Captured Heart by Heather McCollum

Author:Heather McCollum [McCollum, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: C429, Extratorrents, Kat
Publisher: Entangled Select
Published: 2012-09-19T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

1 January 1518—Heather: green, wiry shrub, small leaves with white or purple/pink flowers in mid to late summer. Find in rocky soil on northern moors and mountains in the Highlands.

A brew from the plant will break stones in the urine. The decoction calms nerves that plague the heart and suppresses coughs. Its fragrance sends the mind to the western sea.

“My father?” Meg stared at the man, weighing him, the one who’d let her mother go. He was big, a Highlander for certain. His hand came up to his chin as if to pull at the beard that was no longer there.

“I didn’t know,” he said low as if he read the hardness of her eyes.

Was she that transparent? Meg concentrated on presenting a blank face.

“If I’d known she was with child, I would never have let her leave despite how she begged me to let her go.” Colin’s voice had turned rough. “Isabelle was always dutiful, and when her father threatened to bring England down on the Macleods…she just gave in.”

“I don’t think she knew she was pregnant yet,” Rachel said softly. “She would have told me.”

“I saw ye once,” Colin said. “I came to drag her back to Scotland. I saw ye peek out the window when I found her in the garden.” He shook his head. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have left without both of ye.”

Rachel clasped Meg’s hand. “All these years, I thought you were Boswell’s daughter. That was until I saw Colin without all that fur hiding his face.” She glanced between them. “Meg, you look exactly like him.”

The council of three came closer, having overheard the startling news.

“Bloody lucky for Caden, not too much,” Bruce said.

Two men that had ridden with Colin from Macleod territory walked over, their gazes curious. Narrowed eyes studied Colin and then moved to her in unison. A slow grin broke through the beard on the tall Macleod with fuzzy red hair.

“She is your likeness, Colin,” the man named Seonaidh said. “Most fervently.” He slapped Colin’s shoulder. “See, man? You do have a direct heir. Shame she can’t grow a beard and throw a sword, but an heir just the same.”

“Aye, but she can shoot,” Colin boasted.

Meg’s own happiness pulled at her lips. Colin Macleod was her father, not Rowland Boswell, traitor to the English crown and murderer of her mother, the monster who wanted to torture her.

“I remember, I think,” Meg said, the memories hazy and mixed with fear. She slid her hand in her pocket where her key sat heavy, and she pulled it out.

“The key,” Colin said.

Everyone in the circle moved closer in, heads bowed to see the intricate scrollwork etched into the handle. Jonet, Ann, and Donald had joined the group. Meg could barely see the key in her hand with everyone intent on studying it.

“My mother left it for me,” she said.

“Aye,” Colin said. “I gave it to her when I came to England.” His large finger touched the odd lines carved into the iron.

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