Highlander Lord of Fire Read online Donna Fletcher (Macardle Sisters of Courage #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Macardle Sisters of Courage Series by Donna Fletcher
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Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
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Thaw gave a bark as if appreciating the compliment.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Snow,” Nettle continued. “I’ll take good care of you. You are so beautiful and—”

“That’s enough, Nettle,” Fasta scolded. “Keep hold of your tongue and serve Snow well. I imagine she requires help feeding herself so see to feeding her.”

Snow stared after the shadow that retreated.

“She’s off to torment some other poor soul,” Nettle whispered as she sat across from Snow at the trestle table. “There’s a bowl in front of you and food on platters. Shall I help you?”

“Thank you, Nettle, but I can feed myself,” Snow said and wondered over the woman. Curiosity always had her wondering what people, she’d only met since blind, looked like.

“Let me know what you need help with and I’ll see to it,” Nettle said.

With this stranger given the chore of helping her, Snow felt the need to know more about her. “You have a Scottish tongue while other tongues I hear are unfamiliar to my ear.”

“Lord Tarass found me along the way home, starving and grubby I was. My mum threw me out after my da died. Told me she never wanted me and named me Nettle, after the stinging Nettle plant, because I stung her so badly when she birthed me. She was a mean one, never wanted bairns. My da did, though, and he was a good da.” She laughed softly. “We often talked about running away but my da was too honorable a man to do such a thing. Not so my mum. She had a man in her bed a week after she buried my da and put me out a couple days after that. Though, not before she told me that I was like my da too ugly for anyone to ever love me.”

“That’s terrible,” Snow said, appalled that any mum could do or say such horrible things to their child.

“I’m lucky Lord Tarass offered me a home and barbarian or not, I accepted it.”

“Lord Tarass is a Scot as well,” Snow clarified.

“Aye, but he mostly has barbarians with him,” Nettle said softly as if she didn’t want anyone to hear her.

“Are you telling tales again, lass?”

Snow smiled, recognizing the voice. “Twilla.”

“It’s wonderful to see you again, Snow,” Twilla said and gave her a hug. “How are you doing? And who is this fine looking pup?” She reached down and gave Thaw a rub behind his ear.

Thaw gave the old woman a quick look and accepted her attention graciously, then plopped his head down and closed his eyes, deciding the woman posed no threat.

Snow had met Twilla before she had lost her sight and from what Sorrell had told her, the old woman hadn’t changed much since then. She was old but saucy with long sliver hair she kept in a braid, rail thin, though not for a lack of a hardy appetite, and dark blue eyes with the keen sight of a hawk.

“I’m doing well, Twilla, and this pup is Thaw,” Snow said. “And how do you fare?”

“At my age, as long as I wake each morning, I’m good,” Twilla said with a laugh. “I heard Lord Tarass found you in the snowstorm and brought you straight here.”

“And how lucky was I that he did,” Snow said, going along with Tarass’s explanation so that no one knew they spent time alone together in the cottage. It would make for a difficult situation, neither of them wanting to be forced to wed.

“No doubt you’ll be with us a few days with this endless snow,” Twilla said.

“It was a light snowfall when we arrived. Has the snow grown worse?” Snow asked, having hoped it hadn’t since she wanted to return home as soon as possible.

“It’s raging out there again,” Twilla informed her, “but you’re safe here now so no need to worry. Eat, you must be hungry.” She leaned past Snow and grabbed foods, from different bowls and boards, to place in Snow’s bowl. “There’s some salted hake and cod, tasty bread, and stewed kale. What’s this ale doing here? Go fetch a pitcher of the freshly made cider, Nettle.”

Nettle was up and off in a flash.

“If you’re wondering about Nettle, she’s a good lass, though pokes her nose where it doesn’t belong at times. She’s ten and seven years and by all rights should be wed with bairns of her own by now, but she’s a plain one and not built too sturdy so the men Tarass brought home with him don’t favor her much and there aren’t many Highland men that visit here. She’ll probably spend her days serving here in the keep, but at least she has shelter and a clan to look after her.”

Snow felt a kindred spirit in Nettle, like her, she was destined to be alone.

“Now eat and tell me about Sorrell and Willow and their new husbands,” Twilla urged as she took a seat across from Snow.



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