Page 5 of Forge of the Highlander’s Destiny

“ W e need to take a rest. Just for a bit,” Arya complained after they had ridden several hours, and the afternoon sun was high in the sky. They were damp with sweat even though the air was cool.

“Fine, then,” he agreed. His own arse was sore from riding, but he wanted to get to his castle and leave all the fears of death and execution behind. Arya slowed the horse at the edge of a river, and he jumped down, reaching up to help her jump down as well.

When her feet finally touched ground, she waved her head about to get her flowing hair out of her eyes, and Cohen stood still, frozen to the spot.

It was the first time he’d seen the lass in the full light of day.

He had seen her in shadows, torchlight, and candlelight, but under the light of the sun, she was absolutely mesmerizing.

She made his breath catch in his chest, and for a few seconds, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

His hands were on her waist, and he was looking down into her bright-blue eyes.

Her skin had a lovely pearly glow, and her lips were a deep red.

His eyes glanced at them, noting how soft they looked.

“Cohen. Are ye well? Ye look as though ye are afraid of me,” she said with a laugh, and Cohen cleared his throat, pulling away.

“Forgive me. Too fatigued, I think,” he mumbled, wishing to God that he hadn’t made himself look like such an idiot. He had seen bonnie lasses before, but as he leaned down to the river side to take up water in his hands to drink, he knew that he’d never seen any as beautiful as her.

Oddly though, tales of Laird Muir’s daughter’s beauty had not spread far and wide as it should have. Perhaps it was because the Laird had other more nefarious plans for his daughter’s future.

He washed his face and took another drink, trying to rebalance himself after acting like a complete fool. When he stood again, Arya was twisting her long, black curls into a thick braid over her shoulder. Her face was gleaming from the river, and she smiled at him.

“Is it nae a beautiful thing to be free?” Her happiness cheered him, and his heart warmed with affection when he watched her turn to her horse and rub its velvet nose and lead it to water.

“Here, Lass. Drink. Rest. Just for a moment,” she said to the horse in a gentle tone.

“Aye, ‘tis a beautiful thing to be free, but it is nae certain yet,” he said finally, wanting to burst the strange, warm bubble that had been created by her in the last few moments. It made everything worse. She would leave him soon anyway, and that’s what he wanted and needed.

For her to go and leave him in peace to focus on the matter at hand.

This beautiful, cheery woman was far too distracting.

“Ye must believe, Cohen, or else it may nae come true.” She smiled at him before she lifted herself on the horse again. Watching him with an amused eye, she said, “Are ye nae coming? I thought we had to get to yer castle as soon as possible?”

“Aye, so we do,” he grumbled, and jumped up after her, not sure what to do with the happy, strong lass who’d forcibly joined his escape from Muir Castle.

They rode for another few hours until they finally arrived at Sinclair Castle, the gray stone looming up as they got close. It was a beautiful sight to see, and Cohen could feel himself relaxing.

Home. Finally. Everything can be sorted now that we are home. Now that I am home, he corrected.

He hailed the guards as he approached, and when he jumped down, the gates were instantly opened.

“Me Laird!” the first guard called. “We thought ye were dead!”

Cohen shook his head and put a finger to his lips. “Ye must keep this to as few people as possible, Lad. There is someone who betrayed me, and we need to find out who it is. Where is Malcolm?”

The young man looked surprised, and he stuttered, “Inside, Me Laird. In the study.”

“Good. Stay in yer place.” He turned to help Arya from her perch, but she jumped down on her own.

He wondered if it was because of what had happened before, when he’d gaped at her like an idiot, but deep down, he was grateful.

The lass was far too distracting, and now that he was home, he had to start thinking about who the traitor in his clan could be.

“Come with me,” he said, urging her along as they stepped across the small bridge and inside the passageway of the main gate.

“Sinclair Castle is formidable,” she said in awe. “Nearly two times bigger than Muir Castle, I think.”

“Aye, perhaps, with a more comfortable dungeon as well.”

He was rewarded with a secret smile that he could see out of the corner of his eye.

When he entered the hall, his man-of-arms, Malcolm approached him. “Me Laird!” He rushed to him and clapped him in a tight embrace. “We are so glad to have ye back! But what’s happened? Where have ye been?”

Cohen scowled. “All will be told in due time, my friend. Daenae let word of me return spread too far too fast. Someone has betrayed me. Let the men nae speak of me return to the villages but let me go to me chamber.”

“Aye, it shall be done, but who is this?” Malcolm asked, his brown eyes blinking in confusion at Arya.

He could very well understand the man’s confusion when looking at such a beautiful lass.

“She will stay in the chamber next to mine. Just for safety until she can move on to her own place.” He nodded at a silent Arya, and then he turned to the stairs and grasped her elbow.

“Send a servant to us, Malcolm, with food and hot water for bathing, and then speak nay more of it. There will be nay feast of return. Nae yet.”

“And Sienna, Me Laird? What shall I tell her?’

“She is nae coming for a few days yet. We will let her ken when she arrives. Now go, keep the men in ignorance as best ye can. And keep yer eyes open for anythin’ strange. Someone is a traitor.”

Malcolm nodded solemnly at his Laird’s word and was off. Cohen kept his grip on Arya’s elbow. “Come with me, Lass. I will show ye to a chamber. Ye will be comfortable enough.”

“I should thank ye,” she said softly. “Ye have done me a kindness.”

“As ye have done for me,” he said, uncomfortable with her soft gratitude. It was far more easier to swallow when she was using sarcasm to get her point across.

They walked up the wide stone steps of his castle to the first floor.

He paused in front of one of the doors in the long, torch-lit passageway.

“This is yers, Lass. A servant will come and help ye with whatever ye need. I am just there. Next door.” He pointed to his dark, oaken doorway, and Arya nodded.

“Aye. Next door. Good night to ye.” She bobbed a curtsy, but Cohen stayed her with his hands on her shoulders.

“Nay need to curtsy for me, Lass. Ye saved my life. I cannae thank ye enough.” Now that he was back in his home again feeling warm, happy, and somewhat safe, his gratitude was overwhelming. He was about to be bathed, fed, and could sleep in his own bed. That could compare with nothing.

Then, before his better sense took hold of him, he lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across the back of it. “Thank ye, from the bottom of me heart, Lass. Ye have changed everything.”

He caught her earnest blue eyes again in his gaze, and she nodded to him. Her lovely lips were parted as she took in a surprised breath.

“I must also thank ye. It is the first night I shall have where I daenae have to worry about being woke in the night to be taken to the dungeon.” With another forbidden curtsy, she left him, and Cohen stood for a second longer, an ache in his chest.

He could thank her all he wanted, for she had saved his life, but now she was also free from the torture she had endured.

What was worse? An impending clean death or a life full of abuse?

He wasn’t sure. He shook his head and entered his chamber, shutting the door behind him and sighing with contentment at the mere fact of being home and being warmer than he had been in days.

The fire was lit, as it always was in the winter to keep all the chambers warm.

He didn’t know who had betrayed him or what was going to happen next, but one thing was certain in that moment. He was home, and now, he had a chance to find out who the traitor was and get his vengeance.

“Free. Ye are free, Lass,” Arya whispered to herself once she shut the door of the chamber behind her. “Finally.”

It still felt precarious, like her father could still storm inside her chamber and drag her down to the dungeons as he had done on so many occasions, but she hoped it would not be this time.

Something about it felt different, and it was partly to do with the fact that Cohen Kirk was there.

She was in the Laird of Sinclair’s Castle, and she could finally sleep in peace.

She walked into the chamber and sat on the bed, still too surprised that she was there.

There would be no more hard stone floor to sleep on or frozen breezes to contend with.

A merry fire was crackling in the hearth, and there would soon be food and a bath.

It would be the perfect rest after such an ordeal.

She hadn’t realized just how tired she was until a servant appeared a half an hour later with a tray of warm food and a few buckets of hot water.

After laying the tray on a small table near the fire, the servant poured the water into the tub and left it steaming, placing a hunk of soap nearby.

Arya thanked her and then wondered what she would do first: eat or bathe.

She decided on both at once and took up the bread and cheese and slid into the warm, wonderful bath, closing her eyes as she chewed and enjoyed the scent of steaming bathwater and soap.

This is Heaven. True freedom.

She wondered briefly what Cohen’s men must think of him returning out of the blue with a strange woman who was to take a guest chamber and not join the servant’s quarters. It made no sense at all.