The Legendary Highlander (Highland Myths Trilogy #3) Read Online Donna Fletcher

Categories Genre: Historical Fiction, Myth/Mythology Tags Authors: Series: Highland Myths Trilogy Series by Donna Fletcher
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Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
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“She had you in her spell,” Argus scolded. “You must not linger on her. She will have you spellbound in no time.”

“You worry senselessly,” Varrick said, though what was it he had felt when his fingers had accidentally grazed her cheek? The pleasant sensation still trickled through him. “It need not concern you.”

“But it does, for I will not see you consumed by her evil,” Argus argued. “We need to be done with her as fast as possible and be rid of her.”

“Is that the word you wish to have with me?” Varrick snapped.

“I will never stop speaking as a friend to you, when necessary, no matter how annoyed you get at me.”

“Something I count on, Argus,” Varrick said and meant it.

“No one follows or waits ahead thus far,” Argus said, delivering his intended message. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Has the witch sensed anything?”

“She has said nothing so far.”

“Evil protects evil. She will not warn you. You need to threaten her to do so,” Argus said.

“It is better to wait,” Varrick advised, “and see what she does.”

Argus nodded. “See if she reveals evil or joins it.” His brow puckered. “What if she joins with evil?”

Varrick did not need to think about his response. “Then she dies with it.”

Argus smiled, pleased.

“Now let’s get to her cottage and be done with that,” Varrick ordered.

CHAPTER 5

For a moment, Fia felt joy seeing her cottage, but it was a fleeting joy since she strongly sensed she would never see it again after today. She had woken this morning with a light blanket of snow covering her. The campfires had helped dispel some of the cold last night, as did the fur-lined cloak and wool blanket given to her, but none were enough to keep the cold ground from seeping in and chilling her body.

Thankfully, the snow had fallen only lightly throughout the day yesterday and into the night, but the gray sky and frigid air warned that a heavy snowfall was on the way, and she wished she could spend it snug in her cottage.

“Gather what you need so we can be on our way, a storm approaches and we have several more days of travel,” Varrick ordered as he reached up to lift her off the horse.

The strength in which he so easily lifted her warned that she possessed no defense against him. Her grandmother had reminded her of that often. She had told Fia that a man’s hands could be like shackles, forever imprisoned by them, and that she was never to get close enough to get caught in them. She had also warned of the gentle touch of a man. She had advised that it could be wonderful if the man was pure of heart and love, whereas a lying heart would bring endless pain.

Fia feared it might be too late, that she was already in shackles, forever imprisoned, something she would not let stand. She would be free, or she would die trying.

She was not surprised to see Varrick follow her into the cottage. He did not trust her, and she did not trust him. She could see by the way he glanced around that he was not only curious but surprised as well. She kept the cottage neat and clean just as her mum and grandmother had done. It made it easier to locate what was needed when she tended the ill who came for help.

Varrick pointed to a narrow table against a wall. “Do those crocks contain healing plants you wish to take with you?” He looked up overhead. “And these bunches of dried plants that hang here as well?”

“I would like to take them since I do not know if your healer possesses any.”

“I have no healer.”

Surprised, Fia asked, “Then who tends the ill?”

“Lloyd, the warrior who is skilled in treating the wounded on the battlefield. He does well by us.”

“What of the women?” she asked.

He shrugged. “What of them? They know better how to treat their ills than a man and they assist each other in birthing.”

“I will take all my herbs and plants with me,” Fia said, realizing all she had would no doubt be needed.

“I did not wed you to be my healer,” he warned.

“Then why did you wed me?” she asked and again, he ignored her question.

“The crocks will not travel well. Wrap them as best you can and wrap your healing plants in cloth. Put what you need in baskets with handles that will hook easily to the saddles. Do not take long.”

Fia was glad he left after that. She feared packing her things would bring tears to her eyes and she did not want to cry in front of him. This cottage was the only home she had ever known and leaving it was breaking her heart. It was the one place she had known genuine love, and she feared she would never know such love again.



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