Page 16 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance (Highland Revenge Trilogy #3)

Torrance spotted her as soon as he returned to the Great Hall.

Her beauty continued to amaze him. He had watched her a couple of times as she slept, unable to sleep himself.

She purred softly now and again in her sleep and would snuggle against him, not that she realized it.

He liked it when she rested against him. It soothed him.

He pushed the thought from his mind and made his way through the Great Hall, cleaned quickly of the battle, to the dais. He was about to wake Esme with sharp words but stopped.

Instead, he placed his hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. “Esme, wake, we take our leave now.”

She opened her eyes and stretched her shoulders back. “I fell asleep.”

“Aye. It has been an exhausting day,” he said.

“It has been, and I am glad to be going home,” Esme said and realized her words. Never would she have thought she would ever utter those words and yet… she had. But then something had changed… her husband.

She took his hand, he offered her, and was surprised when he stopped by a table, snatched up her cloak and slipped it over her shoulders. Then he took hold of her hand again and she walked with him out of the keep to their waiting horses.

“You will ride with me,” he announced when they reached his stallion.

She tilted her head in question.

“You are tired. You can rest in my arms,” he said with a hint of concern.

He lifted her onto his horse, then mounted, shifting her until she rested comfortably against him.

Increasingly, she suspected her suspicions were proving true.

Torrance would never be this considerate to her and she would never feel so comfortable or safe in his arms as she felt at that moment.

Soon. Very soon, she would need to confront him…

Ryland. And see what he was up to. For now, she would enjoy his arms and warmth.

She laid her head on his chest and the horse barely moved when she fell asleep.

Esme sat in her bedchamber in thought. Torrance had ordered her to her own bedchamber to sleep tonight, and she understood why.

He had to be exhausted after today. Upon their arrival home he had called for Brack, but to her surprise it wasn’t his solar they went to talk.

He walked through the village detailing to Brack what had happened at Clen Rennoch and had instructed him to increase the clan’s sentinels.

Gossip spread quickly about the incident, but it was that Torrance hadn’t condemned Chieftain Stuart to a horrible death that shocked everyone the most.

For Esme, it helped to further confirm what she thought, that Ryland, for some reason, had assumed Torrance’s identity.

She dropped down on her bed with a heavy sigh. She wished she had the courage to confront Ryland but there was still a small part of her that worried she could be wrong. And if she was, that could prove disastrous for her.

Battle did change some men. She had heard her da speak of it. How some of his warriors could fight no more and how some were anxious for more battles. Her da, himself, had grown battle-worn and it was one of the reasons he had agreed to the proposal that she become Torrance’s wife.

She recalled his words to her when he told her the marriage arrangement had been made.

“I have fought endlessly and with courage for our clan. It is time for you to do your share, your duty, and with courage.”

The only problem was that her da didn’t have to battle every day whereas she had realized on her wedding day that it would be a daily battle to survive her husband.

It didn’t take her long to discover that no matter what she did, she would never please him.

Torrance would always find fault with her and that he actually enjoyed berating her.

Never once had he ever praised her or had come to her defense. Not like he did today.

She sat up, another memory of today popping into her head… the old woman.

What was it, she had said? The old woman’s voice came back to her as clearly as if she was there with her in the room.

“He searches. He seeks answers long buried beneath blood and vengeance. What he seeks lies two days’ ride from Clan Glencairn. But he cannot go alone… you must go with him, if secrets are to be revealed.”

Esme bounced off the bed. She had forgotten to tell Torrance about it. Without thinking over the wisdom of such a sudden decision, she hurried out of the room to her husband’s bedchamber eager to tell him. But each step toward his bedchamber chipped away at her certainty.

The urgency that had driven Esme from her own chamber faltered as she neared his door, doubt slipping in like a cold draft. What was she doing? He had commanded her to remain in her bedchamber tonight, and yet here she was, disobeying him.

Foolish , she scolded herself. And yet, the old woman’s voice had echoed so clearly in her head, chilling her more than the stone floor beneath her bare feet.

She stopped at the door, raised her hand, and with her knuckles hovering mid-air, her breath caught. She could still turn back. Pretend she’d never left her room and say nothing of riddles or secrets or what the old woman had warned. But what if the woman had spoken the truth?

Esme made the decision quickly before her courage took flight and rapped on the door.

“Did I not make myself clear that I did not want to be disturbed tonight?” Torrance bellowed.

Esme cringed. This was a mistake, a terrible mistake, but since she already made it, she forged ahead.

“It is I, my lord, your wife,” she called out bravely.

“I ordered you to remain in your bedchamber tonight,” he said, his voice raised with annoyance.

Briefly, she thought to abandon her ill-thought plan, but determination had her, answering, “I have something important to tell you.”

“It had better be very important,” he cautioned. “Enter.”

With her heart pounding fast, she pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit room.

She let her eyes adjust, the flames from the hearth casting shadows around the room.

Not seeing him by the hearth, her glance shifted to the bed.

He lay there, the blankets bunched at his waist, his chest bare, one arm propped behind his head, and his muscles taut and gleaming gold in the firelight.

His hair was tousled, but his eyes were clear, fixed on her.

A strange tingle settled over her, sending a shiver through her.

“Say what you have to say then begone,” he ordered sternly.

She approached the bed, stopping at the foot of it. “It happened at Clan Rennoch when you went to speak with Stuart. A woman approached me, an old woman with long silver hair and draped in dark wool. Perhaps you saw her?”

He shook his head. “Nay, I don’t recall seeing such a woman.”

Esme continued. “She said something strange. That you’re searching for answers long buried in blood and vengeance. And that what you seek lies two days’ ride from Clan Glencairn. But she said that you cannot go alone. I must go with you.”

Torrance stared at her, unmoving. “And only now does this come to mind?”

“Forgive me, my lord, I forgot,” she said, reverting to her usual apologetic way when speaking with him. “Everything happened so fast. It only came back to me when I was lying in bed.”

Torrance sat up. “And that was all she said?”

“Aye,” she said, rubbing her arms, the stone floor chilling her bare feet and sending the cold seeping through her body.

He tossed the covers back some. “Get under the blankets, you’re shivering.”

Esme didn’t hesitate, the chill crawling deeper inside her. She got in bed, sitting up beside him.

He threw the blankets over her. “Do you think I search for something, Esme?”

If you’re Ryland, you might.

She let that thought linger in her mind as she said, “I don’t know, though I believe that something weighs heavily upon you since you returned from warring with Clan MacLeish.”

He kept his eyes focused on her. “Battle can do that.”

“Can battle change a man?”

“Aye,” he said, without hesitation. “Some men carry it like a second skin. Some grow quiet. Others hungrier for blood. Some don’t make it home at all… not truly.”

“Did it change you?” she probed, hoping to find out more that proved it wasn’t Torrance who returned home to her.

His eyes narrowed and he reached out and grabbed hold of her chin. “You tell me, wife. Have I changed?”

The way he squeezed her chin, the familiar challenge in his tone when he set her up to fail no matter how she responded to him, sent a fright through her. This was the Torrance she knew, and her response came easily.

“Nay, my lord, you are who you have always been.”

“And what have I always been?”

The glint in his eyes was familiar and she couldn’t believe what a fool she had been believing him other than who he was, an evil man who spun his web and captured the innocent and foolish in it so he could devour them.

“You hesitate?” he snapped.

“Nay, my lord, you have always been a good husband, a wise leader, and the bravest of warriors.”

“If that is so, then why did one of my own men betray me, try to kill me, and told me that he may have failed but the next one wouldn’t?”