Page 72 of Sweet Home Highlander
How could she have left him to meet another man? The idea of it made him senseless with rage. He could not have gone back to sleep after he’d returned to Maclaren. No, instead, he’d ridden west to MacLeod and woken a sleepy Hamish for a bruising round of fisticuffs. Niall had wanted to be knocked unconscious so he wouldn’t have to pay attention to the void yawning inside of him and threatening to swallow him whole.
Always one to oblige, Hamish had given him a pounding.
“Is it the lass?” he’d asked.
Niall had been forced to smash him in the jaw for that one. “Nae,” he’d hissed, dodging the weight of Hamish’s hammer-like fists.
“Ye’re too spitting mad for it to be anything else.” A low, hard jab caught Niall square in the stomach, making him nearly lose his footing. “And it’s too bloody early.”
“She’s leaving Scotland.”
Hamish had laughed. “Came to her senses, aye? Always thought she was too good for the likes of ye.”
The taunt had met its mark. She’d always been too good for him, clearly. So good that she’d sought satisfaction elsewhere. Or maybe all she’d wanted to do was win the wager. Get him into her bed and then call the victory. Hell, if that were the case, she’d well and truly bested him. He hadn’t even known he’d been the one being seduced. Pride and anger reared up within him, making him see red. “Shut yer gob and fight, ye sack of shite.”
And Niall had fought with a vengeance then, like a possessed man, so much so that Hamish had yielded after several punishing bouts, his eyes wide with disbelief that Niall still wanted more. Even Hamish’s considerable pugilistic skills hadn’t been enough to flatten the demons surging to life in his brain…tormenting him, laughing at him.Heached, but they hadn’t felt a damned thing.
After riding back to the keep, Niall had tried to throw his energies into working in his carving studio, but clearly, that had also failed, leaving one other option. Walking into his study, he reached into the drawer of his desk for the bottle of whisky that was usually there, forgetting that he’d thrown it into the fireplace. He hadn’t bothered to replace it. He sank into the chair behind the desk and kneaded his head.
The castle had been quiet when he arrived home, and he’d been grateful Fenella had not been waiting for his return, eager to gloat about Aisla. He didn’t want to speak of her, not ever again. Had she even left yet? Would he know if she did? Taking all her light with her?
Enough, Niall. It’s over.
The pain roiled anew in his gut, and he nearly doubled over from the force of it. Niall doubted his body could go another round with Hamish, but if that was what it took, he would brave it. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, then scrubbed a restless hand through his hair. Perhaps a swim in the loch would take the edge off. A long swim, clear to the other side. And back.
“Laird,” a footman said. “There’s a gentleman here to see ye.”
Niall’s eyes narrowed. Agentleman? “Show him in.”
It took everything within him to not jump the expanse of his desk like a wild animal and lay the man who entered flat on his arse. As it was, he rose, his fingers nearly cracking the solid mahogany edge of the desk. “Ye risk a lot coming here, Leclerc,” he snarled in warning before prowling to the other side of the desk.
“Makenna is missing.”
About to blister the man for his familiar address, Niall halted in his tracks. “What do ye mean she’smissing?”
Leclerc didn’t appear any more put together than he did earlier, at the folly, and now a hint of frenzied panic lit his eyes. “She takes early morning rides, and the stableboy at Maclaren just informed me that her mount returned on its own to the keep.”
A drip of unease slipped into Niall then. “She’s a competent horsewoman, but the animal still could have thrown her. I’ll get a group of men together and set out.”
Leclerc raised a hand to stay him. “There is more. I spoke to Pauline, Aisla’s maid. She said your housekeeper visited Aisla’s bedchamber this morning and said some concerning things.”
Niall nearly growled. “I dunnae wish to discuss her with ye. Thank ye for yer concern over my sister, but ye can take yer leave now.”
“Don’t be a stubborn fool.” The Frenchman had the nerve to stalk toward him, his mouth tightening into a scowl. “What your housekeeper said may involve Lady Makenna.”
Niall forced himself to calm, and listen. If only for Makenna’s sake. He folded his arms across his chest and nodded curtly for the man to continue.
“Apparently, the lady has had…relations with Dougal Buchanan, and during that time, shared information with him. About Aisla and Makenna among other things.”
Fenella and Dougal? Niall hadn’t even known the two were acquainted. His ears started to ring, his body on alert as his mind turned over the things the Frenchman was saying.
“Ye think he has something to do with Makenna’s horse coming back alone?” he asked.
Leclerc nodded, his lips a grim line. “As you’ve said, she’s a competent horsewoman. Either she’s taken an innocent fall or something more sinister is at play here.”
A sudden thought all but stopped Niall’s pulse. “Where is Aisla?”
“I don’t know, Pauline said she went to find you.” Leclerc swore under his breath. “You haven’t seen her?”
