Read To Tame a Highland Warrior for Free Online Page B

da summon him?
Come for Jillian
. Just what had her da intended with such a note? A shiver slipped down her spine as she contemplated the possessive sound of the words. Why would Grimm Roderick respond to such a strange missive? He’d tortured her ceaselessly as a child and he’d rejected her as a young woman. He was an overbearing lout—who’d once been the hero of her every fantasy.
    Now he was back at Caithness, and that was simply unacceptable. Regardless of her da’s reasons for summoning him, he simply had to go. If her guards wouldn’t remove him, she would—even if it meant at sword point, and she knew just where to find a sword. A massive claymore hung above the hearth in the Greathall; it would do nicely.
    Her resolve firm, her gown fastened, Jillian marched out of her chambers. She was ready to confront him; her body was bristling with indignation. He had no right to be here, and she was just the person to explain that to him. He’d left once before when she’d begged him to stay—he couldn’t arbitrarily decide to come back now. Snatching her hair back, she secured it with a velvet ribbon and made for the Greathall, moving briskly down the long corridor.
    She drew to a sudden halt at the balustrade outside the solar, alarmed by the rumble of masculine voices below.
    “What did your message say, Ramsay?” Jillian heard Grimm ask.
    Their voices floated up, carrying clearly in the open Greathall. The tapestries were currently down for a cleaning, so the words reverberated off the stone walls.
    “Said the lord and his lady would be leaving Caithness and called upon an old debt I owe him. He said he wished me to oversee his demesne while he was not here to do it himself.”
    Jillian peeked surreptitiously over the balustrade and saw Grimm sitting with two men near the main hearth. For an eternal moment she simply couldn’t take her eyes off him. Angrily she jerked her gaze away and studied the newcomers. One of the men was tossed back in his chair as if he owned the keep and half the surrounding countryside. Upon closer scrutiny, Jillian decided he would likely act as if he owned any place he deigned to be. He was a study in black from head to toe: black hair, tanned skin, clad in a length of black wool that was unbroken by even one thread of color. Definitely hulking Highland blood, she concluded. A thin scar extended from his jaw to just below his eye.
    Her eyes drifted over the second man. “Quinn,” she whispered. She hadn’t seen Quinn de Moncreiffe since he’d fostered with Grimm under her father years ago. Tall, golden and breathtakingly handsome, Quinn de Moncreiffe had comforted her on the many occasions Grimm had chased her away. In the years since she’d last seen him he had matured into a towering man with wide shoulders, a trim waist, and long blond hair pulled back in a queue.
    “It would seem just about every man in Scotia and half of England is indebted to Gibraltar St. Clair for one thing or another,” Quinn observed.
    Ramsay Logan folded his hands behind his head andleaned back in his chair, nodding. “Aye. He bailed me out of more than a few tight spaces when I was a younger lad and more prone to thinking with the wee head.”
    “Och, so you think you’ve changed, Logan?” Quinn provoked.
    “Not so much that I couldn’t knock you senseless still, de Moncreiffe,” Ramsay shot back.
    Ramsay Logan, Jillian mused; she’d been right about his bloodline. The Logans were indeed Highlanders. Ramsay certainly looked like one of those savage mountain men whose notoriety was exceeded only by their massive holdings. They were a land-rich clan, owning a large portion of the southern Highlands. Her eyes crept back to Grimm, despite her best intentions. He relaxed in his chair regally, composed as a king and acting as if he had every bit as much right to be there. Her eyes narrowed.
    The corners of Grimm’s mouth twitched faintly. “It’s like old times with the two of you poking at