In the Arms of a Highland Warrior (Highland Myths Trilogy #1) Read Online Donna Fletcher

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Highland Myths Trilogy Series by Donna Fletcher
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Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
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The kitchen was busy, all there working at a frenzied pace.

“My lady,” Cora, one of the cooks, said with a bob of her head.

Tavia stepped close to Cora to whisper, “Was Fia fed?”

Cora’s eyes went wide. “Lord Bhric and his men have kept us busy. I did not know men could eat and drink so much.”

Tavia scooped up a basket and filled it with food, then grabbed a small jug of warm apple cider. And before anyone could offer her any help, she left the kitchen and headed for the dungeon.

The ache in Tavia’s leg warned her to take the curving stairs down to the dungeon slowly. They were damp and often slippery.

“Fia,” she called out as she neared the bottom and grew worried when she saw no candle glowing in the one occupied cell out of the three the dungeon contained.

The torch in the bracer on the wall wasn’t sufficient to light the inside of the cells but it gave Tavia enough light to see where she stepped.

“I am here, Tavia,” a woman’s voice responded.

Tavia was relieved seeing a figure emerge from the dark depths of the cell and walk to the metal bars of the cell door. Her eyes lighted when she spotted the jug and Tavia quickly handed it to her.

“I have neglected to look after you,” Tavia said, feeling guilty.

“Nonsense,” Fia said after taking a substantial swallow of cider from the jug. “You have done well by me, sneaking down here with food and drink against your father’s orders. “You are a brave woman.”

“Nowhere near as brave as you,” Tavia said. “I cannot imagine the horror of being called a demon or witch with calls to be burned at the stake when you have done nothing wrong.”

“Many would not agree with you once it was learned that I cut open a human heart,” Fia said and eagerly took the meat pie Tavia passed through the bars to her.

“You are a healer and curious and brave to attempt such a thing to gain knowledge, knowing if caught you surely would be condemned.”

“And you are courageous in trusting my word when none do,” Fia said and fetched the small bench in her cell to sit by the iron-barred door and talk with Tavia as she ate.

Tavia fetched a bench as well and sat to enjoy her meat pie as she talked with Fia.

“Your husband has arrived,” Fia said.

Tavia was not surprised that Fia knew Bhric was here. The woman had a knowing about things without being told and was able to see things before they happened. It frightened most people, thinking it the devil’s doing, but having come to know Fia in the few weeks she had been held prisoner here, Tavia had come to understand that she was a good woman… different but good.

“He is a powerful man and fears little.” Fia grew silent, staring off, then spoke. “He respects strength, show him nothing less.”

Tavia asked about her earlier thought. “Does fear birth courage?”

Fia smiled. “Fear is part of living as is joy, sadness, laughter, pain, tears, love. Living is what births courage. Do not be afraid to live, Tavia. Allow yourself to experience it all and you will live a good, courageous life.”

“But do I have the strength to do that?” Tavia asked more of herself than Fia.

“You will never know if you don’t try,” Fia warned.

Bhric had delayed long enough in speaking with his wife. He did not plan to talk long with her. He would have his say and let her be until… he was still trying to make sense of why his mother had chosen Tavia to be his wife. He had planned on leaving in a day’s time, wanting to get home and begin a life that had been planned for him and one he had been trained for but did not know if he wanted. Meeting Tavia made him question even more what was right for him. Was he duty bound to remain here on this soil his grandfather had insisted he be born on? Did he lead a clan that was foreign to him yet in his blood? Or did he return to the life he knew well, loved, and missed?

He climbed the stairs to her bedchamber wanting done with this chore. He did not bother to announce his entrance with a rap on the door since she was his wife and there would be no door that would keep him from entering wherever she may be.

He swung the door open ready to speak, his mouth open, staring at an empty room. He got annoyed. If she was well enough to leave her bed, then why had she not joined him for supper?

He took the stairs down two at a time, his annoyance growing with each step. Was she purposely avoiding him? Did she think not to consider her own husband?


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