His Scottish Bride - Shelly Thacker by Thacker Shelly

Author:Thacker, Shelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Summit Avenue Books
Published: 2020-12-11T00:00:00+00:00

Aileen’s breath made little puffs of fog in the crisp morning air as she mounted a horse in the bailey, assisted by one of the stable boys. On the castle walls high above, green and white pennants marked with the symbol of a silver hunting falcon fluttered in the breeze. Many of Castle Glenshiel’s guests had gathered on the far side of the courtyard to build a towering heap of wood for the traditional Christmas Eve bonfire. But despite the wintry bite in the air, almost forty lords and ladies mustered near the stables for the stag hunt.

As she settled into her saddle, Aileen patted the neck of the creamy white mare Laurien had loaned her for the occasion. One of the children had even braided red and green ribbons into the horse’s mane. Smiling at the sweet gesture, Aileen looked off into the distance at the loch that surrounded the castle and the forests that stretched over the hills beyond. A sprinkling of snow had fallen last night, just enough to make the whole world sparkle and lend a touch of Yuletide magic to this morning’s adventure.

She wrapped her fur-lined brown hunting cloak more closely against the chill. A few delicate snowflakes continued to fall, glittering in the sun’s brightness, as the rest of the hunters mounted their horses. She was genuinely looking forward to this outing. A brief time away from the castle would distract her from worrying about tomorrow…when Lord Alsh would arrive.

For today, for now, she was still a free woman. And thanks to Henri’s clever thinking last night, she would be spending the entire morning in his company.

With several chaperones, of course.

When he had agreed to go in search of a Yule Wolf, his one condition had been that he would need a guide to show him where to search, lest he become lost.

But instead of sending him off with one guide—as he had mayhap hoped—the MacLennans were generously sending him off with eight guides.

The hunters began riding out in pairs and trios and a few larger groups, each accompanied by a squire or groomsman to assist with the deer they brought down. Henri’s group was by far the largest: Aileen, her pretty cousin Robina, one of Darach’s guardsmen, two of his squires, her cousin Leith, and her brothers Brochan and Magnus.

The three MacLennan men, strapping warriors all, would brook no untoward behavior on the part of a frisky Frenchman.

Henri came out of the stables, leading his huge bay destrier toward her. He looked every inch the warrior lord this morning, from his black garments— fur-lined ebony cloak, black tunic and leggings, black leather boots and gloves—to the weapons he wore. He had a short sword and a large hunting knife sheathed in his belt, a crossbow in one hand.

“Good morn to you, milady,” he said cheerfully, his smile confident as ever, his black hair ruffled by the breeze. “You look well prepared for today’s outing.” He secured the crossbow to his saddle, then stepped over to check her stirrups.

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