Page 2 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
“Sorry, sir, but Mister MacFerson is in the village of Glencoe, nay at Perth,” someone inserted.
“Glencoe, Perth, or the bloodymoon, get him, too,” he ordered.
“Aye, sir,” the man he had ordered to find Mister O’Cain dipped his head and hurried off, another to his brother and three of the soldiers agreed to go find the lass.
“I’m going too,” Ethan had been silent for the whole proceeding and finally spoke up even with pain thick in his throat. “I will nay be left out of this. He was me brother. I will be a part of avenging him.”
Giving his youngest son a nod of approval, Balgair turned to the rest, “Go with them, Ethan, and ye, Boyd, wait here for me letter to Mister O’Cain. The rest of ye, stand guard and make sure nay one moves a thing but get a cover and protect the body, so it’s easier for Mister O’Cain to dae his job. When I find who killed me son, the Devil will have to step aside and take notes what vengeance means.”
His ominous words sent a cold shiver down the spines of the men as they hopped to follow his orders. Ethan lingered and crouched down to gaze at his brother’s cold, graying face. His heart felt hollow and numb gazing at a face that he would never see again smiling in happiness or cross with agitation, or tired with his duties or lighthearted with his free time. Swallowing thickly, he vowed, “Ye will nay have to worry, brother, we will find who killed ye and bring them to justice. I swear on me life, we will revenge ye.”
1
The coals caught fire and Violet O’Cain smiled while blowing on the fire-steels before putting them back in the tinderbox. Going back to the table behind her, she lifted the cauldron of last night’s soup and put in on the fire to warm up for her and her father’s midday meal.
She dropped the cloth and went to sit on the stool near the window, gazing out into the long plains that made up their backyard and the structures that stood on them. She spotted the barn, where their two cows and sole calf lived, and the stables were their three horses were housed. There was a smokehouse and a shed for their animal feed.
She turned back to the kitchen and refocused her dark eyes over the dark stonework and wooden paneling. Her father had taken to adopting some English styles lately, and had men in and out modifying the home from an old rustic Scottish home into a modern one.
Thinking of her father, she smiled.
Dear old Father…the best investigator in Inverness. I’m glad he decided to retire.
At the sound of a hurried knock on the door a room away, she lifted her head and moved toward it. But her father’s stocky form got there first.
She twisted the dishcloth in her hands while he opened it. His thick graying brows furrowed at the person on the other side, “May I help ye?”
“Aye, are ye Mr. Stewart O’Cain, the investigator?” a thick northern accent asked. She felt a note of desperation in the speaker’s voice.
“I am. Why?” Her father's tone was suspicious.
“I am Boyd Graham. Me master, Laird of MacFerson, Balgair MacFerson, needs yer assistance, sir,” the man said. “It’s of a dire situation, sir, he needs yer help now.”
Violet sidled to the left where her father opened the door a little more so she could see the messenger. She saw a man, dressed in thick gray and green plaid over leather armor, hand him a letter. The man’s face had a grim set to his jaw and his expression was pallid.
Her father took the letter, and while he was opening it, asked. “Why does he need me?”
“His son, Finley MacFerson, was killed between last night and this morning and nay one had any inkling who did the deed. There were nay witnesses and nay signs of who might have carried him to the place we found him.” Boyd’s tone had deepened.
She stood still and watched her father’s brown deepen while he opened and read the letter. Then, he closed the letter and handed it back to Mister Graham. “I’d like to help ye and yer master, Mister Graham, but sadly I am retired.”
Soldier Graham’s face fell, then firmed. “I am instructed to stay here, sir. I cannae go back to me Laird empty-handed.”
“But I am—”
“Faither,” Violet said. “A moment, please.” She stepped further into sight so both men could see her. She aimed an apologetic smile to the man. “Excuse us a moment.”
“Violet?” Her father asked while closing the door. “What are ye doing?”
She rested her hand on her father’s shoulder. “I think we should take this case, Faither. I know ye gave it up a summer ago but this…he seems very distressed. Why can’t we help his master?”
Her father’s brown gaze was dimmed, “Because I am retired, Violet. I made it a point to give that life up. It was too dangerous for both of us.
Nodding understandingly, Violet gave her rebuttal. “I ken ye left the field, and the concerns about it being dangerous are important, but the man lost his son. If you lost me in any way, much less murder, wouldnae ye want to do all ye could to have some peace of mind?”
A shadow crossed over her father’s face. She held her breath, hoping he would change his mind, but he only sighed. “I would want to, aye, but I put that part of me life behind me.”
“I ken, Faither, but please, let us help this man with his son,” she pleaded. “It sounds too distressing for us to pass off.”
