and warmly greeted his clan. He did not immediately turn toward her, giving her time to gather her wits. Pulling on Noonie’s mane to dismount, she noticed an older man with a warm smile approaching.
“ Fàilte. Ciamar a tha sibh ?” he asked with a smile. Welcome. How are you?
“ Tha gu math, tapadh leibh .” I am fine, thanks.
“ Is mise Niall .” My name is Niall.
“ Is mise Rosalia .”
Niall nodded his head in approval. “Verra good, lass. Here, I will take him for ye,” he said, holding out his hand for Noonie’s reins.
He reminded her so much of their stable master, Duncan. “My thanks, Niall.”
A strong, warm voice murmured from behind. “Niall, his name is Noonie. Make sure he gets a good brushing and give him some extra oats.”
“Aye, my laird.” Niall nodded to Rosalia. “My lady.”
She turned and saw that Ciaran had an irresistible grin upon his face, clearly glad to be home.
“’Tis about time ye returned. As ye see, your walls still stand.”
Rosalia had to will her mouth to close at the sight of a man dressed in a red-and-green-patterned kilt with a flowing gray tunic and shimmering with sweat and masculinity. His golden-brown hair hung well below his shoulders in two braids. He had a strong chiseled jaw and blue eyes—piercing blue eyes. He was… beautiful.
Realizing that she was gaping, the man laughed. “I see ye brought me a gift, my laird. Pray introduce us,” he said silkily.
She heard a grunt and thought it came from Ciaran.
“Lady Rosalia, my youngest brother, Declan.” She detected a hint of censure in his tone.
“And the bonniest of the brothers.” Declan grabbed her hand and bent to kiss it, gazing into her eyes the entire time.
He was good; she would give him that. She had no doubt that many a woman had fallen under Declan’s spell, and she was not foolish enough to be added to the list. The arrogance of beautiful men never ceased to amaze her.
“How can ye bring such a beautiful lass within my sights, brother?” he asked, with an arrogant tone in his voice.
Ciaran was about to speak, but Rosalia held up her hand to stay him. “Empty flattery will get ye naught,” she chided Declan. “I dress in a man’s clothing, my tresses are butchered, and my face is battered and bruised. Donna insult me with your honeyed words.”
Ciaran chuckled.
Declan raised his brow, clearly caught off guard by her response. “I meant nay insult, my lady. I tend to see what is in the heart of a lass and nae what beauty is upon her face,” he simply stated, giving her a slight bow.
She rolled her eyes.
“Pray excuse me,” said Declan, dipping his head slightly and turning on his heel.
Ciaran chuckled. “Ye wounded his pride.”
“My apologies. James is the same. They think because they are beautiful, they can behave as rogues.”
“Nay need for apologies. My brother is a rogue.” Touching the small of her back, he guided her toward a set of stairs. “Come. Let me show ye my home,” he said proudly.
They walked into the enormous interior of the great hall. Corridors shot out in all directions. She would surely lose her way. A staircase swept down and lovely tapestries hung on the wall. A beautiful painted-glass window was displayed at the top of the staircase, and colored prisms danced against the wall. There were two fireplaces in the hall, each adorned with wooden carvings of animals and pine. Long wooden tables and benches graced the floor, and a raised dais boasted several intricately carved chairs.
He watched her intently.
“Your home is truly magnificent.”
He smiled. “My thanks. ’Tis good to be home. Welcome to Glenorchy, Rosalia.”
“I see ye are safe, my brother.” Aiden stood at the top of the staircase, holding a bundle.
Ciaran ran, taking the steps two at a time. “Aisling had the babe,” he spoke joyfully.
Aiden glanced down at his bairn and smiled. “Aye, my son. Two days past. His name is Teàrlach after Aisling’s
“ Fàilte. Ciamar a tha sibh ?” he asked with a smile. Welcome. How are you?
“ Tha gu math, tapadh leibh .” I am fine, thanks.
“ Is mise Niall .” My name is Niall.
“ Is mise Rosalia .”
Niall nodded his head in approval. “Verra good, lass. Here, I will take him for ye,” he said, holding out his hand for Noonie’s reins.
He reminded her so much of their stable master, Duncan. “My thanks, Niall.”
A strong, warm voice murmured from behind. “Niall, his name is Noonie. Make sure he gets a good brushing and give him some extra oats.”
“Aye, my laird.” Niall nodded to Rosalia. “My lady.”
She turned and saw that Ciaran had an irresistible grin upon his face, clearly glad to be home.
“’Tis about time ye returned. As ye see, your walls still stand.”
Rosalia had to will her mouth to close at the sight of a man dressed in a red-and-green-patterned kilt with a flowing gray tunic and shimmering with sweat and masculinity. His golden-brown hair hung well below his shoulders in two braids. He had a strong chiseled jaw and blue eyes—piercing blue eyes. He was… beautiful.
Realizing that she was gaping, the man laughed. “I see ye brought me a gift, my laird. Pray introduce us,” he said silkily.
She heard a grunt and thought it came from Ciaran.
“Lady Rosalia, my youngest brother, Declan.” She detected a hint of censure in his tone.
“And the bonniest of the brothers.” Declan grabbed her hand and bent to kiss it, gazing into her eyes the entire time.
He was good; she would give him that. She had no doubt that many a woman had fallen under Declan’s spell, and she was not foolish enough to be added to the list. The arrogance of beautiful men never ceased to amaze her.
“How can ye bring such a beautiful lass within my sights, brother?” he asked, with an arrogant tone in his voice.
Ciaran was about to speak, but Rosalia held up her hand to stay him. “Empty flattery will get ye naught,” she chided Declan. “I dress in a man’s clothing, my tresses are butchered, and my face is battered and bruised. Donna insult me with your honeyed words.”
Ciaran chuckled.
Declan raised his brow, clearly caught off guard by her response. “I meant nay insult, my lady. I tend to see what is in the heart of a lass and nae what beauty is upon her face,” he simply stated, giving her a slight bow.
She rolled her eyes.
“Pray excuse me,” said Declan, dipping his head slightly and turning on his heel.
Ciaran chuckled. “Ye wounded his pride.”
“My apologies. James is the same. They think because they are beautiful, they can behave as rogues.”
“Nay need for apologies. My brother is a rogue.” Touching the small of her back, he guided her toward a set of stairs. “Come. Let me show ye my home,” he said proudly.
They walked into the enormous interior of the great hall. Corridors shot out in all directions. She would surely lose her way. A staircase swept down and lovely tapestries hung on the wall. A beautiful painted-glass window was displayed at the top of the staircase, and colored prisms danced against the wall. There were two fireplaces in the hall, each adorned with wooden carvings of animals and pine. Long wooden tables and benches graced the floor, and a raised dais boasted several intricately carved chairs.
He watched her intently.
“Your home is truly magnificent.”
He smiled. “My thanks. ’Tis good to be home. Welcome to Glenorchy, Rosalia.”
“I see ye are safe, my brother.” Aiden stood at the top of the staircase, holding a bundle.
Ciaran ran, taking the steps two at a time. “Aisling had the babe,” he spoke joyfully.
Aiden glanced down at his bairn and smiled. “Aye, my son. Two days past. His name is Teàrlach after Aisling’s
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