Page 69 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance

Esme got the sudden urge to put distance between them, the guttural growl that followed his threat reminding her of a time when Torrance warned her of the same. And it made her wonder about Torrance’s plan to get rid of her. How would he have done it? Would he have made her suffer?

“Quit your musing, wife, and pay attention to what goes on here,” Torrance barked, startling Esme.

Once again, she felt the tender squeeze at her waist, reminding her that she had nothing to fear. Though anotherrumble in her stomach, louder this time, continued to caution how hungry she was.

Habit had her answering, “Aye, my lord.”

“As for you, old man, my warriors are nearby and you will be the first I pass judgement on when I take over this village, unless your chieftain gives me good reason not to.”

Gasps and whispers circled the few gathered there.

“Your next words better hold the truth,” —Torrance’s glance turned harsh— “or I will make you suffer greatly.”

“Patrick is a stubborn old fool, the last of our warriors who looks to protect us, since we no longer have a chieftain to lead us,” said the woman who had spoken of being a peaceful village.

It struck Torrance then. “You are part of Clan Purdom.”

“Aye, a once fine and proud clan and still is—those left of us,” Patrick said, drawing his shoulders back as best he could.

“Then it is good I have come here. You are now part of Glencairn,” Torrance declared.

Esme felt a smile tempt her lips, but she kept them locked tightly. If it truly was Torrance speaking, she would worry for the clan, but knowing Ryland spoke, she knew he would see to their care. Not so Patrick, the old man.

“You don’t want to do that, my lord,” Patrick advised. “It is best you leave us alone.”

“And why is that, Patrick?” Torrance demanded.

“We are cursed, my lord, and the curse will only bring you misery and defeat as it has done us repeatedly.”

“That curse is about to be broken, Patrick. Now, my wife and I require someplace warm and food and drink,” Torrance ordered, having heard Esme’s stomach protesting its hunger and realizing it had been far too long since they last ate. “Then you will help me find what I seek.”

“What is that, my lord?” Patrick asked.

Torrance kept a steady eye on the old man to see how he would react. “I seek, Seann Bhean… the Old Woman.”

That brought silence so sharp it stung.

Then someone muttered, “Fool’s errand.”

Another said, “She’s no one’s friend.”

“She is an old woman who doesn’t mind her tongue, but healers revere her for her endless healing knowledge. Follow me to our meeting house where you will be provided with food and drink. I will have our healer fetched so you can ask her about the Old Woman.

“You are a good husband to see your wife fed,” Esme whispered as he turned his stallion to follow Patrick.

He wore a scowl as he cast glances at the villagers they passed by, and he whispered to Esme, “I am nothing like Torrance. Always remember that.”

Torrance bought the stallion to a halt in front of a shelter that appeared the size of two cottages placed end on end but had only one entrance.

Esme stretched her shoulders and back as soon as Torrance helped her off the horse. Not used to riding as much as she had done lately, her body ached.

“I will see we have a bed to sleep in tonight,” he said, his hand at her back, caressing it for a moment before guiding her toward the door.

She almost sighed aloud with how soothing his strong hand felt along her back. She nodded at his remark while thinking what it meant to share a bed with him now, knowing he was Ryland. He loved her and that made a difference.

The firepit in the center of the large room heated the area well. That the village didn’t have much was obvious by the sparse vegetable stew they were served, though it did fill and warm the stomach as did the hot cider. Along with that, four oat cakes were placed on the table in front of them and Esme wonderedwho would go without them, so the lord and his lady could be fed.

“Fill your stomach, wife, so I don’t have to listen to it rumble endlessly,” Torrance ordered, seeing his wife’s reluctance to touch the oat cakes.

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