AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You are all such great women!” she blurted with little finesse.
“Oh, Moira,” Lady Aileen exclaimed. “You also are a very strong woman for what you’re doing here.”
A shy smile stretched her lips. They knew next to nothing of her clan’s struggles, but seemed to see through the appearances. The arrival of tea cut out any answer she might have given.
A long while passed in friendly conversation when the men entered, their eyes immediately in search of their wives. Wallace took Ewan from Freya and sat next to her.
The last to come was Lachlan, her avid glare going to him as his found hers, a scalding flush erupted throughout her body. Hazel eyes darted downwards to hide the devastating effect he always unleashed on her.
“I thought I’d not live to see the day the last McKendrick fell.” This from the imposing McDougal.
“They all do eventually,” Catriona taunted, sending a suggestive
look at her husband who responded in kind. Fingal seemed utterly besotted with his stunning brunette of a wife.
Lachlan and Moira exchanged a tense glance. They were basically misleading the whole of the Highlands with this ruse. When it was over, the scandal would be of gargantuan proportions. And Moira would lose any prospect of a match. Not that she felt too sad about it, but still…
“I can attest to that,” Aileen said. As a widower, The McDougal had scratched marriage from his life. Until he met the defiant McKendrick lass.
“Everybody has their own timing,” Lady McKendrick contributed. “Still, we wish you all the happiness.” Drostan kissed her temple.
“Same here,” Wallace said from his settee, his legs not so firm as they used to be. The elderly McKendrick had passed on the leadership of his clan to his eldest, and presently, he took part in the lighter duties.
“Thank you,” Moira’s thin voice did not convey certainty.
Claiming the children needed rest, her guests took their leave.
Mighty poundings on the front door startled Moira awake. Her dormant frame sprang upright at the same time a rasp came on her own door.
Quickly, she wrapped her tartan over her night rail and opened it. The newly assigned butler, Murray, stood there.
“My lady, there seems to be a fire.”
From a neighbouring chamber came Lachlan’s thunder. “I said to let her sleep, bluidy hell!”
“I know, my laird, but—” he stopped at the commotion in the yard.
Moira already secured the tartan and pulled on her boots.
In the hallway, the McKendrick giant flew past her and she followed, almost running to keep up with him.
“You meant for me not to help?” she charged at him.
“I’m here, I can do the helping,” he bit out and threw the front door with such force it banged against the wall.
“Like the devil you can,” she spat, then froze as a group of men stood at the entrance.
“Sorry fer waking ye up, my lady, but Duncan’s cottage caught fire.” One of them said looking at the newly betrothed couple.
“Duncan?” A fizz of horror cut through her. “Is everyone all right?”
“Canna tell, Lady Moira,” another man said.
Caitlin counted three children, another on the way. Lachlan and she exchanged a worried look. She only hoped no one got hurt.
She rolled one end of her plaid around her chest for modesty and hurried with the others to Caitlin’s cottage. From this far, they could see the red glow in the distance and foreboding smoke towering into the night sky. It did not look good.
As they neared, a veritable furnace assailed her, the blinding fire roaring with a thirst for destruction.
