Page 57 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance

The breath caught in Esme’s throat. “That man… isn’t he the one who rode into camp and warned of the second betrayal?”

“Aye, it is. Gavin.” The name left Torrance like a curse. “He rode with the group that took the lead to make sure no danger awaited us. He was ordered to return home and seek help.”

Esme’s stomach churned with fear. How many men had betrayed Torrance? Had any warrior gone home for help? Or were they completely on their own? Watching the easy familiarity between the two men below caused worry to churn her stomach.

The way Torrance’s grip whitened around the reins and how a storm brewed behind his eyes, she believed her husband was thinking the same.

“Is that Chieftain Eagan who Gavin speaks with, and do you think the chieftain is part of it all?” she asked.

“I don’t know, though from here it certainly looks that way” he said. “I’ll not ride into a place where betrayal might be welcomed with open arms.”

While the situation frightened her it also confused her, and she voiced the sudden thought that came to her. “Could it be that those who favored Ryland as the victor, now tries to turn defeat to victory for him?”

“Don’t be a fool, wife,” he snapped. “Anyone who shows Ryland any mercy knows the consequences of such folly.”

Her heart thudded, realizing this could be a chance, one more attempt to crack the mask he wore, if he wore one. She could see how he reacted to the mention of Ryland and how this might be more about him than Torrance.

She edged a bit closer to danger with her next remark. “What if there are those who believe Ryland is entitled to rule Clan Glencairn?”

He turned and looked at her and calmly, though firmly as if he was declaring it an edict, said, “Clan Glencairn will always be ruled by a rightful heir of Glencairn.” He grabbed hold of her chin. “And your duty is to produce one.”

And finally, there was a chance she would.

His hand fell away from her chin, and he turned his head, just slightly. The sharp line of his jaw was taut. His voice, when it came, was a low growl. “I will not beg for loyalty nor chase the favor of cowards. But any man who dares betray me, any man,” —he glared at her— “or woman who seeks to raise a hand against me, will know pain before he or she finds death.”

That he confirmed only a rightful heir would rule Clan Glencairn would be something her husband would say, something he and his father were adamant about. And she had heard Torrance say many times that no half-blood would ever have the title of Lord of Clan Glencairn. She had believed that it was part of the reason he went to war with Ryland. He wanted him dead, never able to lay claim to the title.

And why would Ryland even want it? He had his own clan and from what she heard he was content with no aspirations ofever ruling Clan Glencairn. So, why would she think it wasn’t Torrance who returned home to her but Ryland?

Torrance was different. There was no denying it. If he wasn’t Ryland, then what would have changed him? And would that change last?

“You would show no mercy?” she asked, though knew how her husband would answer.

He gazed at her then, not cold, not angry just… resolute. “Only a weak woman would ask such a foolish question. Mercy is wasted on traitors.”

She looked away, staring at the distant village, thinking she was losing her mind, and wondering if that was her husband’s plan all along. To drive her mad and be rid of her. Perhaps he already had a woman in mind for his next wife. But then why chance getting her with child?

He grabbed her chin again, fiery anger in his eyes that burnt out quickly and he rested his brow to hers. “No matter what happens, I will not see you harmed. I will keep you safe.”

That was it. He was trying to drive her mad and she, like a fool, was falling for it. One moment he was cruel, the next tender. She couldn’t let herself be tricked. She couldn’t fall into his trap, since she was sure death awaited her there. But how… how did she ever survive?

Torrance turned the horse away from Clan Stott and led them once again into the forest.

They had been ridingfor some time, clouds growing darker as they followed overhead. The air remained heavy, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. Each hoofbeat echoed in Esme’s ears, but still Torrance said nothing. The silence betweenthem had grown thick, stretched so taut she feared one word might snap it.

Esme kept her hands resting in her lap, having no desire to wrap her arms around him. Her worrisome thoughts continued to grow. She silently continued to berate herself for being so foolish. Torrance enjoyed laying a trap for people, though he more enjoyed the punishment he inflicted for being caught in one. She had seen him do it time and again. She should have realized it. She had dug her own grave.

Her voice broke the silence, soft and unsteady. “Where do we go now?”

Torrance’s grip on the reins tightened. He did not answer her, did not look at her.

Esme swallowed the lump rising in her throat and tried again. “Will we return home?”

Still, he said nothing.

“Or do we continue on to complete the mission?”

Her only response was a snort from the stallion.

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