Page 2 of The Highlander's Virgin Widow
“I’m nae blind, Rory.”
Before his man-at-arms could try to stop him or even say another word, Evander took a deep breath and hurried into the castle, swiping at the debris and ashes that stood in his way.
The fire grazed his skin, the wave of heat searing almost every part of his body. Shona’s room was on the first floor, but the fire had already reached the stairs and was licking at the wood ravenously.
Trying his best not to inhale the smoke, he ran up the stairs, his feet pounding against the burning floor, and toward the little boy’s room.
He covered his nose with his arm as he approached the door, resisting the urge to pause and watch how fire climbed up his walls.
He reached for the knob and grabbed it, yanking his hand away almost immediately as the heat scalded his palm. He took a step away from the door and, as hard as he could, slammed his heel against the knob. His boot crashed into the wood and sent the door flying.
Sure enough, Tommy was in the room, his eyes filled with tears as he huddled under a table.
“Tommy,” Evander called.
No response.
“Tommy.”
Still no response.
Without wasting any more time, he bent down and grabbed the boy from underneath the table.
Tommy’s burning clothes singed his skin as he ran out of the room, but he couldn’t put him down. A groan escaped his mouth as he flew down the stairs, the little boy hanging over his shoulder, smoke drifting from his clothes.
He ran toward the courtyard, the fire hot on his heels. Tommy’s burning clothes continued searing his skin and the space between his shoulder and arms. He kicked the door open and stepped into the courtyard, the cool afternoon wind sending relief down his spine.
He gently laid the boy on the cold grass, watching and waiting for him to respond.
“Tommy!” Shona shrieked, finally breaking free from Rory’s grasp.
As Evander brushed the ash and dust from his body, Shona reached for her son and grabbed as much as she could while avoiding his injuries. Evander watched closely and waited for him to respond.
He didn’t.
A wave of despair slowly crept over him. Shona’s screams grew louder, but her voice was practically swallowed by the roar of the fire in the background.
As he opened his mouth to speak, Evander caught a man running away from the castle and toward the fence.
“Ye!” he called, his voice loud and sharp.
The man, who must have heard him, stopped and turned around. The moment their eyes met, a chill slithered down Evander’s spine. They exchanged looks for almost two full seconds before the man turned on his heel and resumed running toward the fence.
“Stay here, Rory,” Evander ordered.
Before Rory could form a response, he took off again, his eyes steady and focused only on the man right ahead of him.
“M’Laird?!” he could hear Rory call from behind him, but he didn’t wait to listen or turn around.
His feet pounded across the forest floor as he ran in hot pursuit of the man, who remained within view, even if a little farther ahead. With his sword still in his hand, he swung at the gnarled branches and thick cobwebs in his way, not turning back or hesitating—not even once.
“Oi! Stop!” he bellowed.
The man refused to stop.
Evander quickened his pace as he noticed the man was beginning to slow down, growing tired. This was his chance to finally catch up.
In no time at all, he closed the distance between them, and right as the man was about to turn onto a dirt track, he caught on to him and kicked him right in the back.
