Page 44 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance (Highland Revenge Trilogy #3)

“ H e’s angry with you,” Esme whispered, glancing at Brack, a sneer on his face as he cautiously surveyed the woods around them.

“His suspicion grows with every decision I make that is contrary to what Torrance would have done,” Ryland said, too busy scanning the area to waste a glance on Brack.

Esme tightened her hold around his waist. She could feel the tension in him, the way his body had been taut with unease since dawn.

They had left the village just after daybreak, not a bit of sun greeting the morn.

Nothing but bleak gray clouds had followed the road they traveled along through the dense woods.

Brack had been furious when Ryland had refused to punish the villagers for Patrick’s folly. Ryland had gone further and ordered a hunt to fill their larders. That alone had Brack ready to voice his disapproval, but he held his tongue when Torrance threatened him.

“Object to another decision of mine and I will cut your tongue out of your mouth.”

That had settled that matter, hence the sneer but not another word was heard from Brack.

The trees thickened ahead, the path narrowing and the heavily snow-covered ground making travel difficult.

“Maybe we should have waited, at least until the snow melted some more,” Esme said, eyeing the large snowdrift they had to make their way around.

“Nay. That bit of sun and warmth yesterday lolled us into believing we need not worry about more snow. The air turned bitter today telling us otherwise. We are too vulnerable at Purdom Village. We need to reach home where I can make sure you are safe. Besides, I am eager to speak with the woman Ida told you about, Verna. I don’t recall Torrance ever mentioning her. ”

“Why would he?” Esme asked. “She was nothing but a mere servant to him and his mum’s servant at that. He probably didn’t even know her name.”

“Quiet,” Ryland urged with a hush.

How his body tensed more than it already had puzzled Esme and frightened her. Something was wrong and she watched as he tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes, as if he was straining to hear something.

Ryland slowed the horse, his voice a quiet warning. “We dismount. Now.”

Fear rippled through Esme as he called out to Brack while he drew his stallion to a stop and nodded at him.

Brack acknowledged his nod with his own and silently alerted the men.

She tensed, her stomach tightening, and dread filling her. Ryland swung down off the horse first, then reached up for her, settling her quickly to the ground behind him. He moved her toward a pine tree.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “Keep the tree to your back, and if things turn badly... run.”

She went to argue, not willing to leave him, but thought better of it and nodded, worry flaring in her eyes.

Brack hurried toward them. “What is it?”

“We’re not alone,” Ryland answered, drawing his sword.

An arrow struck the tree beside them.

“Ambush!” Brack shouted, drawing his blade as men burst from behind the trees.

They came fast—mercenaries by the look of them. Ragged, armed, and intent on blood.

Ryland waited, sword ready. He would not go far from Esme. The first attacker lunged and was met with a brutal strike to the chest that sent him staggering back. Another followed, slashing at Ryland’s side. Ryland ducked and countered, his blade slicing clean through the man’s thigh.

Brack fought close to Ryland, covering his right flank. “Too many to be coincidence,” he spat, parrying a blow. “They were waiting for us.”

Ryland grunted, felling another man with a savage thrust. That meant that someone alerted another to their plans, or they were being watched.

Steel clashed and shouts filled the air as the battle bloomed. Ryland fought with grim efficiency, always aware of Esme’s position behind him. He adjusted his stance to always keep himself between her and the fight, forcing attackers to face him head-on.

One mercenary broke past Brack and charged toward Esme.

Ryland’s rage surged and he released a terrifying roar as he threw himself into the man’s path. He caught him mid-lunge, blade striking hard enough to break through bone. The mercenary dropped, gurgling, to the forest floor.

Brack shouted, his voice raw. Ryland turned just in time to see Brack take a blade to the shoulder. He staggered, barely keeping his grip on his sword, but didn’t fall.

Ryland was beside him in an instant, taking the man down with one swing.

“Bloody hell,” Brack growled, his shoulder bleeding freely and though his movements were hampered, he stayed upright, fighting.

Ryland fought with the fury of a skilled and seasoned warrior, but still men kept coming, a steady stream of them.

His warriors fought bravely, some falling never to rise again and others continuing to fight though wounded.

It was like the battle with Clan Glencairn where the mercenary warriors completely flooded the battlefield.

He didn’t even have a chance to turn and see how Esme was, blades swinging all around him.

Esme watched with horror, one hand clenched around a fallen branch. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing. There were too many of them. They would not survive the battle. She did the only thing she could… she prayed for help.

It came quicker than she expected, a roar from deeper in the woods.

A troop of warriors thundered through the trees, Torrance’s colors flying on their sashes.

The mercenaries faltered at the sight of the warriors charging, and within moments, the tide turned. The clash of swords rang louder, and cries of pain followed as the attackers were cut down or fled into the woods.

Ryland spun, chest heaving, eyes sweeping the clearing. “Esme?”

“I’m here,” she called, rising unsteadily. She stared at the blood, the bodies, and then at him—unharmed, fury and worry in his eyes. She dropped the branch and ran to him.

His arm reached out and scooped her up around the waist, her arms going around his neck as he hugged her tightly against him. She felt his heart pound against her chest, though it could have been her heart it hammered so heavily. But it didn’t matter. They were alive, they survived.

Esme gasped, catching sight of Brack leaning heavily against a tree, his hand clamped over his shoulder, both covered in blood.

Ryland turned lowering Esme to the ground as he did. He took her hand, and they hurried to Brack.

Brack grimaced as he tried to stand straight.

“Stay as you are,” Ryland commanded.

Brack sagged against the tree. “I left orders for a sizeable troop to follow if we hadn’t returned by a certain time. If all went well, I intended to send a message to rescind the order, but seeing how things were going, I thought it wise to leave it stand.”

“You will be rewarded for your wise choice,” Ryland said.

Brack’s eyes narrowed before his questioning look turned to another grimace.

Ryland turned and signaled to one of his warriors. “See to his wound.”

“I need it wrapped, that’s all,” Brack insisted.

Ryland ignored him. “See that he can ride. There will be only brief rests. We ride straight home.”

“I am grateful, my lord,” Brack said as Ryland turned away.

Ryland stopped and turned. “For what?”

“Saving my life. That was… kind of you.”

“That I needed as many warriors fighting as possible, then I suppose you can say it was kind of me rather than practical. Now see to your wound. I am impatient to leave.”

“It is difficult for a good man to hide his nature,” Esme whispered after they were a distance away from Brack.

“He knows,” Ryland said, annoyed.

“Or he questions like I did, unsure of what he suspects.”

“This has gone on long enough. It needs to end and soon,” Ryland said.

A warrior approached them cautiously.

Ryland waved him forward. “What is it?”

“We found one still alive, but he won’t be for long.”

“Show me,” Ryland ordered and was about to tell Esme to wait there for him when she tugged his hand for them to hurry and follow the warrior. She was not going to be left behind.

One look and Esme saw that the man wouldn’t live long. She also saw how Torrance’s warriors watched him. Most looked fearful, but a few grinned as if in anticipation and Esme’s stomach roiled at the thought of the pleasure they got from seeing another suffer.

“Who do you fight for?” Ryland demanded.

“Don’t know…don’t… care,” the man struggled to say.

“You fight for coin?” Ryland asked.

The fellow continued struggling to speak. “The only… thing… that matters.”

Ryland squatted down beside the man, staring at him.

The man squinted as if he was trying to see Ryland clearly.

Ryland leaned over and whispered something to him.

The fellow whispered something back and they exchanged several whispers before Ryland stood. He looked about to walk away when his hand went to the dagger at his waist. In one fluid motion, he slipped the dagger from its sheath, bent down, and slit the man’s throat.

No one spoke and no one moved, and Esme paled.

“Move his body deeper into the woods away from the path,” Ryland ordered, as if taking a life had not bothered him at all.

Esme found herself speechless when Ryland took her by the arm and continued to issue orders and in no time, she found herself atop his horse and in his arms. Once again, they were on their way.

Glencairn warriors surrounded them, the wounded riding double so they could be helped and the dead left to the forest animals.

Esme could not stop seeing what Ryland did to the man.

It was burned into her head. He had slit his throat without a flinch as if it didn’t matter in the least to him.

It was something Torrance would have done.

But he wasn’t Torrance, something she needed to remember. Why then did he do it?

Esme raised her head, their eyes meeting.

Ryland saw the question in her eyes and kept his voice low as he said, “I knew him.”

She let out a low gasp, suddenly understanding.

“He begged me to end his suffering quickly when I called him by name and reminded him what I—Ryland—had said the last time we spoke. He fought alongside Clan MacLeish against Clan Glencairn. He was a good man. He spoke the truth when he said he didn’t know and didn’t care who hired him.

He only cared that Lord Torrance was to die and his wife in case she carried his child. ”

“You ended his suffering.”

“It was the least I could do for him when he was a friend to Clan MacLeish.”

Esme rested her hand against his chest. “There are too many who hated Torrance. They will not stop. You need to speak the truth and let everyone know who you are.”

“Not until I can prove I have a right to rule Clan Glencairn. Once that is established, no one can object.”

Worry for his safety, for their future together had her trying to make him see reason. “No one would object. The clan would be relieved to have you lead them.”

“I must prove to them who I am, so I can secure my leadership, so no one can step forward and object, so I can make sure you are safe, and no harm can come to you or our bairn if you should carry one.”

“Then it must be done quickly, or I will perish from the fear of losing you,” she argued with a soft smile.

“Love me that much, do you?” he teased with a chuckle.

Her whisper was soft, her eyes intense when she said, “Much more than you can imagine.”

His heart thumped against his chest and his love for her soared. “I want so badly to kiss you right now, but?—”

“Torrance would not do that. He would wear his annoyance for all to see which you are having difficulty maintaining right now. So, turn your desire to kiss me to anger that Torrance is stopping you from kissing me.” Her eyes widened with how fast anger flared in his eyes.

Ryland snarled. “Even in death, he touches you.”

“I want badly to soothe you, but it will not help us. So, stay angry,” she said, folding her arms across her chest and turning her head away from him as if annoyed.

Ryland took advantage of her small act of defiance and grabbed hold of her chin to turn her head to face him and spoke loud enough for those nearby to hear. “Watch your tongue, wife, or I’ll see you locked away in your bedchamber.”

Esme lowered her head. “Forgive me, my lord.” She hurried to whisper, “You better be locked away with me.”

He scoffed, for the benefit of anyone watching them, and she could swear she felt him grow hard against her. A smile hurried to her face, but she kept it from escaping, eager to get home and be locked away with him.