Read Highland Brides 03 - On Bended Knee for Free Online Page A

face is as sweet as a lassie’s.”
    “Page called me a behemoth,” he said proudly in defense of himself.
    Colin’s smile widened. “Baby-faced behemoth.”
    Broc narrowed his eyes. “You’re a bastard!”
    Colin laughed.
    Broc lapsed into silence a moment, then said, “Imagine what it might have done to you to be spurned by your da. That bastard did not even want her, Colin.” He shook his head in disgust. “He told us to keep her or kill her, he cared not which. What sort of man does that, tell me!”
    Colin didn’t have to imagine it. His da had never been satisfied with his sons. He’d found fault with everything Colin had ever done. Nothing ever pleased him. Meghan and Gavin had been spared his wrath and heavy hand, but he and Leith had borne the burden of their father’s expectations. Still, not even his own da could have been so cold. “A cruel man,” Colin replied.
    “Well, Page never let it conquer her spirit,” Broc said, with admiration. “The lass has the heart of a saint behind the armor of her tongue. Och, but she can kill with a look. I pity Iain when her temper is roused!”
    Colin chuckled at the image of Iain MacKinnon cowering before his lovely wife, and he was reminded suddenly of his mystery woman. “Saucy wench,” he said, remembering her cutting glances and snappy tongue.
    Damn but those lips had been sweet… even if her tongue was not.
    He’d like to have tasted that tongue, he thought, and felt himself stir at the images that came to mind.
    Who was she?
    “Aye, she is,” Broc said, thinking Colin was still speaking about Page. “Ye should have seen her challenge Iain. Och, but, nay… ye should have seen her challenge the bloody lot of us!” He chuckled to himself. “The pawky wench! She kept us awake singing lullabies and stole our bloody horses, had us chasing her bare arsed across the border!”
    Colin frowned, too preoccupied now with his own thoughts to focus upon his friend’s tales.
    Whatever had happened to the girl from last eve? He’d looked for her all night, listened for her voice, searched through the crowd to no avail. She had simply vanished.
    And then he had become sotted with drink, and had made a bloody fool of himself. What was wrong with him that he’d had to prove himself… unmarred ?
    He winced as he recalled the rumors… shriveled nuts had he? Who would say such a vicious thing? Who would be so spiteful as to cast doubt upon his ability to father a child and bed a wife?
    But it angered him more that he seemed to need to prove the rumor a lie!
    He should have let them all think what they would, and carried on as he had always done! Why should he care what anyone thought?
    He didn’t like that about himself, that he was constantly proving himself though no one asked it of him.
    “What the hell is taking him so long?” Broc asked, casting impatient glances at the woods. “He said he was only going to piss—how long does it take?”
    “Ehhh, leave him be. Mayhap he drank too much and finds himself in need of a good purging.”
    Broc made a disgusted a face. “Aye, well, ye ought to be spewing your guts out this morn, too, ye drunken arse!”
    God’s truth, he might still. He was suddenly not feeling so well. Damned rotgut uisge .
    The sound of the arrow as it embedded within the tree sent Cameron stumbling backwards on his arse.
    He saw it belatedly, wobbling ominously mere inches from where he had stood relieving himself. He hadn’t had time even to feel the leap of his heart before he was at once surrounded.
    Englishmen.
    Dressed in tunic and breeches and armed to the teeth, seven of them stood glaring down at him. He might have been afraid in that moment, except that he recognized the oldest, stoutest of the group. He met the man’s eyes, not bothering to rise from where he sat.
    “We’ve been waiting for you,” the older man said smugly.
    “’Tis no way to greet a man!” Cameron spat, annoyed by the smirks upon their faces.
    The