Never Cross a Highlander by Lisa Rayne

Author:Lisa Rayne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Scottish Highlands;Hebrides Islands;Scottish clans;King James;Stirling Castle;slavery;slaves;feuding clans;secret identity;Highlander Romance;Action & Adventure Romance Fiction;Scottish Historical Romance;Women's Historical Fiction;African American Romance Fiction;African American Romance;Action & Adventure Romance;Genre Fiction;Never Cross a Highlander by Lisa Rayne;Entangled publishing;Amara;Mass Market paperback romance;new romance book;popular romance book;romance book by a black author;african american romance author;single title romance;stand alone romance book;historical romance;author of color;romance by author of color;BIPOC;like Heather McCollum;Black historical romance;2022 Romance book;2022 Mass Market Romance;book with an Happy ending;diverse author;diverse romance book;diverse romance novel;diverse fiction
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2022-09-05T15:05:49+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Kallum heeled Ogun into a canter, keeping the mare tethered to the stallion, and led Ailsa down to face the MacNeills. The gate opened for them, and they rode into the middle of the courtyard. Kallum dismounted.

A young, bonnie lass with light brown hair pinned at the nape and flowing down her back came running from the manor.

Without stopping, the lass launched herself at Kallum’s chest. “Kallum! You’re finally home!”

He caught her and twirled her around with a laugh.

His laughter shocked Ailsa. ’Twas not a sound she would ever have associated with the braw warrior. His face near shined with adoration as he placed the lass onto her feet and planted a kiss on her forehead. Ailsa wondered who she was, and the twinge in her gut at the obvious affection between the two took her by surprise. ’Twas not as if she had or wanted a claim on the MacNeill. Her carnal fantasies aside, Kallum MacNeill was not hers to possess or feel possessive over.

“Caitrin, lass, you must stop tossing yourself around thus. You are no longer a bairn. With the size of you, one day, I’ll be unable to catch you and drop you on your arse.”

She swatted him on the arm. “Ha. Not funny. I weigh but a pittance. You will be sporting gray in your locs afore you can’t lift the likes of me. And you are late.”

He gave the twists of his ponytail a jaunty flick and winked at her afore he asked, “Late? Says who?”

“Says me,” the lass responded with a pout. “Inan said you’d be along ‘shortly.’ That was days and days and days ago. We were about to send men out to look for you.”

“We or you, my little worrier?” He tapped his index finger to her nose.

Caitrin blushed at his comment, then turned her gaze to the mare. Her eyes widened upon finding Ailsa astride the horse.

The girl—woman—Kallum had called Caitrin shifted her gaze from Ailsa to Kallum back to Ailsa and finally to Kallum again with a perplexed look upon her face. “You brought a woman home?” The awe, and mayhap some disapproval, in her voice did not escape Ailsa.

Noticing where the lass’s attention focused, Kallum moved Caitrin gently aside with the back of a hand to the front of her shoulder and came to assist Ailsa in dismounting the horse.

He turned back to the lass. “Caitrin, this is Ailsa. Ailsa, this is Caitrin. Inan’s sister and my favorite pest.”

One of Caitrin’s hands went to her hip, and she canted it at a sassy angle. “I am not a pest.”

“Aye, you are, and everyone knows it.” The wink he gave her took any sting from his words.

“Well, Kallum”—the warrior who had stood with him at the tournament strolled into the courtyard—“how nice of you to finally grace us with your presence.”

Kallum acknowledged him solemnly. “Inan.”

Inan peered at Ailsa, and it took but a moment for his eyes to widen with a look of disbelief. He covered it quickly. Caitrin

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