Page 54 of Married to the Ruthless Highlander
Cloak flapping, stumbling over the roots and dense patches of moss that were allied to Doughall, the man stood no chance of outrunning his pursuer.
With all the power in his arm, Doughall hurled his lance. It whistled past the fleeing man’s shoulder and landed on the soft earth a short distance ahead of him, the shaft quivering. The man did not have the opportunity to slow down, running straight into the thick stick. It held, knocking the man back and giving Doughall the seconds he needed to catch up to him.
“On yer knees, ye bastard,” Doughall seethed, bringing his horse to a halt in front of the man.
The trembling figure pulled back his hood and sank to his knees, holding his hands up. “I didnae take nothin’. I didnae poach nothin’. I was just… gatherin’ mussels. Me bairns need to eat. I swear, I didnae take aught.” He flinched. “Maybe I snared a couple of rabbits, but only so that me bairns wouldnae starve.”
Doughall was barely listening to the man’s pleas, disappointment simmering in his chest. The man in front of him was not James Stewart’s man-at-arms. Lewis Brown was a burly bear of a man with a grizzled face, not a wiry heron of a man like this one.
“Hold yer tongue,” he barked. “Take the rabbits and take this.”
He took out his coin pouch and threw a couple to the needy man, who lunged for the money with dirty, bloody hands. The sharp edges of the mussels had obviously given the man some trouble, cutting his fingers.
“Thank ye!” the man gasped, clutching the coins to his chest. “Och, thank ye!”
Doughall eyed him. “It’s nae for nothin’, and I’ll give ye more on this day next week if ye put yerself to good use.”
“Anythin’, M’Laird,” the man replied, evidently familiar with who Doughall was. “Anythin’. Ye name it, I’ll do it, if it means I can feed me family.”
Doughall nodded toward the water at his back. “Watch this loch and the forests around it for any sign of Lewis Brown. Do ye ken the man?”
“I dinnae, M’Laird.”
“Aye, well, ye’ll ken him if ye see him. Tall, robust, looks like he could toss ye bodily with one hand, dark red hair, might have a beard to match. Cruel eyes. Ye’ll nae mistake him,” Doughall replied. “Dinnae approach him, but if ye see him, come to MacGordon Castle and ask for me.”
The man nodded eagerly. “I will, M’Laird. I swear it, I’ll watch out for him like a hawk.”
“See that ye do. And ye have me permission to hunt the rabbits.”
Doughall nudged his horse back into a walk, stepping past the man and back the way he had come, to where Ersie awaited him.
“Nae Lewis?”
Doughall shook his head. “Nay, but he’s out there.” He cast his sharp gaze over the molten surface of the loch to the armies of trees beyond, the light not yet bright enough to see any hidden lurkers. A shiver beetled down his spine. “I can feel him.”
21
Head brimming with incredible visions ofThe Blazing World,dizzy with awe at the creativity of the author, and more than a little delighted that Doughall had chosen such a book for her, Freya breezed down to the family hall to break her fast.
Recently, she had been having her breakfast in her chambers, but that morning felt like the perfect time to begin a new routine.
And if Doughall happens to be there—all the better.
She could thank him for leaving such a precious gift—the book and the promised key—and perhaps think about coaxing another emotion out of him. Embarrassment, maybe. The shy, endearing kind, experienced in the face of effusive gratitude.
But when she walked into the family hall, where the small table was set for breakfast, only one person was sitting there.
“Freya! What a lovely surprise,” Isla said, gesturing to the chair beside her. “Truly, I thought I would be breakin’ me fast alone this mornin’, so I’m grateful for the company.”
Freya hesitated. “Is nay one else awake yet?”
“Och, yer maither, braither, and yer braither’s wife have been and gone. I believe they went to the nearest town to make weddin’ preparations.” Isla patted the chair next to her more insistently. “Me husband has ventured to his beloved distillery, and Doughall took off late last night with Ersie and a few others.”
Freya did not move to take a seat. “Took off where?”
“I wouldnae ken, dear lass,” Isla replied with an apologetic grimace. “But I’d wager it was important if he took his best men with him.”
He couldnae have written that he was goin’ somewhere?
