Page 65 of The Lass Defended the Laird (Explosive Highlanders 2)

The clans had gathered at Beltane festival where the mood had been hopeful. After Taran’s short speech, people ate and drank merrily.

“Almost.” Came Lachlan. “If it was not for Aileen fulminating us with her glare.” Their sister made it clear to be against said speech for she deemed it unnecessary given the circumstances.

“Oh, you know your sister.” Taran and Aileen exchanged a loving glance. “She has got the McKendrick’s hard-head.”

“I can attest to that.” Wallace contributed.

“It is not hard-head.” Aileen defended herself. “You men are always so bellicose.”

“I cannot disagree with it.” Freya s

upported her sister-in-law.

“Yes. She spent years avoiding clan dissention after all.” Drostan added with admiration for his wife in his eyes.

“We have a lot to look forward to now.” Wallace said hopeful with Ewan’s future.

“Yes. And we are all going to work towards a peaceful future.” Freya reassured.

The men mumbled agreement.

The nanny came to take the children to bed.

“She is such a lovely little thing.” Aileen commented before the nanny left.

“You should hear her wailing.” Lachlan jested. “The little lass could be a chieftain!”

Everybody laughed at that. “She just might.” Her father answered proud.

When everybody retired, Drostan and Freya stayed in the terrace watching the moon tinge the landscape in a mystic light.

“Come give us a kiss.” Drostan laced her by her waist.

“Only one?” Freya asked with a mocking pout.

“As many as you want.” He conceded with a smile.

“A million then.” She negotiated just before he started the first.

His thumbs adored her satiny skin. “I love you, wife.”

She smiled up at him. “I love you, husband.”

The End

Continue reading on a sneak peek of The Lass Beguiled the Laird, in Explosive Highland Series book 3.

Coming soon!

PREVIEW OF THE LASS BEGUILED THE LAIRD

Summer 1811

Fiandhaich, Furious in Scottish Gaelic, the new stallion, stood in the centre of the stockyard, magnificent black fur gleaming in the sun. Fingal’s stable master held him by a rope, trying to get him used to being reined and saddled. So far, the stallion had refused to comply. For months now. No amount of apples or oats had produced any effect towards such goal.

Fingal had acquired him in an auction in Aberdeen and the animal came with all the paperwork in order. At a distance, he watched his stablemaster’s efforts; and wondered if he had struck a good bargain. His horseflesh made him proud as much as famous in all the Highlands for his expertise and love for his equestrian friends.

He should have asked the reason for the stallion’s name.

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