Page 33 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance

Torrance sat, letting his cloak drop off his shoulders. He crossed his arms and kept his eyes sharp.

Esme sat beside him, leaving her cloak to fall around her, then rested her hands in her lap, easily detecting the brewing storm within her husband.

At last, a booming voice called out across the hall, “Ah! Torrance, you've made it. We had nearly forgotten we were expecting you!”

Chieftain Stuart stood at the far end of the high table, goblet in hand, and face flushed from drink and merriment. He lifted the cup in mocking toast before turning his attention elsewhere.

Torrance didn’t respond. He didn’t blink. He simply sat unmoved by music or mirth.

“Touch nothing,” he said to Esme without turning to her. “Eat nothing. Drink nothing. Something stinks here, and it isn’t the stew.”

She nodded, though her gaze wandered nervously over the crowd. Whatever warmth she had initially first felt upon entering the Great Hall was gone now, replaced with tension that wrapped like a tight cord around the room.

Time passed. Slow and watchful.

At last, Torrance summoned one of his warriors with a quirk of his finger and nodded at his wife. “Watch her.”

Then, without another word, he stood and made his way toward Stuart, easily cutting through dancers and jesters with the chill of his presence alone.

Esme remained seated, hands folded, back straight. She felt more than simply curious eyes on her but refused to meet them. She wished they could take their leave now. The music pressed at her ears. The fire was too hot. And?—

“Lady Esme.”

The voice was barely a whisper, yet sharp enough to pierce through the din. An old woman, her hair long and silver, herframe wrapped in dark wool, slipped onto the bench beside Esme without invite.

Esme’s eyes widened, instinct cautioning her not to call attention.

“He searches,” the old woman murmured. “He seeks answers long buried beneath blood and vengeance.”

Esme’s breath caught. “Who are you?”

“A friend of truth. Listen well, what he seeks lies two days’ ride from Clan Glencairn. But he cannot go alone.” The woman’s eyes—one pale, the other a stormy gray—fixed on Esme’s. “You must go with him if secrets are to be revealed.”

Before Esme could ask more, the old woman rose and vanished into the crowd as swiftly as she’d come.

Esme sat frozen, heart hammering in her chest, her glance hurrying to find Torrance. She kept her eyes on him eager to tell him of the old woman and worried for what might be brewing here.

Torrance approached the high table with unhurried steps, his expression unreadable. The noise of the hall masked his approach well enough that Stuart was startled slightly when Torrance appeared at his side.

“You dishonor your guest,” Torrance said, his voice low, clipped. “No greeting. No proper place at the table. Is that how you show your respect for one who you will claim allegiance to?”

Stuart leaned back in his chair, a smug smile curling at his lips. “I pledge allegiance to no man. It is others who will pledge allegiance to me.”

Torrance leaned closer, so only Stuart could hear. “You have always been a fool, but this… this is different. There’s something foul in this hall. You’ve made a mistake thinking I wouldn’t notice.”

He let his gaze sweep slowly over the revelers. His stare paused on a serving girl too stiff in her posture. A man laughingtoo hard at nothing. The flick of eyes from corner to corner as if waiting for a cue. And he saw that no other chieftain in the area was present. A deep, bone-honed instinct took hold, and he knew… the celebration was a mask.

He didn’t bother to bid farewell. He turned and walked away.

Stuart raised his cup, keeping his smile fixed. “Leaving so soon?”

Torrance gave a small nod to one of his warriors across the room. Without hesitation, the man slipped quickly toward the door, vanishing through it like a shadow.

Torrance hurried toward his wife, the crowd seeming thicker than only moments ago. He needed to get Esme out of here quickly.

He barely took a few steps.

“You’re not going anywhere, Torrance?” Stuart bellowed, his voice booming over the music.

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