Across a Windswept Isle by Brisbin Terri

Author:Brisbin, Terri
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: romance, historical, Scotland, medieval, Highlander, sexy, adventure, novella, Mull, MacKinnon, McLean, short story, castle, Harlequin, Highlanders, historical romance, HQN, love story, Scottish, HEA, alpha hero
ISBN: 9780998532639
Publisher: Luckenbooth Press
Published: 2017-10-10T04:00:00+00:00

It amazed Iain how cold the chambers in a stone keep could be. If not for the well-set fire in the chieftain’s hearth, Iain would have been chilled. Standing naked, except for his boots, before The MacKinnon was not what he had planned to do, but the man would brook no refusal. Breac and the other man stood nearby in case he thought to naysay their laird, though their gazes were directed elsewhere throughout this inspection.

“Does it yet pain ye?” The MacKinnon asked as he nodded his permission for Iain to dress.

Iain shook his head as he turned his back and tugged the trews up, tying the laces at his waist. The hooded tunic followed, but he left the hood gathered at his neck as he placed the fabric mask over his face and tied it behind his head. When he eased the hood into place, Iain felt more secure. Facing the others as he slid on the gloves, he looked for their reaction to his disfigurement and was surprised by the lack of it.

“I’d sent men to the brothers to confirm yer story,” The MacKinnon said as he offered Iain an empty cup.

The older man reached up on a shelf and took down a precious glass bottle. Opening it himself, the laird poured a good amount of the golden liquid into Iain’s cup before pouring some for himself. Breac and the other two were dismissed with another nod before the powerful man directed him to sit.

Iain waited for him to take a drink of the uisge beatha first and then sipped from his cup. This was a powerful brew and he waited as it moved over his tongue and down his throat. ‘Twas a smooth, deep, intense and rich flavor of a skillfully-distilled spirit. He paused before drinking more and looked at the chieftain.

“Did ye find what ye were seeking?” he asked. Iain had questioned the brothers for days trying to find out more about himself.

“Gold has a way of loosening men’s tongues,” The MacKinnon began. “Much like this does.”

He held up his cup of uisge beatha between them and drank more of it. Did the man think Iain held back some secret that spirits would free? If only it was that simple. Iain took a deep swallow and waited for the rest of The MacKinnon’s disclosures. The warmth of the golden liquid spread from his stomach to his limbs, removing any lingering discomfort. But it didn’t ease the sense of warning in his blood.

The chieftain’s gaze revealed not a glimmer of recognition. No sign that the man saw anything in his features, those that had not been burned, that were familiar to him. Iain let out a breath and waited for what the chieftain would say, now that Iain understood his identity was yet unknown.

“They told me exactly what ye had said. Injured and left for dead. Ye spent the last several months in their care.” The laird drank another mouthful and then nodded at Iain. “They said that ye are lucky, blessed, to be alive at all.

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