Free The Scottish Bride by Catherine Coulter Page B

storm rattled me. But it’s peaceful now, so I won’t get scared.”
    Tysen nodded, breathed in the sweet, warm evening air. It was incredible here. He hadn’t thought once about writing a sermon, which was odd of him.
    It was then that Tysen looked up to see a man on horseback coming toward them. Another neighbor?
    But when the man was close enough, Tysen felt himself drawing up. It was Erickson MacPhail, he knew it, not a single doubt. The confidence and arrogance in his very posture indicated a man who took what he wanted and damned the consequences and the wishes of anyone who chanced to cross him. Tysen took Meggie’s hand and theywaited, father and daughter standing side by side, until the man dismounted and left his horse to graze on the clusters of knicker weed sticking out of clumps of black rocks.
    â€œI heard the castle had a fine new Englishman in residence,” the man called out, striding toward them, tapping his riding crop against his Hessian boot. Then he noticed Meggie. “I had not heard,” he added slowly, his voice thoughtful now, not so belligerent, “that the Englishman had a daughter.”
    â€œI am Lord Barthwick,” Tysen said, surprised at himself for the show of formality, the touch of arrogance in his own voice. “This is my daughter, Meggie.”
    â€œI am Erickson MacPhail, Laird MacPhail, of Hyson’s Manor. I am pleased to meet you, my lord, and you, little miss.” He bowed to both of them, then straightened and looked out over the water. He breathed in deeply, his chest expanding. “This has long been one of my favorite look-outs. So many porpoises. As a boy I swam with them.”
    â€œReally?” Meggie stepped away from her father, stepped toward this unknown man. “You really swam with them? What happened? Did they hold you underwater? Flatten you?”
    Erickson MacPhail smiled down at her, and it was a charming smile, open and friendly. “Oh, no. Porpoises are some of God’s friendliest creatures. They welcome you, nudge you to play, stay with you.”
    â€œOh, Papa,” Meggie said, turning back to her father, her eyes shining, “I should love to do that. May we? To-morrow, perhaps, if it is warm and sunny?”
    â€œThe water is always cold,” Erickson said, grinning from her to Tysen. “You cannot stay in for very long or you will turn blue.”
    â€œTen minutes, Papa? You taught me how to swim. It can’t be colder than the Channel, can it?”
    â€œPossibly,” Tysen said, and felt something quite fresh and spontaneous blossom inside him. “Swimming with porpoises,” he said. “I think I should like that as well.”
    â€œI saw you standing here and supposed you must be the new baron.”
    â€œYes,” Tysen said easily, eyeing the man who was constantly trying to catch Mary Rose alone and maul her. What sort of a man swam with porpoises, then tried to ravish a young lady? He was well made, fine-looking, he thought objectively. And dishonorable? He would know soon enough. “Meggie, why don’t you go down to the beach and stick your fingers in the water? See how cold it is.”
    Meggie, excitement in every skipping step, was off.
    â€œPay attention to the path,” Erickson MacPhail called after her. “It’s an easy winding downward, but there are some sharp points.”
    Meggie waved but didn’t slow. “If she takes a spill,” he said, “she won’t be hurt, just scratched a bit. You are an Englishman. Everyone has heard about it, but I wished to see for myself.”
    Tysen was watching Meggie’s descent. He saw her skirt catch on a rock, pull her over, then he heard her laughter, sweet and clear in the evening air.
    â€œI am just a man,” Tysen said finally, looking back at the man who was probably several years younger than he was. Yes, Erickson MacPhail was handsome, also very well dressed. But