A Highlander’s Hope (MACKENDIMEN CLAN #4) by Terri Brisbin EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Terri Brisbin
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3.2 MB
- Price: Free
Dunbarton Keep, Scotland
Late November, in the Year of Our Lord 1357
Iain MacKillop stared across the hall and watched as his nieces and
nephews, brothers, and other kith and kin went about their usual tasks and
routines. And with every passing second, he knew he was not needed.
The MacKillops had been at peace for years, their allies strong enough
to deter any real trouble. As uncle of the chieftain and commander of all the
MacKillop fighting men, he thought things had been quiet. Too quiet. With
the worst of the winter coming soon, Iain could not imagine being here with
all the squabbling and . . . children.
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Having never been blessed with ones of his own before his wife passed,
he now grew impatient around the young ones. ’Twas not that he disliked
them; nay, it was rather that he’d wanted to have children too much.
Marry again, his nephew Jamie had said. Jamie had even offered to
make arrangements for a suitable bride as befitted the uncle of the chieftain.
Suitable bride, his arse! Jamie simply wanted to use him to cement some
far-flung relationship, as his own father had done with Iain’s first marriage.
Now, though, Iain refused to be a pawn again.
As though thinking on Jamie’s marriage plans had made him appear,
Iain noticed his nephew approaching the table where Iain sat. Lifting the
mug and pouring the last bit into his mouth, Iain stood and pushed the stool
away, determined to avoid this again.
“Iain, stay a moment,” Jamie said as he arrived next to Iain. “I have a
matter to discuss with ye.”
“Jamie, leave it be,” he said. “I want no woman to wife now.”
His nephew studied him in silence and nodded, before sitting down and
drawing Iain down next to him. Holding up Iain’s mug, he signaled his
desire for ale to a passing maid. When a clean cup appeared filled with ale,
his nephew drank deeply of it before speaking.
“I mean no disrespect to Elisabeth, uncle, when I urge you to remarry. I
doubt she would want you to remain unhappy for the rest of your life.”
“I am not unhappy,” Iain replied. “And you do not know how Elisabeth
would feel about it.”
But Iain did. Elisabeth had begged him on her deathbed not to mourn
her. To marry again. To have the children she could never give him with
another. Iain’s stomach soured at the memory.
“Fine,” his nephew said. “Then I will put it plainly to you—I need you
to strengthen our alliance with the MacLarens. They have a daughter of
marriageable age, and . . .”
Iain’s expression must have changed without him realizing it, for his
nephew stopped in the middle of his words. Of marriageable age meant a
girl barely into womanhood. No matter that it was customary; as a man of
more than two score years, he had no wish to take a near-child as his bride.
“Have I not served ye and our clan all my life, Jamie?”
he asked, already knowing the answer. “Have I not done everything
asked of me by first yer father and then by ye?” Iain stood then, and his
nephew raised his gaze to follow him. A curt nod was the only
acknowledgement.
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