Read Online Forever Her Champion by Suzan Tisdale - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzan Tisdale
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over the years. It finally got to the point that Rianna quit asking.
In a low, shameful whisper, she told him what had transpired on the eve of her mother’s death. As Ronna lay dying, knowing full well the end was nigh, she told Rianna her father was Lachlan MacAllistair, one of the many cousins to the chief of the MacAllistair clan. He had been a married man when Ronna met him and fell in love. But once he had learned she was with child, he tossed them out of the keep as if they were as disgusting as the contents of a chamber pot. Ronna spent the next years of her life trying to find someone she could love as much as she loved Lachlan. She never did. “So it matters nae how many people I’ve watched die. Me mother finally confessed.”
“It does matter,” he replied. “Ye be headin’ to a keep ye’ve ne’er laid eyes upon, to a man ye’ve ne’er met, in the hopes he’ll claim ye after all these many years.”
Although he was speaking the truth, it did nothing to ease the ache in her heart. “Ye forget that I have met him.”
A sorrowful sigh passed his lips. “Ye only think ye’ve met him. What if that be nae true?”
“It matters nae. He be me father. I cannae explain how I know it but I do.” She took in a deep breath, knowing full well she sounded daft. “My heart tells me there is a good chance he too has changed after all these years. He might regret his decision to toss us aside.” ’Twas the one thing she’d been holding on to for the past year. The one thing that kept her moving forward on her quest to find him.
Aiden took a bite of the dried beef. “It could also be he has a dozen other cast-off children waitin’ for his blessin’ and his last name. Or he could be remarried five times over, with dozens of legitimate children who will fight you to the bitter end. Or he could be dead.”
“Do ye nae think I have nae thought of that before?” she asked as she poked a stick at the fire.
“Apparently ye have nae thought it enough,” he replied, taking another bite. “Or ye would nae be out here in the middle of nowhere with a man who is all but a stranger to ye.”
I have fought my way across Scotland for the past year. I’ll no stop now, when I be only a few short days away from Lachlan MacAllistair.
“I will nae give up,” she told him pointedly. “I do nae care if he wants me or no’. I want to see the man who fathered me.”
* * *
W hen he saw the hurt in her eyes, guilt bubbled to the surface. It was a long buried emotion and one he could ill afford to feel. Guilt, compassion, devotion toward another being were the things that could get a man killed. Still, try as he might, he could not help but feel sorry for the young woman, as well as question her soundness of mind. Why on earth would she want to see a man who had caused her so much pain and anguish? He’d rather be gutted than ever lay eyes on his own father again.
Chances were good that this Lachlan MacAllistair fellow wanted nothing to do with her. Why would she pursue it, knowing that?
“I will nae take ye,” he told her. The last thing he wanted was to witness her being turned away by the man who was supposedly her father. Or, worse yet, learn her mother had lied on her deathbed.
“But ye promised!” she argued.
“Ye can nae hold me to somethin’ I said whilst drunk, lass.”
Shooting to her feet, she glared at him. “’Twas nae a promise ye made whilst drunk.”
A memory from childhood rushed to the front of his mind. That cold day when she’d come to tell him they were moving again. The promise he had made to always be her champion and to someday help her find her father. “Ye cannae be serious.”
With her hands balled into fists, resting on her hips, she looked mad enough to bite through his sword. “I am. Ye made a promise and I mean to see that ye keep it.”
Slowly, he set the dried beef aside, wiped his hands on his mud-caked trews and looked up at her. “I will do nae such
In a low, shameful whisper, she told him what had transpired on the eve of her mother’s death. As Ronna lay dying, knowing full well the end was nigh, she told Rianna her father was Lachlan MacAllistair, one of the many cousins to the chief of the MacAllistair clan. He had been a married man when Ronna met him and fell in love. But once he had learned she was with child, he tossed them out of the keep as if they were as disgusting as the contents of a chamber pot. Ronna spent the next years of her life trying to find someone she could love as much as she loved Lachlan. She never did. “So it matters nae how many people I’ve watched die. Me mother finally confessed.”
“It does matter,” he replied. “Ye be headin’ to a keep ye’ve ne’er laid eyes upon, to a man ye’ve ne’er met, in the hopes he’ll claim ye after all these many years.”
Although he was speaking the truth, it did nothing to ease the ache in her heart. “Ye forget that I have met him.”
A sorrowful sigh passed his lips. “Ye only think ye’ve met him. What if that be nae true?”
“It matters nae. He be me father. I cannae explain how I know it but I do.” She took in a deep breath, knowing full well she sounded daft. “My heart tells me there is a good chance he too has changed after all these years. He might regret his decision to toss us aside.” ’Twas the one thing she’d been holding on to for the past year. The one thing that kept her moving forward on her quest to find him.
Aiden took a bite of the dried beef. “It could also be he has a dozen other cast-off children waitin’ for his blessin’ and his last name. Or he could be remarried five times over, with dozens of legitimate children who will fight you to the bitter end. Or he could be dead.”
“Do ye nae think I have nae thought of that before?” she asked as she poked a stick at the fire.
“Apparently ye have nae thought it enough,” he replied, taking another bite. “Or ye would nae be out here in the middle of nowhere with a man who is all but a stranger to ye.”
I have fought my way across Scotland for the past year. I’ll no stop now, when I be only a few short days away from Lachlan MacAllistair.
“I will nae give up,” she told him pointedly. “I do nae care if he wants me or no’. I want to see the man who fathered me.”
* * *
W hen he saw the hurt in her eyes, guilt bubbled to the surface. It was a long buried emotion and one he could ill afford to feel. Guilt, compassion, devotion toward another being were the things that could get a man killed. Still, try as he might, he could not help but feel sorry for the young woman, as well as question her soundness of mind. Why on earth would she want to see a man who had caused her so much pain and anguish? He’d rather be gutted than ever lay eyes on his own father again.
Chances were good that this Lachlan MacAllistair fellow wanted nothing to do with her. Why would she pursue it, knowing that?
“I will nae take ye,” he told her. The last thing he wanted was to witness her being turned away by the man who was supposedly her father. Or, worse yet, learn her mother had lied on her deathbed.
“But ye promised!” she argued.
“Ye can nae hold me to somethin’ I said whilst drunk, lass.”
Shooting to her feet, she glared at him. “’Twas nae a promise ye made whilst drunk.”
A memory from childhood rushed to the front of his mind. That cold day when she’d come to tell him they were moving again. The promise he had made to always be her champion and to someday help her find her father. “Ye cannae be serious.”
With her hands balled into fists, resting on her hips, she looked mad enough to bite through his sword. “I am. Ye made a promise and I mean to see that ye keep it.”
Slowly, he set the dried beef aside, wiped his hands on his mud-caked trews and looked up at her. “I will do nae such
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