Page 31 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance (Highland Revenge Trilogy #3)

“ T hat is never going to happen,” Torrance said, his voice as ridged as iron. “My wife will not meet with her alone.”

Silence swept like a cold wind through the hall, shivering everyone.

Breann stiffened where she stood, her glance dropping to the floor and Patrick wisely held his tongue.

Esme lowered her gaze as well, though she could feel the heat of Torrance’s stare pressing down on her.

She didn’t speak. Not yet. Not here in front of others to Torrance, a man she could not openly defy.

Alone she could discuss the matter with Ryland, though she didn’t think his response would be much different.

“You will not go alone, and I will hear no more about it,” Torrance said, his voice sharp and commanding.

“The Old Woman summoned her and her alone,” Patrick said cautiously. “That she made clear enough.”

Torrance’s gaze snapped to Patrick. “The Old Woman does not command me,” Torrance said with an angry snarl. “I command!”

Breann dared a glance up, her voice tight with unease. “It’s not the custom. The Old Woman summons who she wishes, no one dares approach her without being summoned.”

“And no one commands my wife but me,” he said with such force that Breann drew back, and Patrick turned his head away as if avoiding being struck.

Esme’s fingers curled into the folds of her garment. She kept her voice calm, respectful. “May I speak with you privately, my lord?”

“Nay,” Torrance snapped. “The matter is settled. We go together or not at all.”

“Then the Old Woman will not meet with you,” Patrick said.

Torrance turned his cold gaze on him. “We’ll see about that.”

The warning settled heavily in the room.

“I meant no disrespect,” Patrick said, trying to make amends for his error. “Only that if your wife does not go meet her, the answers you seek may stay buried.”

Torrance said nothing, only stared at Esme a long moment—long enough for her to feel it deep in her bones.

He was worried. She could see it beneath the hardened mask he wore.

And she understood now that it was because he loved her.

It wasn’t duty all those times he had protected her…

it was because he loved her. And it would be so easy to love him, but she worried that Torrance would somehow get in the way as foolish a thought that was.

“I will have my answers one way or another, but my wife will not go meet the Old Woman alone.” Torrance turned a scowl on Esme. “Do I make myself clear, wife?”

“Aye, my lord,” she said softly. “I will abide by your decision.”

He gave her a slight nod, but she could still see the storm brewing in his eyes.

The hall doors burst open.

A lad stumbled inside, panting, his face pale. “My lord! Warriors! They approach the village fast, two dozen from what I could see and armed for battle.”

“Do they wear my colors?” Torrance asked, not moving from where he sat.

The lad thought a moment, then nodded. “Aye, they do wear the colors of your plaid.’

Torrance looked at Patrick. “My men. See them greeted and brought here to me.”

Patrick nodded, stood, and left with the lad.

Breann turned to go.

“Did I give you permission to leave?” Torrance asked with a harshness that turned Breann pale.

Fear froze Breann, but she managed to say, “Nay, my lord.”

“How do I get a message to the Old Woman?” he asked.

“She will get one to you,” Breann said and shivered, fearful that her answer would disappoint him.

“We will talk again. You are dismissed,” he said with a careless wave of his hand and when the door shut behind her, he turned to Esme.

“We only have a moment before Brack, and my warriors arrive.

We will discuss this matter when it is safe to do so.

But know I meant what I said. You will not go meet the Old Woman alone.

“What if it is the only way?” she whispered.

“There is always another way.”

“Nay, not always. Sometimes you have no choice but to make do if you want to survive.”

“This is not one of those times,” he argued. “I will not chance losing you.”

His words were genuine as was the concern in his eyes. He truly didn’t want to lose her. Her heart and stomach fluttered. Never had her father nor Torrance expressed such true concern for her and though Ryland’s arms were not around her, his words hugged her tightly.

Brack rushed into the hall, sword drawn, and his glance racing around the room.

“We are safe here,” Torrance called out.

“This is Purdom land, no one is safe here,” Brack challenged.

“Do I appear injured to you, Brack, and what took you so long to reach me?” Torrance demanded.

Satisfied no danger existed, Brack came to a stop in front of the table where Torrance sat.

“I expected to find you at Clan Stott where you were to stay while in this area. I feared you were taken captive or worse dead since the tracker found so many different tracks. Until he finally found the ones familiar to your stallion.”

Torrance scowled. “Then the tracker needs to improve his skills.”

Brack sheathed his sword with a sharp motion. “Aye, I told him the same. This is no place for you to be, my lord.”

“And my warriors should not have betrayed me,” Torrance said, his scowl deepening.

Brack’s jaw tensed. “And they will suffer greatly for it when caught and warning has gone out to anyone who may be harboring them or any Glencairn warrior who may be thinking to do the same. Betray Lord Torrance and your suffering will be never-ending.”

“Have any been caught?” Torrance demanded.

“I have sent some trusted warriors out to hunt those who betrayed you, but the focus has been on finding you.”

“Now that you have found me shift the focus on finding those who dared to raise their swords against me,” Torrance ordered.

“Aye, my lord, as soon as I see you settled safely at Clan Stott.”

“I am not going to Clan Stott,” Torrance said, with such finality that it left no room for argument.

Brack argued anyway. “That is not what was agreed. Clan Stott is prepared to offer you shelter, warriors, whatever you need. It was arranged for your protection.”

Torrance’s eyes narrowed. “And you trust them completely with that protection?”

Brack’s brow furrowed. “They have always proven loyal.”

“You know as well as I do that loyalty can sour faster than milk left in the sun.” Torrance leaned forward, his tone cool. “Gavin. Has he returned?”

Brack blinked at the sudden change in subject. “Gavin? I don’t believe so. Last I heard, he had not been seen since you dismissed him and the others who failed you.”

Torrance gave a noncommittal grunt and reached for his tankard. “See if that has changed.”

“You believe he may have returned?”

“I asked if he has. Not what I believe.”

Brack’s gaze sharpened. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Torrance’s grip tightened around the tankard. “What I do or don’t tell you is my decision.”

Brack stepped closer. “Are you doubting my loyalty to you, my lord? My concern is and always has been for your safety, your life.”

Torrance’s fist tapped the table. “Then do as I order without question.”

“It is my duty to question you, to challenge you,” Brack snapped, the last thread of restraint unraveling. “You should be at Clan Stott. You're vulnerable here, exposed. Too many unknowns?—”

“Then let me make it known now,” Torrance cut in, his voice suddenly low and lethal. “Where I go, where I stay, who I trust… that is my decision to make, not yours.”

Brack bristled. “I’ve risked my life to keep you alive, my lord. I only speak because?—”

“Because you forget your place,” Torrance growled, rising slowly from the bench. “You may command the warriors, Brack, but not me. Never me.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and Brack held his tongue only by sheer discipline. He gave a sharp nod, though the tension in his shoulders was obvious.

Torrance stood tall, every inch the feared leader. “You say this land is dangerous. Then prove your loyalty. Protect me and keep watch. But speak again as if you rule my steps, and you won’t like the consequences. Do you understand, Brack?”

Brack inclined his head stiffly. “Understood, my lord.”

Torrance sat, ending the conversation, but the fire in his gut hadn’t settled. He’d seen Gavin speaking with Eagan and he wondered who else plotted against Torrance. And the elderly woman’s warning whispered in his head.

Friends are foes and foes are friends .

“See that preparations are made for my stay here,” Torrance ordered, wondering who to trust.

“How long?—”

“Until I say otherwise,” Torrance snapped. “Now go and do as I say.”

Esme had remained silent throughout the exchange, knowing Torrance would never tolerate her interference. But now that Brack was gone, she went to speak.

“Not a word,” he warned.

If she didn’t know any better, she would swear it was Torrance who had spoken to her. And it did make her wonder if perhaps a bit of Torrance existed in Ryland.

Then he placed his hand on her thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze and that was not something Torrance would do. He would have squeezed her thigh until she cried out in pain. So, she held her tongue and waited for a better time to speak with him.

Evening fell with a slow hush, the gray sky giving way to deep indigo as a thin flurry of snow drifted down like ash from a weary sky. The village quieted early, as if sensing that something—or someone—rested uneasily among them.

The cottage that had been prepared for Torrance and Esme stood at the edge of the village, its thatched roof rimmed with frost and smoke curling from the chimney.

Inside, the warmth from the hearth filled the small space, casting a soft amber glow across the room.

It was modest, no more than one room with a curtained alcove for sleeping, but it was enough.

Torrance stood near the fire, his hands outstretched toward the flames. He had not spoken since they’d left the hall, tension etched in every line of his body.