Page 60 of The Highlander's Twisted Deal
Callum threw the reins to a stable lad and went straight to the Great Hall, looking for his aunt.
“Perhaps she’s lost in the forest,” Elsie was saying desperately. “And all we have to do is find her.”
Niamh shook her head. “Ye ken Ava, lass. She willnae simplyget lost. She never gets lost. Besides, it’s just one straight road to Keep MacLennan. She kens the way, and—” She saw Callum approach, and her face lit up with desperate hope. “Me Laird, did ye find her?”
Callum swallowed hard, closing his eyes. “She never made it to Keep MacLennan,” he said brusquely, keen to get the bad news over with as quickly as possible. “There was no sign of her on the road.”
Niamh let out a moan, her knees crumpling underneath her. Elsie was at her side in an instant, grabbing her arm and easing her down onto the stone flags.
“Where is she, then?” Moira asked, baffled.
Callum snatched up a pitcher of water from a table, draining it in long, deep swigs.
“I ken who has her,” he breathed, feeling ice-cold water slide down his gullet. “It’s Patrick McCarthy, and I’m going to gut him for it.”
Niamh gave a strangled cry, pressing a hand to her mouth. “He’ll kill her,” she gasped. “He’ll kill her!”
“Not if I have much to say about it. Aunt Moira, ask them to fetch me horse and a few soldiers—as many as can be spared. We’re going to Keep McCarthy.”
He turned to stride out of the room, but then his aunt was in the way.
“Ye are doing nothing until dawn,” she said firmly. “Ye need rest, food, drink, and yer poor horse surely needs the same if ye rode it to Keep MacLennan and back overnight.”
“There’s nay time for that. Ava might be dead already.”
“In which case, there’s nothing to be gained by acting hastily.”
Callum stared down at his aunt, his throat working. “This woman is me betrothed, Auntie. Do ye care nothing for her? Do ye not want her avenged?”
Moira pressed her lips together. “Of course, I do. But we must go about this the right way, lad. Wait until yer uncle is up and about.”
“Where is he?”
“Still abed, still ill. I havenae disturbed him all night, but I’m sure he’ll be himself again in the morning. Here is what we will do. At daybreak, we’ll send a message to Laird McCarthy. We’ll make it clear that she is to be returned, unharmed, or else it’s war. We’ll tell him that she is yer betrothed, and as such, an insult to her is an insult to all of us. We’ll see what he says, eh?”
Callum wanted to scream and throw things, but he hadn’t the energy. Without his aunt’s help, he doubted he could mobilize soldiers by himself, not with all of his strength drained as it was.
“Very well,” he answered dully, and she smiled tightly, reaching up to touch his cheek.
“Get some sleep, lad.”
Callum climbed the stairs, up and up in tight circles, until the narrow staircase opened up onto the bare, windswept parapets at the top of the walls. It was an oddly spiteful thing to do, since his aunt had told him to rest. Heshouldbe resting, but how could he sleep when Ava was in Patrick McCarthy’s hands?
A few sentries wandered about on the roof, shooting him curious glances, but they kept their distance. The sky above them was still midnight blue, with only a lighter blue at the horizon indicating that dawn would still be here.
He rested his elbows on the rough stone of the wall, idly scanning the horizon. Dark forests spread out all around them, and thick mist gathered in the fields and valleys, pooling like water.
And then, a glimmer of light caught his eye. Frowning, Callum craned his neck, but the trees shifted in the breeze, obscuring his view.
I need to get higher.
After a moment’s unsuccessful peering, Callum reached the end of his patience. He hauled himself nimbly up onto the parapet, about as thick as a man’s arm from elbow to fingertip. He stood upright, the roof behind him and the dizzying drop from the top of the Keep walls in front of him.
The sentries gave shouts of alarm and came scuttling towards him, wary and whispering urgently between themselves. One of them, Lachlan, disengaged himself from the pack and strode towards Callum. He slept badly, Callum knew, and often stood a night watch.
“What are ye about to do, Me Laird?” he asked coolly. “It’s a fair drop.”
“Hush,” Callum said, not looking at him. “I need to see.”
