Page 17 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance (Highland Revenge Trilogy #3)

T orrance detangled himself from his wife, knowing how dangerous it would be for him to remain wrapped around her.

The scent of her alone tempted him. A scent he had begun to grow familiar with and found far too intoxicating.

There was a touch of the woods to her, pine and earth, and a flowery scent, but it was her own unique womanly scent that tempted him the most.

After hurrying to dress, he left the room before temptation won out.

It was early, the keep quiet, though the kitchen fires were probably being lit.

The day would start soon enough, demand on his time and decisions to be made would follow him throughout the day.

He needed this time alone to clear his head, to think.

He reminded himself that time was not on his side, but then his task was not an easy one to accomplish.

He swung his cloak over his shoulders and stepped outside.

A light snow had fallen, coating the ground, and left a dusting on the tree branches and thatched roofs.

Early snowfalls warned of a cold winter and days on end stuck in the keep.

An image of Esme naked in his arms in bed was the first thing that came to mind.

Quick steps took him down the keep’s stairs as he shook his head at his straying thoughts.

The day was just breaking, cloudy, not a speck of the sun to be seen.

The moody weather reflexed his own temperament.

He was annoyed with himself for ordering her into his bed last night, but how could he leave her standing barefoot on the cold floor, shivering.

That wasn’t the true reason for his annoyance.

It was that he had confided in her about the attempt on his life.

He hadn’t planned on involving her in it, but there was kindness to Esme, a true kindness that made it easy to trust her—and far too easy to talk with her.

So, he had shared the betrayal with her, and it had started an interesting and unexpectedly helpful conversation that lasted well into the night and had her falling asleep beside him.

He thought back on their conversation as he walked through the quiet village.

“When was this?” she asked.

“During the battle with Clan MacLeish.”

“And you are certain it was one of your own and not a mercenary for hire?” she asked, disbelief clear in her wide eyes.

“Without a doubt,” he said without hesitation.

“Why would one of your own men be so foolish to betray you?”

“I have repeatedly asked myself the very same. What hadn’t I seen? What had I missed? Had there been signs I ignored?”

“Had he fought beside you for years?” she asked. “Did you trust him?”

“As much as I could trust anyone,” he scoffed. “I am not foolish enough to think that the promise of coins cannot sway a man’s loyalty. But the dire consequences of such a foolhardy decision are something my warriors have seen, and it has kept them fearful enough not to betray me.”

Her look was puzzled. “But this one had no such fear, which means something else had driven him, something far more powerful.”

A dog’s bark brought him back to the present. He had been impressed that she hadn’t offered useless reassurances or rushed to false outrage to placate him. She listened intently and offered her own thoughts.

Her words about it being something far more powerful than fear of him had brought one word to mind… revenge. But who didn’t want revenge against Torrance, his evil deeds left many with a bitter, vengeful taste.

His thoughts drifted back to Esme and how she had dropped back on the pillow to continue to talk with him.

She had fallen asleep, and he had let her.

He hadn’t wanted her to leave. He wanted her there beside him.

And when she turned and snuggled against him, her breath soft against his skin, he had wrapped his arm around her and fallen into a peaceful sleep.

He shook away the memory as he moved through the village with a warrior’s gait, his thoughts tangled. As much as he wanted to ignore the memory, he could still feel the ghost of her touch, and it unsettled him.

Had he been wise in confiding in her? Had she noticed the change in him? Was she far more dangerous to the plan than he expected? He shook his head. It wasn’t her. It was him and the feelings he always had for her that were now surfacing.

That realization sat heavier than expected in his chest, and he muttered a curse under his breath. Emotions made men careless. And careless men ended up dead.

A thought he needed to consider regarding the old woman Esme had told him about. It could be a trap he’d be walking into if he went in search of answers that the old woman claimed was buried in blood and vengeance.

Whose blood? Whose vengeance?

Would he find the answers? Or did death wait not only for him but Esme as well? The old woman having insisted that he’d find no answers without his wife.

Did he take the chance and go? Or did he have a choice?

He heard the crunch of footfalls not far behind him. His thoughts might be chaotic, but he kept his senses alert.

“Do not tell me that you bring me a problem before the day begins,” Torrance said without turning when Brack got close enough.

Footfalls were as familiar to Torrance as were voices. Each were unique and allowed him to know who approached without having to look. Brack’s thick body gave him a strong gait that was easily recognizable in his demanding footfalls.

“Nay, my lord, I but worried there was a problem when I spotted you walking through the village so early. Has your wife disappointed you that you rush from your bed?”

Torrance’s head snapped quickly to the side to glare at Brack. “How is that your concern?”

“It would be my duty to find you another wife if Lady Esme does not satisfy you, and I would want to begin the search sooner rather than later, if it should prove to be necessary.”

Torrance’s glare threatened. “You will conduct no such search, Brack.”

“As you say, my lord.” Brack said with a nod of his head. “Then it is something else that troubles you?”

Torrance turned his gaze ahead once more. “Esme told me of an old woman, long silver hair, draped in dark garments, who approached her and spoke of things no stranger should know.”

Brack stiffened beside him. “And you believe this old hag?”

“I believe there may be something worth discovering. The woman spoke of blood and vengeance buried in the past... and that I’d find no answers without Esme.”

Brack let out a heavy snort. “You see the trap then, my lord. You speak of blood and vengeance and think not that it could be your own?”

Torrance didn’t hide his annoyance. “It could be. But it could also prove beneficial. I will not know if I don’t go and see for myself.”

Brack wasted no time with hesitation. “And, of course, this old woman, you didn’t see, insisted you take Lady Esme with you. Is that so she can see her plan carried out… you dead.”

“That’s a bold accusation,” Torrance snapped sharply.

“Lady Esme is not happy here. She never has been,” Brack pressed. “She praises you out of duty but has no true words of kindness for you. She watches you like she waits for something to break. There is no warmth in her toward you, only cold civility.”

Torrance’s jaw tensed. “I am not interested in her trust, only her obedience.”

“And is she only interested in her freedom that a dead husband would bring her?”

“She knows better than to defy me, betray me,” Torrance admonished, or did she?

Brack scowled. “Or does she obey so she can dig and find your weakness and help your enemies.”

“She is far too fearful of me to do anything so foolish,” Torrance said, having seen such fear in her eyes. “I don’t believe she’s behind this. I’ve seen betrayal before, Brack. She doesn’t wear its face.”

Brack folded his arms across his chest. “So, you go chasing the whispers of an old woman who may not even exist and risk your life on the word of a wife who barely tolerates you?”

“I go,” Torrance said, “because something about this… reeks of truth. And I’ve experienced enough to know when a stench should not be ignored.”

Brack muttered under his breath, then looked him squarely in the eye. “Then I go with you.”

“Nay,” Torrance said. “You stay here and keep the clan safe. I will take Esme with me along with a contingent of men, since I am not foolish enough to travel without protection.”

“I am not comfortable with this,” Brack insisted.

“I must go. I need to know what this is before it grows teeth. I need to know what part Esme plays in it, if any.”

“And if it is a trap?”

“Then I will find out who it is that wants me dead.”

Brack held his gaze, reluctant but loyal to the last. “Then you will need men to travel ahead and to trail you to prevent any surprises.”

“No mercenaries. They can be bought too easily,” Torrance warned.

“Aye, my thinking as well. I will send trusted men along with you.”

“See it done,” Torrance commanded as he walked off.

Torrance sat back in the chair on the dais, his goblet barely touched, his gaze drifting toward Esme where she sat beside him, listening politely to the servant who asked if there was any more food or drink, she might want.

His wife wore a pleasant smile throughout the exchange and all through breakfast. She had a pleasantness to her, a grace that could not be feigned.

Brack had warned him not to trust her. Had said she cared nothing for him, wanted only her freedom.

But watching her now, her gentle nods, the way she set her tankard down so she could better listen to the servant made it difficult to believe Brack was right.

Besides, the way she responded to his intimate touches told a completely different story.

Unless, how he felt for her, always felt for her, had blinded him.

He hadn’t realized how closely he’d been watching her until a strange stillness came over her. Her smile faded, her brow drew tight, and the color drained from her face so swiftly it jolted him upright.