Page 19 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander (Falling for Highland Villains #5)

CHAPTER 19

“M’Laird,” Darach said again, then turned to Ava, who was still sitting on the white mare, and bowed his head.

Ava gave him a brief nod in return.

Darach then turned to Flora, an odd look on his face.

“Lady Flora.”

“Darach,” Flora responded, her usual tone completely absent.

Brodrick narrowed his eyes at them. The exchange was brief, yet there was something tense about it. Something he couldn’t exactly put his finger on. Something he didn’t have the time to think about, judging from the rather grave look on Darach’s face.

Brodrick stepped closer to him, his brow furrowed. “What is it?” he asked, the concern in his voice rather palpable.

Whatever news his man-at-arms had, he knew it was the kind that couldn’t wait for a second longer.

“The men… They dinnae agree with yer strategy.”

“Me strategy?” Brodrick asked, confused.

“They dinnae think stealth is the best answer. It was discussed at breakfast after the meeting. I asked that we wait for ye first, but they said that ye… ye shouldnae be there.”

Brodrick swallowed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ava jump down from the mare and move closer.

“This isnae important, lass,” he assured, turning to look at her.

“I’ll be the judge of that, My Laird.” Ava’s response was brief and sharp. So sharp that he knew nothing he was going to say would dissuade her. He rubbed the nape of his neck.

Darach looked between him and Ava, contemplating whether to continue.

“’Tis alright,” Brodrick said, nodding once.

Darach swallowed. “They said that they started this war as warriors and that what ye propose makes them look like… cowards.”

“Is this a joke?” Brodrick asked. “All I’m askin’ is for them to stand down for a while until we’re able to figure this out. We cannae keep blindly plundering villages now, can we?”

He immediately noticed the way Ava folded her arms across her chest, and he knew. He knew she had a lot to say.

“The men said that the only language people recognize is violence. And as long as the culprit hasn’t been found, they will continue to attack villages and… well, torture people.” Darach sighed.

“Because God forbid there’s another logical way to solve things, am I right?”

Ava’s words sent a chill up Brodrick’s spine.

He turned to her. “Lass, ye really dinnae ken what we’re talkin’ about.”

“No, I do not. But I know the language of war when I hear it. And I’ve seen enough blood to recognize the intention to draw it.”

“Ava—” Brodrick tried to stop her, but she was undeterred.

“Why are your men so bloodthirsty, My Laird? In fact, why is everyone here so bloodthirsty?” she asked.

“They’re nae,” Brodrick responded curtly.

“They most certainly are. Why does it always have to be about violence with them?”

Brodrick turned to his man-at-arms, an apologetic smile on his face. “Ye can leave. Tell the men I will speak with them later.”

Darach nodded and bowed his head once more. Then, just like he’d come, he exited the stables, leaving Ava and Brodrick standing by the entrance, their horses behind them.

“I think I might leave as well. I do have a letter to send anyway,” Ava whispered and headed out of the stables.

Brodrick followed, hot on her heels. “Ye cannae walk out on me, lass.”

Ava huffed. “I do not know why I let myself believe for a moment that this war would end after you found your child.”

She hurried across the dry fields, and Brodrick quickened his steps just to catch up to her.

“Nay, the war is far from over. We may have found me daughter, but we still need to find who took her from me in the first place and killed her maither.”

Ava turned to him, stopping abruptly. Brodrick halted just as well before colliding with her.

“Why? Why are you still pursuing this war? You have your daughter. Isn’t that enough?”

His nostrils flared. “Until I find the man who killed me wife and took me daughter, nothing is ever enough.”

“See? There it is again. That hunger. That thirst for blood.”

“I cannae keep sleepin’ and wakin’ up every day kennin’ that the culprit is doing the same.”

Ava sighed, rubbing her temples as she felt the beginning of a headache. “I don’t know why I let myself think you’re different from them.”

Brodrick furrowed his brow. “What?”

“You are all the same, aren’t you? Men, everywhere. Do you even care about the hundreds of people you harm along the way in your relentless pursuit of this one man?”

Brodrick swallowed, words hanging on the tip of his tongue but refusing to come out.

“You all just want to pillage villages, pick on the easiest targets, and exercise your power over them. With all due respect, My Laird, that does not exactly scream bravery to me.”

Ava turned and was about to resume walking when Brodrick reached out, wrapping his hand tightly against her wrist.

“Dinnae,” he started. “And I mean this severely, Governess. Dinnae ever compare me to the Viscount What’s-His-Name.”

Ava tried yanking her hand free, but his grip only grew tighter.

“Have you ever lost a child, Ava? Even for a day?”

Ava didn’t respond, but she pulled even harder, trying to yank her hand out of his grasp.

“How about a month, then? What about a week? I suppose ye dinnae ken what it feels like to have yer child taken away from ye for ten whole years, then.”

He pulled her closer to him, their faces only a few inches apart.

“Margaret was only a few months old when her maither was killed—when she was taken away from me. Every day, I wake up wonderin’ if I could’ve done anything different that would have prevented it. I have searched for me daughter for ten years ever since, carryin’ that regret with me wherever I go. Someone is goin’ to pay, lass. And they’re goin’ to pay dearly.”

He paused, his chest heaving up and down with shallow breaths. The wild morning winds blew around them, flapping his tartan and her dress.

He thought about it at that moment. Leaning in. Claiming her lips. Time would freeze, and for a moment, he would feel a temporary peace. He could see the thought flicker behind her eyes too.

Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back to his eyes, her heavy breaths mingling with his.

“It is no matter what you think of me anyway,” she finally whispered.

Brodrick’s eyes narrowed, and a wave of confusion properly settled on his face. “What are ye talking about?”

Ava shrugged. “It is true isn't it? This is all temporary.”

Brodrick continued to stare at her, the confusion growing on his face by the second.

“I leave for the orphanage soon.” She finally announced, like she had just dropped a cannon.

The words triggered something in Brodrick. Something he had yet to understand. He released his grip on her wrist. “Right.”

“Ava!” Flora’s voice suddenly called from the stables.

Brodrick swallowed. In this brief moment of insanity, he had forgotten that they were supposed to go horse riding, before all hell was let loose.

“I shall head to the study,” he muttered, no longer feeling the urge to ride. “Ye should go with them. I’ll only slow ye down.”

“Brodrick—”

“’Tis alright,” Brodrick cut her off. “I need to talk with me men anyway. Remind them where their loyalties must lie. I will be here when ye return.”

“But Flora?—”

“Tell her there was something I had to do. Margaret, too. I am certain they’ll understand.”

Before Ava could say another word, he turned on his heel and hurried back to the castle.

As his boots thudded against the grass, her words echoed in his mind, her voice so loud that he couldn’t help reaching for the pommel of his sword.

“I leave for the orphanage soon.”

* * *

Later that afternoon, a knock on the door to his study drew his attention from the war plans and the scrolls before him. He jerked his head up, a frown creasing his forehead.

“Who is it?”

“Flora.”

A sigh escaped his lips as Flora walked in. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and he could see specks of dirt and horsehair on her dress.

“Ye’re back.”

“’Twas a lovely ride. I didnae ken Ava had such skill with horses. Did ye?”

“Nay.” His response was quick.

He hoped it indicated that he was not exactly in the mood for a conversation, especially one about Ava. But it didn’t. If anything, it only encouraged his sister to probe further.

“Are ye goin’ to tell me what happened?” she started.

“What happened when?”

“Is that how ye want to play it?”

“Play what?”

“Ye ken what I’m talkin’ about, Brodrick. What happened between ye and Ava this morning?”

Brodrick waved his hand, his tone dismissive. “Oh, that? Ach, it was nothing.”

“It wasnae nothing.” Flora’s voice was sharp, indicating that she was not quite ready to drop the matter just yet.

“I dinnae ken what to tell ye.”

“Ye could start by tellin’ me the truth.”

Brodrick placed his hands on his desk and looked squarely at his sister. “How about ye tell me the truth for once.”

Flora furrowed her brow. “What are ye talkin’ about?”

“Dinnae play coy with me, Sister. It doesnae suit ye.”

“I would only play coy if I kenned what ye’re talkin’ about in the first place.”

“Darach,” he stated simply.

He immediately noticed the slightest change in her countenance. Something he probably would not have noticed if he had not paid full attention to her.

“How long has something been goin’ on between the two of ye?” he asked.

“What?” Flora spluttered, twin red spots blooming on her cheeks. Which, once again, did not go unnoticed by Brodrick.

“Ye ken I despise lies, Sister. The blush on yer cheeks tells me all I need to ken.”

“Ye dinnae ken anything. Nothing is goin’ on. At least nae yet.”

“ Yet? ”

“Dinnae even try to change the subject, Brodrick. I ken what ye’re tryin’ to do. Now, tell me, what did ye say to Ava?”

The despair returned to Brodrick’s voice, and judging from the way Flora kept looking at him, it had returned to his face as well.

“Nothing.”

“Nae nothing. She had the same look on her face that ye have now.”

“I said, nothing.” Brodrick’s voice was sharp, commanding, and almost harsh.

Flora sighed, throwing her hands up in frustration.

“I dinnae care what expression she has on her face. ‘Tis her problem. Nae mine.”

Flora nodded. “’Tis all right, I suppose. I can just remain in the dark, since nay one wants to tell me anything.”

Brodrick remained seated anyway, unmoved by her words.

“The Lairds are beginnin’ to arrive. And I’ve asked the maids to direct them to their rooms. I suppose I should tell ye that.”

Brodrick nodded.

The cèilidh would start soon. The more lairds were around, the easier it was to put his plan in motion. For now, he just needed to lie in wait and watch.

“I shall go see how the kitchens are gettin’ on.”

Brodrick only nodded.

He watched as his sister stood there, waiting as if he was planning on saying something else. As if he wanted to drop a confession on her. But he said nothing. He only gave her a pointed look that quickly turned irritated when she didn’t budge.

“I shall leave ye be, I suppose,” Flora muttered and turned around.

Brodrick watched in silence as she made her way back to the door. She pulled it open and stepped into the hallway. Right as she was about to shut the door behind her, she turned back and gave him one last look.

“I suppose I should tell ye this as well—Laird Moore is here.”

Brodrick’s eyes widened. “Laird Moore?”

“He’s in the Great Hall,” Flora added.

Brodrick leaned back in his seat as she closed the door behind her. For good this time.

He scanned the parchment on his desk one more time before rising. He did not think he was going to step out of his study anytime soon, but with Murdoch Blaine around, he had to sacrifice his brief solitude.

He needed to talk to him.

He took one last look at his study before heading out.

As his sister had said, Laird Moore was indeed in the Great Hall. He was seated at a table in the corner, his usual mask fastened to his face, watching the festivities. Brodrick sighed and walked closer to him, taking a few deep breaths.

“Murdoch Blaine,” he greeted, grabbing one of the chairs strewn across the hall.

Laird Moore looked up, his grey eyes studying him as he moved closer. “Brodrick Culloch,” he returned in a deep voice.

“Thank ye for comin’.”

Laird Moore sighed. “Ye ken I have nay choice. When Laird MacDunn calls, of course I have to answer.”

Brodrick nodded.

The man was right, of course. With everything that had happened over the past few years, Laird Moore would be quite insane not to heed his call. But again, he tried not to let it show.

“So, ye found her. Yer daughter.”

Brodrick nodded. “That I did.”

“Is the wee bairn all right? Did she suffer any injuries?”

“Nae so many, I am glad to say.”

A charged silence, punctuated only by the growing murmurs all around them, descended between them for a few seconds.

“I ken I’m nae here to ask after yer daughter,” Laird Moore said, his deep voice breaking the silence.

“That ye are nae.”

As the murmurs grew louder, they fell into conversation. They discussed the peace offer, how Murdoch had managed to maintain the truce with the other lairds, and the best course of action. They must have been talking for almost an hour because the heat of the sun began to recede and the air grew a bit cooler.

“Ye’re quite the enigma over at Castle Moore. Nobody dared speak of the madman who tore through villages lookin’ for his daughter,” Laird Moore commented.

“That is all behind me now,” Brodrick admitted. “What I’m lookin’ forward to now is findin’ the bastard who caused all of this in the first place and bringin’ him to justice.”

Laird Moore shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes scanning the hall for the briefest of moments.

“But who would do this?” he asked, his voice clipped. “Who would take a baby and kill a lady?”

Brodrick stared at him as if the question hadn’t also haunted him for years.

“I dinnae ken,” he said. “But I will find them, even if it is the last thing I do on God’s green earth.”

Laird Moore nodded. “I have the feeling that ye’re closer to doin’ it than ye think.”

Brodrick nodded, bracing his hands on the table. “I do as well.”

The cèilidh was all he needed, and this nightmare would be over once and for all.