Page 88 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance

“Good.” Breann stopped then, placing a hand on Esme’s arm. “From here, you go alone.”

Esme looked ahead. The woods thickened, trees standing close like silent sentinels, the light dimming beneath their snow-laden boughs.

“Follow the stream,” Breann instructed, pointing to where water still trickled, the air not cold enough to freeze it. “It will lead you to a stone crossing. Go over it, and in the woods beyond, you will find her there.”

Esme hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you. Will you be waiting here for me when I am done?”

“Nay,” Breann said, pulling her cloak tighter around her against the snow. “But your husband probably will be here since this is where Patrick will track us to, though neither man will know where to go from here.”

“You underestimate Torrance,” Esme said, though she meant Ryland, for she was sure Ryland would let nothing stop him from finding her and that thought lessened her worry.

With that, Breann turned and melted back into the snow and trees, leaving Esme to the silence and the path ahead.

The trees thinned just beyond the stone crossing, giving way to a small clearing blanketed in snow. At its center stood a crooked hut, its thatched roof hunched beneath the white weight of winter, a thin line of smoke curling from its chimney. Esme hesitated at the edge of the trees, her breath misting in the cold and her stomach roiling anxiously, then she stepped forward.

The door creaked open before she could knock.

“Finally, you respond to my summons,” the sharp voice said.

Esme’s breath caught as her eyes took in the familiar face of the old woman who spoke to her at Clan Rennoch emerged from the shadows of the doorway, the same sharp eyes gleaming and her long silver hair plaited neatly.

“You,” Esme whispered. “You were there…”

“I am always where I’m meant to be,” the Old Woman said, turning and leaving the door open behind her. “Come, lass, and shut away the cold behind you. We’ve words to speak.”

Esme stepped inside and closed the door. The warmth of a small fire greeted her, flickering beneath a blackened pot. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with herbs, bones, stones, and things that whispered of old magic.

Esme didn’t wait… she got right to the heart of the matter. “You summoned me. Why?”

“You have questions, and I have things to tell you,” the Old Woman said, settling on a bench at the table barely big enough for two. “Sit and pour yourself some chamomile tea to warm you.”

Esme kept her cloak on, too chilled, from the walk and snow to remove it. She gratefully filled a small tankard with tea, cupping it to warm her hands.

Esme spoke truthfully. “I have more questions than I can count, but I have been warned to listen and say little.”

“Bah,” the Old Woman said, dismissing her claim with a wave of her hand. “Spoken by the fearful and weak. You are neither. You have grown in courage and strength.”

“I have my share of fear and weakness,” Esme admitted.

“Most do, but few learn and grow from it like you have.”

Her words sunk deep, Esme realizing there was truth to her words.

“I will speak my piece and then you may ask questions,” the Old Woman said and took a swallow from her tankard before speaking. “Secrets run deep in Clan Purdom and deeper still inClan Glencairn. They’ve tangled themselves in lies so long, even the liars no longer know what’s true.”

Esme tightened her grip on her tankard, her heart pounding, waiting to hear more, to learn the secrets.

“Beware. Vengeance will bring you nothing,” the Old Woman warned, her gaze sharp. “What you need is truth. And truth lies with the one who was there. The one who saw it all.”

Questions rushed out of Esme. “Saw what? Tell me who it is and how I find this person?”

Before the old woman could answer, the door slammed open behind her, cold wind rushing in.

“Esme!”

She turned to see Ryland filling the doorway, fury and worry etched deep across his handsome face. His eyes snapped to the Old Woman.

Her lips curled in disdain. “I made it clear that I did not wish to speak with you.”

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