The Highland Warlord’s Kiss (Highland Myths Trilogy #2) Read Online Donna Fletcher

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Erotic, Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Highland Myths Trilogy Series by Donna Fletcher
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Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89331 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
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“You must have been angry when you had no choice but to wed me.”

“To be honest, Torin, I believe I was quite numb to everything after my parents died and I learned that I had to travel to the wild Highlands and live with an uncle I did not know, an uncle who would have complete say over me, over my future. An uncle who wed me to a Highlander I had only met and sent me off to live my life with him. It was terrifying and yet fate knew better and brought us together and I will be forever grateful.”

Torin pulled his wife into his arms and kissed her. “You are mine. Now and always.”

“Aye, husband, I am,” she confirmed, realizing he needed to hear it and needing to hear it herself.

“Let’s see this done and take some private time for ourselves before supper,” Torin suggested with a teasing smile.

“Aye, I have been thinking about riding you again. I quite enjoyed it,” she said, wrapping her arm around his and leaning slightly against him as they continued to walk.

“Bloody hell, wife,” he grumbled low so no one could hear. “Talk like that flashes an image in my head that turns me hard.”

“Good,” she said with a sweet grin.

“You wish me to suffer?”

“I wish for you to have a reason to hurry us to the keep, for I am already wet for you.”

“Damn,” he mumbled and turned them around to head to the keep. “I will send for the fellow later.” As soon as she went to speak, he hurried to say, “And do not tell me it is a wise choice. It is a necessary one… an extremely necessary one.”

“I was not going to say that, though you are right. I was going to suggest that we hasten our pace. I have a desperate need for you, husband.”

Torin grinned, scooped his wife up, tossing her over his shoulder, and rushed to the keep.

“And your uncle sent no word with this Henry?” Iona asked, having joined Flora at the dais.

“Only that Henry arrived there with important news for me and so my uncle sent him here,” Flora said, watching her husband make his way through the Great Hall talking with the Strathearn warriors who had been invited to sup here along with some of the clan’s warriors and Walsh’s men as well.

“Henry talks easily with the men,” Iona said, seeing him in conversation with a couple of mercenaries.

“He seeks to learn things from them. He will be the talk of Edinburgh among his colleagues when he returns and is invited to give talks on his experience in the Highlands.”

“Then his trip will not be completely in vain,” Iona said. “You do realize your husband will never let anyone take you from him, don’t you? He will battle for you if necessary.”

“I, myself, would never let anyone take me from him and I do not want him to battle and chance losing his life. This will be settled civilly, and Henry sent on his way,” Flora said and pushed a tankard away that a servant had sat in front of her on the table.

“No more drink for you?” Iona asked.

Flora patted her stomach. “I cannot put another bit of drink or food in me. I am stuffed.” She pushed the tankard to Iona. “Have it if you’d like.”

Iona took the tankard, enjoying the drink. She licked her lips after several swallows and scrunched her brow.

“Something wrong?” Flora asked.

“The taste,” Iona said, and her eyes went wide as her hand went to her stomach.

“Iona,” Flora asked anxiously, realizing something was amiss.

“Poison,” Iona said as she stumbled to her feet, mumbling something to Flora.

Flora rushed out of the chair as Iona toppled toward her, and she screamed out, “TORIN, POISON!”

CHAPTER 27

Kinnell rushed to the dais, reaching it before Torin did and vaulted over the table to take Iona in his arms before Torin reached his wife’s side. He sank to the floor with her, his heart beating madly in his chest when he saw her fight to keep her eyes open.

“Don’t you die on me, Iona,” Kinnell shouted at her as if she could not hear him. “You cannot die before we have a chance to love, marry, have bairns, and grow old together. Do you hear me? I will not have it. You will not leave me. I have been a fool. I should have told you sooner. I should not have wasted time.” He bent his head and kissed her brow. “Please, Iona, please, I beg you. Do not leave me.”

Tears pooled in Iona’s fluttering eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks, trailing slowly down them.

“Henry!” Flora shouted to her husband’s dismay. “Black henbane,” she repeated what Iona had mumbled to her. “Do you recall it?”

“Aye,” Henry said, having hurried forward. “That scholar from Innerbrook believed it could keep a person from feeling horrific pain. Unfortunately, through trial and error he discovered too much would kill a person. How much did she drink?”


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