Page 32 of Captured By the Cruel Highlander
Emily examined the noble expression on the horse’s face, the sinewy muscles carved into the stone. “Why?” she asked, at last.
“Och, because he was angry with our faither,” Freya said dismissively, but Emily could detect the pain in her voice. “He is angry with me maither, too. She was the one who convinced Faither to go to war, ye see. He was constantly fightin’, always trying to expand our territories. By the end, me faither could start a fight with another laird because of the length of the other man’s kilt.”
“Why did yer braither want to remove it, though?” Emily asked.
“Me faither was strong and brave, but nae where Adam believes it matters. A laird’s place is with his people—with his clan. Me faither prioritized me maither’s wishes to the detriment of his own people. That’s how Adam sees it. Many members of our clan are struggling. We expanded too fast, and Adam regularly travels far and wide to keep the peace.”
“That must be a burden,” Emily said.
“I shouldnae be tellin’ ye this really. It’s funny; I feel I’ve kenned ye for years even though we’ve only just met.”
Emily laughed. “I feel the same,” she admitted, for she was already very fond of Adam’s wayward sister.
She could only imagine what a hellion Laura must be and what the two of them would be like together.
“How did ye feel about yer faither bein’ gone so frequently?” Emily asked. “If that’s nae a rude question.”
Freya’s eyes flicked back to the pegasus as she contemplated the question. “I suppose it was the way of things. It didnae have as much impact on me. Adam was different, however. He was expected to make choices on behalf of the Laird, and he and our maither disagree more than they agree.”
“Does she have much influence with the council?”
“She used to, but she has been grievin’. She blames herself for me faither’s death. He wouldnae have gone to that final battle if she hadnae encouraged it. I think he was ready for peace.”
She fell silent as Emily considered everything that Adam had been through. If his father had been absent for much of his life, he would have been thrown into politics and clan decisions from a very young age. He would have had to fight tooth and nail as a young man to win the council’s respect.
“Och, he’s back again,” Freya muttered suddenly.
Emily looked up to see someone arriving on horseback in the main courtyard. He was a big man, almost as broad-chested as Adam, but his frame and hair were longer. He had sharp eyes and an angry, brooding expression.
“Who is he?” Emily asked.
“Thatis Doughall Scott, Laird MacGordon,” Freya muttered, her brow furrowing as she watched him. “Adam must have sent for him. He is the closest thing me braither has to a friend.” Her expression darkened. “But I’m nae sure if MacGordon is capable of friendship.”
They neared the archway as they completed their circuit of the gardens and stepped into the courtyard again. MacGordon spotted them instantly.
His eyes ran over Freya briefly before he frowned at Emily. He dismounted without saying a word, but his eyes lingered on them thoughtfully. Freya was frozen in place and didn’t smile at him. After a few more seconds, he stalked into the castle.
“Do ye ken him well?” Emily asked.
Freya scoffed. “Nae a chance of that. If he speaks three words to me, it’s a miracle. If ye think Adam can be overbearin’, he has nothin’ on Scott, believe me.”
There was something slightly off in her tone, however. Emily couldn’t make out whether the woman disliked the man or was pretending to.
“Come on,” Freya continued. “I’ll take ye to the cliffside. It’s a beautiful day—we can walk along the edges, where the ground is firmer. We just might have to watch out for the skuas—they’re nestin’ and like to dive at ye. Their beaks are mighty sharp.”
“Make sure he is with ye at all times.”
The maid looked at the letter Adam had handed her with trepidation. Behind her, a soldier was waiting to accompany her.
Adam glanced up at the man. “Make sure that she is never left alone, and bring her back safely. Dinnae let anyone intercept this letter under any circumstances.”
The soldier saluted him as the maid turned and walked to stand at his side.
“Ye will likely be followed,” Adam added. “Watch yerself.”
“Aye, M’Laird,” the soldier responded.
The maid didn’t look any happier as they made their way out of the castle, but at least Adam could guarantee that the letter would arrive intact. He wondered if he had lost his senses tobe sending it at all, but apparently, one plaintive look from his intended was enough to topple his defenses.
