Page 29 of Highlander Redeemed
Jeanette looked up at her and took a deep breath. “It seems likely, but the Targe has not claimed her.” She pointed at the first two symbols. “’Tis not unlike what I found on the grotto stone when I was claimed as Guardian, yet she says nothing happened when she found this.” She stood, took the lantern from Rowan, and walked around the drawings slowly, moving the light around to cast the shadows in different ways. “I still have found nothing to explain what the broken arrow means,” she said, “or what gift it represents, but then I have not discovered such information for your symbol either.” She reached for the lantern and held it over the jumbled-together symbols. “This looks as if each symbol was overwritten, perhaps with the passing of each Guardian?” She moved the lantern back and forth for long minutes, once more examining every line Scotia had scratched in the dirt. “’Tis hard to tell if the order they appear is simply from the way she drew them or if they appear in that same order on the stone. Tomorrow I must have her draw these on a parchment for me, and I can ask her more about them then. I will search the Chronicles of the Guardians to see if I can discover more about the Story Stone, though I do not remember seeing any reference to it before.”
“It does seem there is something important we must understand here,” Rowan said, trying not to let her frustration show in her voice. She did not want to put more pressure on Jeanette than her cousin already put upon herself to understand this new situation of two Guardians ... or perhaps three.
“Aye, it does. It feels as if this is a key of some sort. I just wish I knew what lock it opened.”
THE NEXT MORNINGDuncan chewed upon a fresh bannock while he waited for Scotia to join him to break her fast. Apparently he was not the only one awaiting her. Conall sat on the ground, his back to the outcropping of the ben that formed the mouth of the communal cave where Scotia and many of the other women slept. Conall tried not to draw attention to himself, but Duncan was not fooled.
Conall had not approached Scotia last night, with all her kin about her. Of course she and Duncan had been questioned first by Nicholas and Malcolm, and then Scotia had been taken to the council circle to tell the Guardians about the symbols she had discovered, so the lad had not had a moment to get her alone, if he was daft enough to try, given the promise he’d made to Nicholas. But this morning while most of the clan still slept, Conall was conveniently awake and situated such that he could claim to simply be enjoying the morning air, while being strategically positioned to see Scotia the moment she left the cave. Perhaps the lad wasn’t as daft as Duncan thought he was.
Conall looked up and caught Duncan staring at him. He quickly looked away as if something near the council circle drew his attention. Duncan was not fooled, nor was he amused.
When the lass appeared a few minutes later, she strode out of the dark maw of the cave and made directly for the cook circle and Duncan without even noticing Conall. The young man leapt to his feet and followed her. Duncan did not move, nor say anything, only handing a bannock to Scotia as she joined him on the log near the cook circle.
“Good morn,” Conall said. He slowed his pace as he neared them. Scotia looked up but only nodded. “Are there more bannocks?”
Duncan pointed to a pile of them on the far side of the fire, where Peigi had left them to warm. He tried to ease the tension in his muscles, tried to breathe slowly and deeply, tried to talk himself out of the grip of possessive anger that the young man ignited in his gut. Conall had no claim on Scotia. Hell, he’d be a right wee dafty if he even wanted a claim on the difficult, mercurial lass. And yet ...
He closed his eyes and counseled himself to be patient, to see what Scotia would do.
A rustling sound had him slowly opening his eyes.
Conall had seated himself near Scotia, but Scotia was paying him no attention.
“How fare you?” Conall asked.
She nodded, but did not look at him. “Well enough.”
As well as Duncan could usually read Scotia, he could not tell if she was feigning indifference toward the lad who, not long ago, had been the focus of her every thought for months, or if she really had left her infatuation behind.
“I am sorry I did not come here sooner,” Conall said pitching his voice so low it was hard for Duncan to make out the words. Conall leaned forward and braced his arms on his knees. “My mum needed me, but as soon as I settled her with my uncle near Loch Awe, I joined Dermid and came to fight the English.”
“I understand,” Scotia replied, glancing up at him. “She is well?”
“Aye.”
Duncan was swinging between satisfaction that this conversation was so stilted and mistrust, doubting that it would have been stilted at all if he had not been sitting next to her. But he said nothing.
After a long, uncomfortable silence. Scotia stood, brushed the bannock crumbs from her skirts, and gave him a look that spoke louder than words that she knew what he was up to. With a smirk,she headed off into the wood as she did every morning, stopping only when she got to the head of the path. She turned then, her face covered in feigned innocence.
“Are you not following me this day, Duncan? If you let me get too far ahead of you, you might not find me before I get myself in trouble.” There was just an edge of mirth in her taunting words, and Duncan knew he was in for a long day of teasing.
Conall started to his feet but Duncan beat him to it, pinning him down with a scowl. “If you value your hide, you’ll not follow her today or ever again.”
To Conall’s credit, he sat down with a quick nod and returned his attention to his meal.
DUNCAN FOLLOWEDSCOTIAand her trilling laughter down the ben while he cleared his mind of the myriad emotions the lass always managed to stir up in him, though if he was honest with himself, the emotions were easy to rouse. But today, all her mirth and attention had been focused on him. She’d all but purred like a kitchen cat as she gave Conall her indifference, as if she knew Duncan was waiting for her to reveal her true feelings for the lad.
Was it herknowingthat gave her such insight? Curiosity and a hunch had him catching up to her quickly, as a plan for the day’s training took hold of him.
“You ken there is more to being a warrior than sword fighting, aye?” he asked her as he matched his stride to hers.
“Of course. There is running, and climbing over things, strength, finesse, dirks, targes, strategy—”
“Aye, strategy. You have thisknowing.”
“But I cannot call upon it at will.” She stopped suddenly as she spoke, and he had to backtrack.
“But still, you have it,” he said, coming to a halt in front of her. “So let us figure out how it might be used. What do we know about it?”
