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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Nettle returned with the cider and the three women talked and laughed and for a while Snow felt herself at home.

“What are you doing here, Nettle?”

The lass jumped and almost fell off the bench at Tarass’s demanding question. “Fasta gave me the chore of helping Snow, my lord.”

“Go get Fasta and return here with her,” Tarass ordered.

“You need to eat and get some rest,” Twilla said.

“I need no coddling, Twilla,” Tarass snapped.

Twilla snapped right back at him. “Need it or not, I give it.”

Snow ignored the two, placing Thaw on the ground along with her bowl that Twilla had filled again for her.

“Do not feed that pup until you have eaten,” Tarass ordered.

“I have already eaten and I will feed my pup as I please,” Snow said more calmly than she felt. “Has something happened? You snap and snarl as badly as Thaw.”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Tarass grumbled.

“I would hope you would tell me if it concerned me,” Snow said.

“You need not concern yourself about anything.”

“I am not your wife. I am a guest, though if I were your wife I still would demand the same. I will not be treated like a child. If there is an issue that pertains to me, I expect to be informed about it,” she said, determined not to be ignored.

“If you were my wife, you would learn fast enough not to demand,” Tarass said tersely.

Snow’s response was just as curt. “Thank the heavens that’s not now an issue nor will it ever be.”

Twilla watched the play of words between the two and a smile crept over her face.

“You summoned me, my lord,” Fasta asked, preventing anymore exchange between the pair.

“You assigned Nettle to Snow?” he asked his authoritative tone demanding an explanation.

“Everyone is busy with this snowstorm. She was the only one available,” Fasta explained.

“I like Nettle, she will do fine,” Snow said, upset the two spoke in front of the lass as if she wasn’t capable of helping Snow. It reminded her of how people spoke in front of her with no regard to how their words would affect her.

“I will speak to you later, Fasta,” Tarass said, dismissing her, then turned to Nettle. “You, Nettle, will hold your tongue while helping Snow.”

“Why? Is there something you don’t want her to tell me?” Snow asked.

“You, Snow, will not interfere when I speak to my servants,” Tarass scolded.

Snow stood and Thaw hurried to her side, having gobbled down his meal. “I most certainly will when it concerns me.” Thaw punctuated her words with a snarl. “Now if you will excuse me, I am in need of a wash and rest. Nettle, please help me to my room.”

Nettle didn’t wait, she hurried around the table and took hold of Snow’s arm. “This way.”

Tarass’s hand swung out to grab hold of Snow’s arm as she walked past him.

Snow turned her head to face him, at least she hoped she looked directly at him. “Don’t bother to tell me about obedience. Need I remind you again I’m not your wife? I am a guest and I expect to be treated accordingly.”

“It’s a good thing you aren’t my wife.”

“Why? Would you punish me?”

Tarass leaned in close, his cheek brushing hers as he whispered, “I would take you to our bedchamber and teach you what it means to obey your husband.”

Snow swallowed her gasp and where her response came from she couldn’t say. “Or perhaps I would teach you what a wife not only needs but wants from her husband.” She pulled her arm free. “Let’s go, Nettle.”

She walked away glad Nettle had hold of her arm, afraid her trembling legs would fail her.

“I’m assuming your anger has something to do with the body you came across in the woods?” Twilla asked after Snow was gone from the room.

Tarass swerved around to glare at the old woman. “How do you know about the body?” He shook his head while answering his own question. “Rannock.”

Twilla ignored him and continued with questions. “Has the body been retrieved? Do you know the identity of the person? Friend or foe?”

“Enough, Twilla,” Tarass ordered.

“No, it’s not enough,” Twilla snapped. “Year after year I stayed here, alone, and guarded your home so it would not fall to another clan. As long as a MacFiere occupied the keep, the surrounding clans had to protect it, so I stayed and kept my promise to your da. I thought all of you; your da, mum, and you would return. It broke my heart to learn of your parents’ death, and I want revenge for their murders as much as you do. So for my loyalty alone, I ask that you tell me what goes on. I am sure your da told you that I know many of the MacFiere secrets and will take them to my grave, meaning you can trust me with anything… my lord.”


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