Page 6 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance (Highland Revenge Trilogy #3)

E sme lifted her face to the lightly falling snow, remembering how, as a child, she’d tried to catch snowflakes on her tongue.

She had been young then, carefree. Those days were gone, though lately, she’d been granted a small reprieve.

Torrance had departed unexpectedly three days ago having received a message shortly after the grievances had been heard.

His absence, brief as it might be, had returned a measure of peace to her days.

Brack had been left in charge, though he paid her little mind. She made certain never to draw his attention just as she did a short time ago when she saw him speaking in whispers with Brenna in the Great Hall. She slipped by them unnoticed.

She didn’t bother pulling up the hood of her fur-lined cloak as she made her way through the village with a particular destination in mind.

Let the snow dust her hair. When she was young, she’d believed snow was fairy dust scattered across the land.

A soft chuckle slipped from her lips at the memory.

How lovely it would be to share such a whimsical thought with a daughter one day.

But the chuckle faded quickly. Giving Torrance a daughter would only bring hardship. Daughters could not defend themselves the way sons could. Torrance would want strong sons… warriors. Nothing less. She brushed the troubling thought aside and kept walking.

Villagers offered her smiles and respectful nods, but few dared speak with her. She didn’t blame them. A single word, taken the wrong way, could bring Torrance’s wrath. No one risked such things, not even for kindness.

The snow blanketing the ground lent the village an almost magical beauty. That was why she headed for the woods because there was where the magic deepened. The woods transformed beneath the snow’s touch, dressed in shimmering white, quiet and untouched.

The woods welcomed her like an old friend.

As she stepped beneath the trees, the quiet wrapped around her, soft and complete, broken only by the occasional whisper of snow slipping from a branch or the distant cry of a bird.

The hush was comforting, a rare thing in her life…

like being cradled by something far greater than herself.

She wandered a narrow trail, her gloved hand brushing over snow-laden branches, each touch leaving a trace of her passing.

Icicles clung to the tips of pine boughs like delicate frozen teardrops, and here and there, animal tracks crisscrossed the snow—fox, hare, perhaps a deer.

The air was crisp, each breath drawing a touch of frost across her lungs, and she closed her eyes, letting it settle through her like a soothing balm.

This was where she could breathe.

She came to a small clearing where snow lay undisturbed, a silvery-white canvas untouched by man or beast. A thick-barked tree with heavy limbs curved protectively overhead, and she stepped beneath it, tilting her head to watch the flakes filter down through the tangled branches.

Here, in this stillness, she could pretend, for a heartbeat, that she was simply a woman on a wander, not a wife tied to a man she feared.

“You come here often?”

The voice startled Esme. She turned sharply to see Una step lightly between the trees, a woolen cloak clasped at her neck, her hair braided back but wind-tossed around her pale face. Unlike the others in the village, Una’s gaze did not drop respectfully. It met hers, curious and calm.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Una said, her tone light, almost teasing. “But I suppose it’s easy to forget you’re not alone, even out here.”

Esme’s shoulders eased. “It’s quite all right. I just… needed some time.”

Una gave a small nod and stepped into the clearing, her boots crunching softly in the snow. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Like the world decided to stop and take a breath.”

Esme looked around again and smiled faintly. “Aye. That’s exactly how it feels.”

Una tucked her hands into her sleeves. “Sometimes I think the forest is the only place where truth can live. It’s quiet here. Honest.”

Esme didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing.

“I’ve never liked the silence in the keep,” Una went on. “It’s a false silence, one full of secrets and watchers. Here, at least, no one listens but the trees.”

Esme studied the young woman. There was boldness in her tone that made her nervous, but also curious.

Una seemed to catch her hesitation and shrugged. “I’m a prisoner, same as you. Some chains are just better hidden than others.”

Esme’s eyes widened slightly, but Una only offered a faint, tired smile. “One day I hope to be free. Until then, I take what moments I sneak—like this.”

“You’re not afraid to say such things?” Esme asked, unsure whether to be shocked or impressed.

“I’m afraid of many things,” Una admitted. “But not of truth. And neither should you be. You should speak your mind more.”

Esme sighed softly. “It is easy to say when you’re not bound to a man like Torrance.”

Una gave a low laugh. “I’m bound to your husband’s rules, but I won’t let my voice be silenced.”

“You are braver than I am,” Esme admitted.

“You have more courage than you think. You just need to embrace it,” Una said then leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. “There’s talk Lord Torrance is seeking another wife.”

The words hit Esme like a stone to the chest. “What?”

“I don’t say it to be cruel,” Una said quickly. “Only to warn you. If you want something different, if you don’t want to be replaced, you’d best find the courage to do something about it.”

Esme stared at her, words tangled in her throat, when a voice cut through the stillness like a whipcrack.

“ESME!”

Torrance.

He stepped into the clearing like a storm, eyes blazing, jaw clenched. “What in God’s name are you doing out here alone?” His gaze slid to Una. “Leave us.”

Una held her ground for a heartbeat, then bowed her head, and slipped away without another word.

Torrance turned his fury on Esme. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? I couldn’t find you when I arrived home. You vanished without telling anyone.”

“I only walked to the woods as I have done occassionally,” she said quietly.

He took a threatening step towards her. “You are not to walk in the woods alone. Not ever. Do you understand me?”

She nodded, too stunned to speak, her brief escape already crumbling, then she thought about what Una had said to her about courage, and she surprised herself and asked, “Why?”

He scrunched his brow as if he didn’t understand her question.

“Why can I never walk in the woods alone? You never minded before now,” she said to make herself clear.

He took another step towards her. “Because I command it.”

She stayed as she was, though her legs weakened some, but her resolve held firm. “Am I in danger? Is that why you command it?”

His green eyes continued to blaze. “You dare question me?”

“I only wish to understand, my lord.”

“You don’t need to understand,” he said, stepping closer. “You only need to obey me, wife, a duty you seem to be failing.”

Esme’s resolve melted with the way he towered over her like a bird of prey who could devour her with one bite.

She took a step back, hitting the thick tree trunk.

She went to move but Torrance was quicker.

He stepped closer, trapping her against it with his body while he rested one hand against the thick bark.

Instinct and fear had her offer an apology. “Forgive me, my lord. I will do better.”

“Is that a promise, wife?”

She kept her head down, not wanting to meet his eyes that surely raged with anger. “Aye, my lord.”

“Look at me when you answer me,” he snapped.

She raised her head slowly, fearful of seeing the fury in his eyes and of him seeing the fear in hers and extended an apology as she did. “Aye, my lord, it is a promise.”

Esme eyes held his, not sure of what she saw in them, though she thought the bold green color softened.

“What am I to do with you, Esme?’ he asked quietly.

She didn’t know how to respond to him, or what he expected of her. She said what she thought he would want to hear, though it slipped out as a question. “Whatever you wish, my lord?” His response shocked her.

“I wish to kiss you,” he said, and lowered his lips to hers.

She braced herself, remembering how harsh his kisses had been and was shocked.

His lips were gently against hers as if unsure, as if only becoming familiar with her.

Faintly they brushed across hers causing an intense shot of pleasure to race through her.

He must have felt or sensed it since his lips turned stronger against hers and surprisingly, and disturbingly, she responded.

He kissed her with strength, and not a trace of harshness, and as if he could not get enough of her.

When he pressed his body firmly against her, she felt the hardness of his manhood poking her, and she gasped.

He ripped his mouth away from hers and pounded his fist against the bark. “You are a fool!”

She felt his sharp words like a slap in the face and turned her head away from him.

Torrance stepped away from her, anger returning to his eyes. Then he reached out and grabbed her arm, forcing her to keep step with his fast strides all the way to and through the village, people trying to avoid the troubling scene, and into the keep.

Once in the Great Hall, Torrance shoved her away and ordered, “To your bedchamber until I command otherwise.”

Esme was only too glad to seek refuge in her bedchamber, away from his anger and glances of pity from the servants.

As she hurried off, she heard him shout, “Ale and food in my solar, NOW!”

Torrance paced in front of the table in his solar, the servants winding their way around him to set food and a jug of ale on the table. He stopped pacing as soon as the door closed behind him and filled his tankard with ale and took a generous swallow.

He slammed the tankard on the table and grumbled when he spotted the scratches on his knuckles from punching the tree in the woods. He shook his head and went to the hearth to stand in front of it and let the heat wash over him.

He had called himself a fool too late. He should have done so before he kissed her, but he couldn’t resist her lips, berry red from the cold. They raised an ache in him that he couldn’t ignore.

It was too soon. The time not right and it might never be. He had to stick to the plan, find out who betrayed him before he could trust anyone before it was too late. It was the only way.

He buried his annoyance in the remainder of the ale, then filled his tankard again. He was glad for the interruption when a rap sounded at the door.

Brack entered.

“Let it happen again, and you will feel my wrath,” Torrance yelled after the door closed. “And I assume you are wise enough to know of what I speak.”

“Forgive me, my lord,” Brack said with a bob of his head. “I will see that my lady doesn’t go into the woods unattended again.” To avoid more admonishment, he asked, “Did your meeting go well?”

“Aye, since the defeat of Clan MacLeish other clans seek to gain my favor, fearing they will be attacked next. And with rumors spreading about what fate awaits Chieftain Ryland… none wish to take the chance of possibly being drawn and quartered.”

“Is that what his fate will be… drawn and quartered?”

Torrance shook his head. “I have yet to decide his fate.” He let the issue end there for now. “A message arrived while I was at Clan MacLodder, securing its allegiance to me, an invitation from Chieftain Stuart of Clan Rennoch to attend the celebration of his son, Roland’s betrothal.”

“He is not one to be trusted,” Brack said. “He has thoughts of gaining power of his own.”

“I am aware, but it would be good to avoid another battle if possible.”

“The men are ready to fight and mercenaries standby eager to fight for you again.”

“Because I pay them well,” Torrance scoffed.

It is a sizeable army nonetheless,” Brack reminded. “And you would be wise to take more than a small group of your warriors with you when you go to Clan Rennoch.”

“I thought the same myself,” Torrance agreed.

“I should go with you.”

Torrance shook his head. “Nay. I need you here. It could be a ploy to attack Clan Glencairn.”

Brack’s annoyance had him speaking bluntly. “Stuart believes he can defeat Clan Glencairn.”

“Him and how many others believe such foolishness?” Torrance snapped. “Have you ever known me to be a fool?”

Brack hesitated for a moment too long.

“Speak your piece,” Torrance ordered, sharply.

“When a person is close to death, as your father was, they can make foolish demands. His mind was not right near the end. I never expected you to honor his foolish demand about your half-sister Autumn—Dru as she now calls herself. I believed you would keep your word and see her in a marriage that would benefit the clan, not wed to some mercenary.”

“Whether my father meant it or not, he asked for my word, and I gave it. Dru will remain wed to Knox.” He waved Brack away. “Leave me. I have much to think about.”

“Think on a wife for Hakon,” Brack advised. “He is not a man you want to keep waiting.”

“Then bring me some possibilities besides, Una. Evil women who would suit Hakon.”

“All women are evil,” Brack said as he headed to the door, “but I will do my best to find the evilest among them.”

Torrance remained focused on the closed door. It was important he remained focused, clear-headed with all the issues he faced. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted and have the smallest detail slip past him.

So, why did Esme stand out in his mind? Why did she intrude on his every thought? In the scheme of things, she was unimportant. But he knew otherwise, and it haunted him.