewing her bottom lip, contemplating her very limited options, when the door to the bothy burst open. A very large, snow-covered figure stepped across the threshold, nearly filling the room with his broad shoulders. He shoved back his hood and stared silently at Isabail.
    She swallowed.
    Dear God. It was MacCurran. And judging by the dark glitter in his eyes, cold and hunger were the least of her problems.

Chapter 2
    A iden stared at Isabail Grant, torn between berating her and hugging her with joy. She was alive and seemingly in good health. But, damn it, the story could so easily have had a bitter ending. He glanced down at the maid. Frostbite had gripped the woman’s fingers and nose and likely her toes.
    They needed a fire.
    He crossed to the hearth, pulling several peat bricks from his pouch. Breaking one of the bricks into small pieces, he crouched to light them with his flint. “Remove her boots and any wet clothing.”
    When Isabail just stared at him, wide-eyed, he barked, “Now.”
    She scrambled to the other woman’s side.
    “Put your hands on any flesh that is white. Do not rub; just hold her.”
    The peat came to fiery life with gratifying ease, and he layered on more bricks, taking care not to smother the flames. Then he snatched the rabbitfurs from the pile atop the maid and shaped them into a thick pallet before the fire. When he was satisfied the bed would triumph over the cold of the dirt floor, he crossed the room to the unconscious woman.
    He scooped her up, blankets and all, and carried her to the fire. The color had returned to her nose, a good sign. When she was settled, he turned back to Isabail.
    “You next.”
    She blinked. “If you think I’m going to disrobe in front of you, you are—”
    He grabbed her and forced her onto a chair. “Boots first.”
    “My feet are fine.”
    The leather was soaked, which suggested her stockings were also wet. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He untied her boots and tugged them off. Her stockings quickly followed. The tops of her feet glowed a healthy pink, but the soles were a bloodless white. Unceremoniously, he opened the lacings on his lèine, took a foot in each hand, and planted her soles on his chest.
    Her cheeks flushed a furious shade of red, but she said nothing.
    He studied her face. A collection of delicate features, very feminine—except for her eyebrows, which were strong arcs above her smoky blue eyes. A contradiction not unlike the lady herself. Who would have guessed she’d make a bold bid for escape? With a rock, no less. “You’re a fool.”
    “Because I dared to escape?”
    “Because you very near killed your maid.”
    Her gaze dropped. “Were it not for the winter storm, we would have traveled much swifter. I cannot be blamed for the snow.”
    “Had you looked at the clouds, you’d have known.”
    Her eyes lifted. “You knew it would snow?”
    He said nothing, believing the answer obvious.
Why else would we have built the camp in such an open area?
He checked the soles of her feet. Still pale, but no longer colorless. “Warm your maid’s feet while I fetch some wood from the log pile.”
    “How do you know there’s wood? The food stores are empty.”
    “I’ve passed this bothy many a time in the summer.”
    She frowned. “If you knew it was here, why did you make camp in the hills?”
    He tossed her a cold, pointed stare. “I do not willingly take solace from my enemies.”
    Aiden yanked his brat over his head and braved the blizzard once