Page 87 of Captured By the Cruel Highlander
Seeing Emily injured on the moorlands had been unpleasant. He remembered his frustration at his need to protect her right from the beginning. Even before he had known her, he had wanted to keep her safe.
Now, seeing the very real agony on her face when she had seen James’s ‘gift’ made his stomach churn.
He couldn’t bear seeing her unhappy, and it eclipsed everything else in his head. That fact alone was more dangerous than anything else he might face.
James Stewart, he could fight. Her father and brother, hewouldsave. But Emily was an unknown that he couldn’t predict.
What if all I do is bring her more misery and pain?
He glanced at the window behind him as shadows moved across the battlements above. He had doubled the number of men keeping watch, convinced that Stewart was on the move.
I was a fool to leave her family unprotected.
He growled low in his throat as his fingers tightened on the arm of his chair. There was no use sitting silently in the dark, ruminating on what had been. He had to plan for the worst and hope for the best, or else what sort of laird was he?
He rose, reluctant to wake up a servant at such an early hour, and piled logs high in the hearth and lit the fire himself. Oncethe flames were bright and plentiful, he set to lighting candles all around the room.
He didn’t want to sit in the dark anymore, mulling over events that he could neither predict nor change. He was a man of action, and he would strategize until dawn if need be.
“I must make this right,” he muttered as he lit the final candle and headed to his desk.
As soon as he sat down, however, he saw the box. It hadn’t been moved since their explosive argument only a few hours ago. He stared at it with a sickening feeling in his stomach.
He had seen a lot of battles and a lot of death in his life. But when Adam killed someone, it was swift and merciful. He would never prolong anyone’s pain for no reason.
Yet, James Stewart appeared to enjoy not only such a thing but to also taunt his prospectivebridewith the spoils. Adam had never wanted to kill anyone more.
He stared at the box, his anger rising to a fever pitch. Beneath it were letters from clan members, missives from his tenants, and endless reams of paper for him to deal with.
Yet, I can focus on nothin’, do nothin’ except worry about me wife.
With a snarl of enraged fury, Adam rose to his feet and swept both arms across the desk. Everything fell in a great flurry of papers, quills, and ink until it lay in shattered disorder over the floor.
In his anger, he’d dislodged a candle from the window ledge, and a small fire erupted on the edge of some sheets.
Running his fingers through his hair, he blew out a breath. Tendrils of smoke filled the room as he stomped the flames out.
Adam froze, suddenly realizing what he had done. He frantically searched the floor for the box. Finally, he found it lying on its side a few feet away from him, open and empty.
He swallowedand looked around the flagstones, his eyes finally landing on the offending finger, which lay on the dark stone—a grisly image of all his mistakes.
He knelt, gently picking it up with a grimace and wrenching the signet ring from the end, placing it in his pocket. He put the finger back in the box and made up his mind that he would deal with it appropriately. It could not lie rotting on his desk for days on end.
So he was now on his knees, in the rose garden, at five in the morning, digging frantically in the soil.
Once he had dug a hole deep enough with his dirk, he placed the box inside it and gently covered it with dirt. If he couldn’t honorthe man in person, he would at least have the decency to bury his finger where the crows couldn’t get to it.
As he patted down the dirt, he felt a fresh wave of rage at the danger that hung over their heads. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he was on his feet in seconds, dirk in hand, ready to kill anyone who dared disturb him.
“M’Laird,” the guard said respectfully, bowing low. “A letter was delivered earlier today—it has only just resurfaced.”
He handed the letter to Adam with another bow and returned to his post.
Adam watched him go, suddenly suspicious that James had sent some other horrors for him. However, when he looked at the handwriting on the letter, he realized it was from Laura.
He quickly went to the stone bench beneath his father’s statue. Urns of lighted oil had been placed in all four corners around the statue,and Adam was bathed in a gentle orange glow as he opened the letter with some eagerness.
Brother,
