A Promise Given Read Online Free

mountains,
towering over his clansmen. Like his mother, he was sharp of wit and word, the
proud set of his shoulders disclosing the glory of his race.
    He sat upon his steed, keen gray eyes surveying the valley before him. It
was, all in all, a most glorious day. Neither wind nor rain nor fog swept across
the rolling hills that surrounded Dunlevy Keep. Ripe fields of gold stretched
off to the south and west. Just ahead, the forest was a wild tangle of dark
green.
    It was almost as if he'd never left… as if nothing had changed…
    Worn leather creaked as he shifted in his saddle. His cousin Alasdair had
ridden on ahead; no doubt he was already at the keep. Ian was anxious for the
journey to be at an end. A warm meal, a horn of ale, and a soft bed would do
much to ease the ache in his joints.
    In all truth, Ian could not say he was fond of Duncan Kincaid, for it was his
belief that Duncan was a man whose nature was not particularly warm nor wise nor
patient. Nor was he always fair or generous. But though the Kincaid was a man
ruled by his emotions, he was also a man with strongly held beliefs.
    His father David had known the Kincaid in his youth, for his father's mother
had kinsmen in the Lowlands—the acquaintance had been carried into adulthood.
Ian's father David held that it was important to have allies beyond one's own
clan; that was why he'd been sent to foster at Dunlevy as a youth.
    And why he and the Kincaid's daughter Margaret had been betrothed as
children.
    His own father—David—had been a man to command honor and respect. Though he
was fierce when challenged, he was neither brutal nor ruthless. Oh, he could
thunder and roar and fight like so many of his fellow Scots. Blame and envy were
not his way; nor would such be Ian’s s way. From him, Ian had learned to value
honor and pride and strength.
    Only once had his father bowed to weakness, to his own needs. Yet in the end,
it had cost him his happiness…
    And aye, his very life.
    God's bones, but it seemed a lifetime ago that he'd left this place! A weary
bleakness settled into his bones. Much had transpired since he'd left, much that
he'd never expected.
    He remembered that day well. He'd been anxious to return to the Highlands, to
boast and strut his newly acquired knightly skills as all young boys did upon
passing one of life's most memorable seasons—from boyhood to manhood.
    Instead he'd returned home to find his father remarried. Not that he'd
minded, for his mother was long since dead. He had adored his new stepmother,
for Fionna was young and gay and the loveliest woman he'd ever laid eyes
upon.
    Fionna. A faint bitterness crept through him. But now she was dead…
    And his father as well.
    Ian had loved his father dearly. And so it was that he would honor his
father's wishes, which was why he returned to Dunlevy. To marry Duncan's eldest
daughter Margaret.
    Odd, that he felt no kindling of excitement at the prospect of seeing his
bride-to-be again, beauteous though she was. In all honesty, he’d never harbored
any great affection for Margaret. Indeed, he was surprised that Duncan had not
demanded he and Margaret marry long ago. Nay, there had been no haste in
marrying, especially since Duncan had not pressed the issue. And so Ian had
curbed the restlessness in his soul—and aye, his manly appetite—but he knew that
the time had come to honor the agreement.
    The hardness of his mouth softened ever so slightly. In all the time he'd
been gone, he could not think of Dunlevy without remembering eyes as green as
the misty hills that surrounded this place.
    A faint smile etched one corner of his mouth. Lord, he almost hated to admit
it, but… he’d missed the bratling. He'd missed her…
    Sabrina.
    All at once he found himself beset with memories. He suspected Margaret had
altered very little, for he'd seen her but two summers past; no doubt she was as
comely as ever. But Sabrina…
    He'd often marveled that