Page 49 of Her Highland Prophecy
“I’ll have you know that I was very helpful with the preparation of the berries. We were almost done when the messenger ran up to tell me thatyouhad been hurt.”
“A Sassenach Princess turned cook. Who could have ever had imagined it?” he teased again.
“Not hardly,” she scoffed. “I think I will need many, many lessons before I reach that point.”
“And will ye be here long enough to do that?” he asked looking over at her. The question startled her. He turned her hand over and started caressing the fingers that she had been running up his arm.
He tugged on her fingers until she sat on the edge of the mattress. She allowed him the motion, her mind preoccupied with what he could have meant with his words.
She could feel the same energy from the previous night surrounding them. She looked up and his green eyes bored into hers. Was he getting closer? His eyes pierced through her and he could almost read the question there:
Why did you pull back?
With his accident so fresh in her mind her reasons for pulling back seemed even more valid.
This had never been part of the bargain. She was supposed to fake being his betrothed for a few weeks while gaining the Clan’s protection as she waited. Sleeping cuddled up on the ground with his body curled close behind hers and almost kisses in dark hallways had never been part of the plan.
Then why did she want it so badly? It hurt to reject him when he tried to get close to her like that. He must have felt the connection between them too, but he seemed much more ready than her to accept it.
She looked away from his intense gaze and sensed his disappointment in the sigh he let out. He leaned back into his pillows, his eyes looking straight up into the canopy.
“I think I’d best let you get some rest,” she whispered into the silence. What else could she say at this point?
“Aye, that isnae a bad idea,” he said. She didn’t know how to decipher what she heard in his voice. Hurt maybe? But was it his feelings or his pride that she had hurt?
She stood from the bed and walked away, heart heavy. As she reached the door, she paused with her hand on the knob.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She did not wait for his response as she exited into the corridor.
* * *
The next day dawned bright and early. The clouds of the previous day had disappeared from the sky, leaving behind the sort of warm sunny day that one rarely found on the Scottish Highlands.
And yet, inside his room, Gordain felt as unsettled as if a storm had been ravaging the Clan’s land.
The object of his worry seemed innocuous at first glance. A small piece of parchment with three rows of precise writing of black ink. Two simple sentences that changed everything.
He didn’t need to look at it again. Ever since he woke up to find it tucked half beneath his pillows, he had looked at it so many times that the words were burned into his mind.
The arrow was yer first warning.
If ye and yer father do nae change course,
the next time I will nae miss.
His fists clenched in rage. He refused to be cowed by some coward who wouldn’t even look at him in the face to deliver his threats. He was the son of the Laird and whoever dared send such a message would pay dearly.
He stood gingerly, feeling lightheaded as his feet hit the ground. He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath to steel himself and stood, looking around for his clothes. He carefully tucked his kilt around him and ventured out into the Castle. Taking care to avoid the main paths, he had soon reached the yard and escaped into the surrounding forest.
Thankfully, his destination was not far. A small cottage lay just at the foot of the hill, its thatched roof so low that he had to stoop to knock on the door.
“Come in,” a deep voice said from within and Gordain pushed the door and ducked into the room.
The inside was as simple as the outside. A long rectangular space with a bed in one corner and a table near a hearth on the other. The man he had been hoping to speak with sat at the table, his black hair almost invisible in the gloom surrounding him.
“Gordain,” he said, his voice laden with confusion. “What are ye doing here?”
Gordain took the parchment out of his sporran and placed it in front of the man who carefully picked it up.
