Read Susan King - [Celtic Nights 01] for Free Online Page A

"exactly."
    "Ah," he said. "And what exactly is it?" He rested his hand on the stone, his gaze winter cool, the small scar pale where it slashed through his left eyebrow.
    A blush heated her cheeks, and she looked away. "I know that the Normans have helped Scotland and our kings in the past, and the Scottish crown values Normans for their military strength. But they bring too much change to Scotland."
    "And you do not want to wed with one."
    "I do not," she agreed.
    "Your clan might benefit from such a union."
    "Never."
    "You are a stubborn girl, I think," he mused.
    "I am. I have to be so, for the sake of my people. I cannot watch my clan be disbanded and destroyed."
    "And you fear that a Norman husband would do that. Why?"
    "I know he would." She drew her fingers over the grainy texture of the sandstone. "Normans would destroy our legacy, our history, our very name, and make it their own."
    "This Highland enemy of yours is more likely to do that than a Norman."
    "And I will not wed either one."
    A wry smile played at his mouth. "You make that clear enough," he said. "Lady, I am not a Scottish subject. I am not obligated to accept a grant from King William if he offers one to me."
    She blinked. "You would refuse Kinlochan?"
    "I have other plans," he said quietly.
    She felt relief, but also a surprising disappointment. Of course she wanted him to refuse, she told herself. Yet she felt curious about him, drawn to his strength, to his wit, and his keen, kind gaze.
    She caught her breath as she realized that he resembled the faery warrior in her dream. How ironic that a Norman would match that perfect warrior—ironic, disturbing, and unthinkable.
    Handsome blond warriors were common, she told herself.
    "The king will offer you Kinlochan," she said sharply. "No Norman would refuse such a gift. You are an ambitious sort, eager to foster your fortunes on Scottish soil."
    He leaned toward her. "My ambitions do not include marrying a hot-tempered Highland girl and settling on some remote mountain to fight her war. I will leave that to your Celtic paragon, wherever he may be."
    She blinked, stunned. He stared at her, nearly nose to nose, his arm buttressing the stone jamb, his hand just above hers. She would not tilt back, refusing to yield even that much. They breathed in tandem and watched one another.
    She had rarely seen eyes of so clear a gray, or sparking so with anger. Her eyes surely matched his for flash and fire just then. She lowered her brows in a scowl to make certain of it.
    "You must not accept the grant if it is offered you."
    "Is that a warning?" he asked softly.
    "It is." Her heart thudded. She could not take her gaze from his. She sensed his powerful will, as strong—even stronger—than her own. The feeling was odd and exciting.
    "I do not do well with warnings," he said in a low voice. "I have a habit of going against them."
    "Celtic clans do not want Normans among them," she said. "The barbarians of the Highlands attack anyone who attempts to take their land. It is why the Highlands have so few Norman settlers, while the Lowlands are filling with them. Rein in your greed and your ambition."
    "Are you a leader of rebels, to speak so hot?"
    "We would certainly rebel if someone tried to take our land," she replied. "But we do not rebel against our king."
    "I rode beside your king while he defeated a host of Celtic rebels last year. After what I saw there, be sure that my ambitions do not include sharing land with savages."
    "Good," she snapped. "Tell the king that Kinlochan goes only to a Celtic warrior."
    "God help that Celt." He turned to pull open the great arched door. "My lady, you wanted to see the abbey."
    Heart pounding, Alainna hesitated. Then she remembered that the entrance porch of a church, where she stood with the knight, was the traditional site for marriage ceremonies. The thought was so distressing that she stepped past him quickly.
    "I did want to see the stonework," she admitted.
    "Here is your