Page 72 of A Virgin for the Icy Highlander
Hunter heard the faint hiss of a blade being stealthily drawn and promptly released the innkeeper, who slumped back onto his bed.
Whirling around, lithe as a dancer, Hunter had his own blade drawn in half a second before thrusting outward with perfect precision. The sharp point stopped exactly at the Adam’s apple of his would-be ambusher.
The familiar man before him swallowed uneasily.
“I heard a ruckus,” Trevor said as he lowered his sword and put his other hand up in a gesture of surrender. “I came down to help.”
Anger pulsed behind Hunter’s eyes, a red mist descending. One slow push of his arm and the blade would cut right through Trevor’s throat like butter… and Hunter might never know where this bastard had hidden his daughter.
“Where is she?” he seethed.
His grip on his sword was so tight that veins bulged up his arm.
Trevor frowned. “Who?”
“Dinnae play the fool,” Hunter growled. “Ye took me daughter. Ye took her from me castle, and ye mean to steal her back to yer own. There’s nay one else she would have willingly followed,though I dinnae ken why she’s got a lick of fondness for ye. Ye didnae do aught to help her.”
Trevor’s frown deepened. An unexpected expression of panic tensed the muscles in his face, and a muscle twitched at his temple. “Laird MacLogan—Hunter, if I may—I meant what I said when I saw ye today. Imeantme apology to ye, for the misunderstanding. I sent the wrong men. I sent men who were still thirsty for war. They were supposed to send a message of peace, nae revenge. There was a… gift that I sent with them. A necklace that belonged to me maither, for Ellie to have. Me maither always said it gave her peace, and I thought it fitting. They werenae supposed to attack ye, Hunter. The man who came back has been dealt with.”
“I dinnae believe a word that comes out of yer lyin’ mouth,” Hunter rasped, though he wasn’t so certain.
A nagging feeling tickled the back of his mind.
The fear in the man’s eyes was too convincing, and not the sort of self-preserving fear he shouldhave felt with a blade to his throat either. It was the kind of fear that confusion stirred to the point where Hunter could almost hear the rusty cogs turning in Trevor’s head.
“I’m nae me uncle, Hunter,” Trevor insisted, dropping his sword entirely. The metal clattered onto the floorboards. “I never agreed with any of his decisions, but I didnae say aught because I kenned he’d kill me if I argued. Kill me like he killed me faither.”
Hunter hesitated.
I was right?
“Me uncle didnae want anyone who wasnae his child to inherit his lands and titles. I suspect I’m only alive now because me cousin died and there was nay one left whocouldinherit the Lairdship in the end. I was the last resort.” Trevor raised his now-empty hand, surrendering completely. “The war was stupid, though I can at least understand whyyewere fightin’. I never wanted to hurt ye or Ellie. The necklace was supposed to be an olive branch, the start of a true accord between us. Me hope was that, eventually, I could offer an alliance, so I’d be able to see Ellie more often. It’s why I stayed here in Ayrford. I planned to visit again once tension eased—at yer castle, where ye’d be more comfortable havin’ such a discussion.”
The ground felt unsteady beneath Hunter’s feet. All his suspicions and assumptions lost their solidity, shaking him at the foundations. If the former Laird MacRannockhadkilled Trevor’s father, then he had even less reason to continue the man’s vendetta. Then, there was the matter of why seeing Ellie in Trevor’s arms had irked him so much. It was because the girlhadseemed to adore her ‘Uncle,’ and he had seemed to adore her in return.
But that’s reason enough to take her, is it nae?
“I helped raise her since she was a bairn,” Trevor continued, his voice soft with fondness. “I would’ve continued to care for her, if me uncle hadnae forbade it once she started to developan attachment to me. I was only permitted to see her here and there, and it broke me heart. Ye cannae ken how many times I considered stealin’ her out of that castle and bringin’ her to ye—the faither who was fightin’ a bloodywarto get her back, while her grandfaither couldnae so much as look at her without turnin’ his nose up.”
Hunter swallowed thickly, hating that he was starting to believe this man. “She’s nae here?”
“I havenae seen her since I said farewell earlier today,” Trevor replied in earnest. “But I swear it; I have always wanted her to be with her faither. I still do. She deserves a good life with someone who fought so hard for her. And I saw how yer bride cares for ye both; she will cherish the lassie.”
Hunter shook his head. “But what ye said to Grace…”
“It came out wrong,” Trevor replied, grimacing. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it, smackin’ me head. When I said I hoped she was luckier than me cousin, I meant… I hoped she’d be happy with ye, that she’d get to live in peace with ye. Iwouldnaetake Ellie from ye, Hunter.”
He slowly lowered his hand and fished for something in his pocket. What he drew out glinted in the moonlight that streamed through the chamber window. He held a necklace with a pendant of smooth, bluish-green stone. With it, there was a folded square of paper.
“This is what I meant to send ye,” he said. “The peace treaty isnae finished, but the essence of it is there. Ye can read it if ye still dinnae believe me.”
Narrowing his eyes, Hunter reached forward. The point of his blade still rested against Trevor’s throat as he took the square of paper. With some difficulty, he opened it with one hand, and his eyes skimmed over the inked words.
He’s nae lyin’.
Itwasthe bare bones of a peace treaty, addressed to him. And the ink had long dried, so it hadn’t been hastily written in an attempt to trick him into believing Trevor’s story.
Hunter’s eyes flitted up. “But if it’s nae ye who’s taken her, then who did?”
