Highlander’s Quest of Desire (Fates of the Buchan Lassies #2) Read Online Shona Thompson

Categories Genre: Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Fates of the Buchan Lassies Series by Shona Thompson
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Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 84475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
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A ruthless betrayal, an unexpected love, and a hunt for the lost relics of Scotland…

Elspeth Buchan does not believe in happy endings. Mistreated and betrayed in her past, the only thing she hates the most is the lack of adventure. But, her brother wants nothing more than to marry her off to the first boring Laird he finds. Desperate for an escape, she leaves the castle on the first opportunity she gets.
If only she knew what journey would await her…
Laird Bruce Grant is a dreamer in the body of a ravishing Highlander. He was given a purpose when a great bishop entrusted him with the whereabouts of Scotland’s sacred relics. However, he was caught by the English before he could begin his quest.
After breaking out of prison, Bruce and Elspeth team up on a quest that will change the future of Scotland. But their love and desire for each other is unprecedented, and they soon become each other’s greatest treasure.

FULL BOOK START HERE:

Prologue

Dunnottar Castle

The sun was a golden disk in the sky.

A glad wind blew over the cliffs. It set the purple heather dancing in the fields before it meandered over Dunnottar Castle and the small city of tents pitched up in the left field. It followed the raised voices of men competing at spear throwing and children’s laughter as they ran about between the tall legs of their parents.

One child stood apart from the rest. Bruce Grant tugged at the string of his kite. A red diamond against the blue sky, it buffeted against the wind, pulling against his grip. Part of him wanted to let go, let the kite fly away in abandon and be one with the sky, but the other half needed to maintain control; that was what was expected of him. As the heir to Dunnottar Castle, there were certain responsibilities and expectations from his behavior that he could not ignore. They governed his actions and the decisions he made. He could not abandon them in pursuit of his childish happiness.

“Does it hurt?” A small voice piped up by his elbow.

Bruce glanced down to see Elspeth Buchan staring up at the kite with wonder. Her green eyes squinted against the sun, but she didn’t take her eyes off the sailing kite. They were visiting for the spring festival along with a few other families. His father Laird Grant and Elspeth’s father Laird Buchan were close allies. Laird Labert completed the alliance, and it was tradition to host the spring festival alternately to encourage goodwill and recurring connection between clans. This year the Grants were hosting.

Bruce had played host for two tiring days. Now he just wanted to enjoy the solitude with his kite. It was not that he was a quiet child or preferred his own company over playing with friends; he valued both. Those who knew him knew that he would spend all day with his tutors, his friends, and practicing his sword moves in the yard. But then he needed time to absorb it all on his own, keeping his own counsel.

So, though Elspeth’s interruption dug into his solitary time, he was still a host and strove to be a good one.

“The strings?” he asked.

“Aye.”

“Just a little. Do ye want to try?”

“Can I?” she asked, her large eyes growing wider at the prospect of being handed something so precious.

“If ye promise nae to let go.”

“I promise!”

Bruce chuckled at her tiny bobbing figure. Very carefully he handed her the string making sure the buffeting wind didn’t drag away the kite and leave cuts in her fingers. As an extra precaution, he held her hands and guided her.

“Oh, it feels heavy,” she said. “Like my tomcat struggling against my kisses.”

Bruce laughed. Elspeth was much younger than he was, about six years he assumed, but she was enjoyable company. He glanced over his shoulder to see where his parents were. They were standing by the large tent with Elspeth’s parents and the Bishop of Orkney. They caught his eye and smiled indulgently.

“Where’s yer brother?” he asked.

“Domnhall is watching the men throw spears with Leo Sinclair. Did ye know Leo was half-English?”

“Aye,” Bruce nodded, his mouth pressing together in a displeased line. Leo Sinclair was his closest friend, the son of his father’s bonnet laird. People always treated him differently because his mother was English. Bruce didn’t appreciate Leo having to fight constant scrutiny of his loyalty to Scotland because he did not choose who his mother would be. “He’s my friend.”

Elspeth glanced nervously at him. He could see her good cheer evaporating. “I’m sorry. I didnae mean to say he was nae friend of yers. He’s very nice.”

Bruce eased his stern expression. “I ken ye have a good grip on it,” he said, letting go of her hand and changing the subject at the same time.

“Ach, nae!” she squealed. “Take it back!”


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