Page 38 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance (Highland Revenge Trilogy #3)

R yland stood unmoving in the middle of the small cottage, the fire in the hearth crackling cheerfully, mocking him. Esme’s cloak was missing and so were her boots. Had she left of her own accord? He felt a punch to his gut. Or had someone taken her?

His hands clenched at his sides, fury twisting his stomach in knots. He didn’t believe she would go without leaving a word, but if he was right that meant she hadn’t gone willingly. And he didn’t like that possibility at all.

He turned sharply, scanning the room again as if it might yield a clue, some sign of struggle.

But there was nothing, only absence, the aching, hollow kind.

This time he felt it in his heart, as if something clawed at it, the pain so overwhelmed him.

He couldn’t lose her again. Torrance had snatched her away from him before he could even make his intentions known to her.

He would never let anyone take her away from him again.

A knock sounded.

He strode to the door and yanked it open, eyes narrowing when he saw Patrick standing there, shoulders tight, face pale beneath the shadow of his hood.

“What is it?” Ryland demanded curtly, resuming the role of Torrance.

“A message for you,” Patrick said.

“Tell me,” Torrance said, his jaw tense and his mind racing with finding Esme.

“Lady Esme went with Breann to meet the Old Woman,” Patrick said quietly, the news meant for Torrance’s ears alone.

Torrance stepped away from the door waving Patrick inside.

“Lady Esme insisted you be told,” Patrick said after closing the door.

“She shouldn’t have gone without me.”

“It’s probably why she went. She knew you wouldn’t let her go.”

“She’s right,” Torrance growled. “I wouldn’t have allowed her to go.”

The silence stretched heavy with tension and worry.

“I am going after her,” Torrance said.

“Is that wise when the Old Woman wants only to speak with Lady Esme?”

“Wise or not, I will not leave her out there alone when men want her dead along with me.”

“You’ll take your warriors?”

“Nay. I don’t know who to trust among them.”

“You can trust me, my lord,” Patrick said with a bob of his head.

“For your sake I hope so,” Torrance warned.

The snow was falling heavier now, blanketing the forest in a thick hush.

Esme tugged her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the hood already damp from the wet flakes.

She kept close pace with Breann, their boots leaving footprints in the snow that had turned heavy.

The occasional snap of brittle twigs was the only sounds between them as they moved deeper among the trees.

“Are you sure my message will reach my husband?” Esme asked, worried what Ryland would think when he found her gone which was why she insisted Breann get a message to him to let him know where she went.

Breann didn’t pause her stride. “It will. I trust the woman I gave it to, and she will see that Patrick delivers it since she would be too fearful to do so herself.”

Esme nodded but unease stirred in her chest. Not fear exactly—but the sense of stepping off a familiar path into something unseen.

Decisions weren’t something she was used to making for herself.

Her father ruled any important matters in her life, then Torrance, and now Ryland, though with him it was different.

While Ryland might get upset with her hasty decision, she did not have to worry about repercussion and punishment.

He loved her and would never be cruel to her.

And what she was doing would help them move closer to being free to have a life together, at least she hoped it would.

“What do you know of the Old Woman?” Esme asked, wanting to learn what she could about the woman before meeting her.

Breann slowed, brushing a snow-covered branch aside. “As I mentioned before, I’ve never met her. Few have.”

Esme frowned. “Then how?—?”

“Healers pass her messages around and share her wise words. I know only what I’ve heard about her. She has knowledge stretching far beyond most. She has strong opinions, and those who argue with her often regret it.”

They walked a few paces more before Breann added, “It is said she can read a person down to the marrow of their bones. So, if you go to her hoping to fool or flatter, you’d best turn around now.”

Esme blinked against the swirling flakes. “I go to hear what she wishes to tell me.”

“Good.” Breann stopped then, placing a hand on Esme’s arm. “From here, you go alone.”

Esme looked ahead. The woods thickened, trees standing close like silent sentinels, the light dimming beneath their snow-laden boughs.

“Follow the stream,” Breann instructed, pointing to where water still trickled, the air not cold enough to freeze it. “It will lead you to a stone crossing. Go over it, and in the woods beyond, you will find her there.”

Esme hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you. Will you be waiting here for me when I am done?”

“Nay,” Breann said, pulling her cloak tighter around her against the snow. “But your husband probably will be here since this is where Patrick will track us to, though neither man will know where to go from here.”

“You underestimate Torrance,” Esme said, though she meant Ryland, for she was sure Ryland would let nothing stop him from finding her and that thought lessened her worry.

With that, Breann turned and melted back into the snow and trees, leaving Esme to the silence and the path ahead.

The trees thinned just beyond the stone crossing, giving way to a small clearing blanketed in snow.

At its center stood a crooked hut, its thatched roof hunched beneath the white weight of winter, a thin line of smoke curling from its chimney.

Esme hesitated at the edge of the trees, her breath misting in the cold and her stomach roiling anxiously, then she stepped forward.

The door creaked open before she could knock.

“Finally, you respond to my summons,” the sharp voice said.

Esme’s breath caught as her eyes took in the familiar face of the old woman who spoke to her at Clan Rennoch emerged from the shadows of the doorway, the same sharp eyes gleaming and her long silver hair plaited neatly.

“You,” Esme whispered. “You were there…”

“I am always where I’m meant to be,” the Old Woman said, turning and leaving the door open behind her. “Come, lass, and shut away the cold behind you. We’ve words to speak.”

Esme stepped inside and closed the door. The warmth of a small fire greeted her, flickering beneath a blackened pot. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with herbs, bones, stones, and things that whispered of old magic.

Esme didn’t wait… she got right to the heart of the matter. “You summoned me. Why?”

“You have questions, and I have things to tell you,” the Old Woman said, settling on a bench at the table barely big enough for two. “Sit and pour yourself some chamomile tea to warm you.”

Esme kept her cloak on, too chilled, from the walk and snow to remove it. She gratefully filled a small tankard with tea, cupping it to warm her hands.

Esme spoke truthfully. “I have more questions than I can count, but I have been warned to listen and say little.”

“Bah,” the Old Woman said, dismissing her claim with a wave of her hand. “Spoken by the fearful and weak. You are neither. You have grown in courage and strength.”

“I have my share of fear and weakness,” Esme admitted.

“Most do, but few learn and grow from it like you have.”

Her words sunk deep, Esme realizing there was truth to her words.

“I will speak my piece and then you may ask questions,” the Old Woman said and took a swallow from her tankard before speaking. “Secrets run deep in Clan Purdom and deeper still in Clan Glencairn. They’ve tangled themselves in lies so long, even the liars no longer know what’s true.”

Esme tightened her grip on her tankard, her heart pounding, waiting to hear more, to learn the secrets.

“Beware. Vengeance will bring you nothing,” the Old Woman warned, her gaze sharp. “What you need is truth. And truth lies with the one who was there. The one who saw it all.”

Questions rushed out of Esme. “Saw what? Tell me who it is and how I find this person?”

Before the old woman could answer, the door slammed open behind her, cold wind rushing in.

“Esme!”

She turned to see Ryland filling the doorway, fury and worry etched deep across his handsome face. His eyes snapped to the Old Woman.

Her lips curled in disdain. “I made it clear that I did not wish to speak with you.”

“I don’t care what you wish,” Ryland snapped. “I am here, and you will answer my questions.” He shoved the door shut behind him as if it sealed his intentions.

“You think to command me?” the Old Woman asked with a chuckle.

“Must I?” he asked and turned his head briefly to Esme. “You should not have come here alone.”

“I could not pass up the opportunity,” Esme said softly. “I left a message. I knew you would follow.”

“You are lucky to have such a faithful and kind woman love you from the depths of her heart,” the Old Woman said and grinned at the surprised look on his face. She chuckled. “You didn’t know that she loves you?”

Esme spoke. “I have felt it in my heart, but?—”

“You don’t need to speak of this here, Esme,” Ryland said, though his heart soared that it could be true that she did love him more than he expected she would.

“Aye, I do,” she said, nodding. “I do love you from deep in my heart. I have since you told me that you love me. I was too fearful to accept it for reasons I am sure you understand. But you have proven to me you are the man I can love without question, the man who will always see me kept from harm, a man who will keep an honest tongue with me, a man who will forever love me. A man I will forever love.”

Ryland snatched her up off the chair and into his arms and kissed her with a strength that was meant to seal their love forever.

Their kiss ending, Ryland rested his brow to hers and said, “I will see that we have a good life together, Esme.”

“Not unless you solve this mess that has been left to you,” the Old Woman said, drawing both their attention.

Ryland kept his arm around Esme while his eyes focused on the Old Woman. “Explain what you mean.”

“I do not take orders from you,” the Old Woman warned.

Ryland’s eyes turned stormy. “I will have answers.”

Esme squeezed Ryland’s arm gently. “My husband can be impatient. You were telling me?—”

“Before he so rudely arrived uninvited,” the Old Woman said with a tilt of her chain.

“My apologies,” Esme said and gave Ryland’s arm another squeeze when she felt him stiffen beside her. “Understandably, his concern was for me. He means you no disrespect.”

“Is that true?” the Old Woman asked, her eyes glancing at Torrance.

He stared at the woman, Esme’s grip on his arm warning him to watch his words. But the woman had asked if that was true and lying would do him no good.

“Nay, it’s not true. How do you expect me to respect you when you summon my wife and command that she visits with you alone? I would be a poor husband to let my wife go alone to a stranger, especially when the information we seek concerns me, not her. Respect works both ways.”

“A truthful tongue, surprising and confirming,” the Old Woman said with sly smile.

His brow scrunched. “Confirming?

“Aye, your truthfulness confirms what I already knew. You are not Torrance. You are Ryland.”

Ryland stiffened.

“Torrance never spoke the truth, and he would have burst in here and threatened my life if I didn’t tell him what he wanted to know.”

Esme’s face betrayed her surprise as she spoke, “You knew Torrance?”

“I know of him and his family.”

“What do you know?” Ryland demanded.

“There you go demanding again,” the Old Woman chastised.

“And you not telling me anything, tells me you know nothing,” he accused.

The Old Woman stood so fast the bench she sat on toppled back. She stood straight, her height impressive, no hunch to her shoulders, and a flare of anger in her eyes.

“Here is something you should know, Chieftain Ryland of Clan MacLeish… you and Torrance are twins.”

The silence cracked like thunder.

Esme stared bewildered. “Twins?”

Ryland shook his head, stunned by her remark. “That’s not possible.”

“Isn’t it?” the Old Woman asked, not that she expected a response. “You have never wondered why you and Torrance looked so much alike. Never gave thought to him being your brother.”

“I can’t say the thought hadn’t crossed my mind a time or two that the rumors about my mum and Torrance’s father could be true. But that would make us half-brothers, not twins.” He shook his head again. “It makes no sense. That would mean my mum and da were not my true parents.”

“Therein lies the secret that must be revealed if you and Esme are ever to know peace.

“Could there be another to claim the title?” Esme asked, recalling what Ryland had told her about Lord Randall’s deathbed remark.

“Pretenders, liars, fools,” the Old Woman said dismissively.

The true heir to Clan Glencairn is the firstborn twin.

With your brother dead, it truly doesn’t matter whether you are the firstborn twin or not.

The problem is… proving you are Torrance’s twin and rightful heir to succeed him as leader of Clan Glencairn. ”