Page 17 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
“I’ll head to the keep first. Ye wait to follow so we are nae seen returning together.”
He nodded, and she departed without a word. He sat, recalling the kiss and then thinking upon his duty to be objective with the Blackswells. Could he still be? Hehadto be. No matter what, he would be thorough and fair.
The last thought brought an unwelcome one. Had Cadyn purposely sent him here hoping something would occur between him and Katreine so that Broch would be more inclined to favor them over the Blackswells? Whether it was purposeful or not, Broch had to depart tonight for Hightower Castle. Another kiss from Katreine like the one they’d just shared and he feared that no matter how much he wanted to be impartial toward the Blackswells, it would be impossible. The best thing to do would be to leave immediately, especially since everything within him rebelled against the notion.
Seven
Broch and William entered Blackswell land a day after leaving Katreine’s home. Broch’s guilt about not saying farewell to Katreine was in the back of his mind as he maneuvered his horse up the narrow path that wound around the mountain on which the Blackswell keep was perched. Broch glanced up at the towering Blackswell stronghold, impressed by its size and the strategic location of where it had been built.
Three sides of the stronghold were surrounded by the sea. The castle was inaccessible by two of those sides because the water went straight to rock that jutted up high into the sky. But on one side, there was a small section of beach where vessels could be docked, and there appeared to be steps carved into the rock leading up to the main keep.
The architecture reminded him somewhat of Dunvegan Castle in that the MacLeod stronghold also met water on two sides, and on the third side, where the beach for landing vessels was, there were steep seagate stairs, like the Blackswells’ castle, Hightower. But the path of stairs here was much narrower than at Dunvegan. On the side of Hightower that was not met by water, there was one singular path wide enough for horses to traverse only in a single line, which he and William had done.
The path widened as they reached the top of the mountain, and at the pinnacle, Hightower rose toward the heavens. The castle had been aptly named as it consisted of a large keep in the middle and four towers that stood tall on all four corners of the castle grounds. The towers were connected by bridges in the air, and Broch now saw that they were manned by ten guards upon the bridges. The towers, alight with torches, appeared to be manned by two guards per tower. If it came to a war between the Kinntochs and the Blackswells, the Blackswell castle would be much harder to breach than Thioram.
The thought brought Katreine swiftly back to his mind. Had she been vexed when she’d learned he’d left without bidding her farewell? He’d told her father, of course, and the smug smile he had given Broch made his suspicion grow that he’d purposely been sent to that loch to encounter Katreine. He refused to consider if Katreine had been a willing participant since he was not even certain there was subterfuge. Besides, he needed to be completely concentrated on the Blackswells.
As Broch and William pulled their horses up to the small guard towers at the gate of the keep, two Blackswell soldiers greeted them with drawn swords. Torches flickered from pikes in the ground, so Broch could see well what the warriors looked like. The men appeared sinewy, their faces hard and their eyes unfriendly. But they were the first line of defense against any who wished for entrance into the Blackswell stronghold, so it made good sense for the Blackswell laird to have two of his harsher warriors at the gate.
“Speak yer business,” the warrior with hair the color of night demanded.
“I am King David’s right hand, Broch MacLeod.” Broch motioned to William. “This is William MacLean, one of the king’s personal guards. I’m here by order of the king to see that the wedding of Brodee Blackswell and Katreine Kinntoch occurs.” His chest tightened at his words. He gritted his teeth, burying his newfound desire for the lass, and tried to narrow his thoughts to his mission and the vow he had made to Katreine and her family.
“We dunnae need ye to aid us in seeing that the wedding occurs,” the man snarled. “We have it in hand.”
“Do ye now?” Broch kept his tone calm, though the man was annoying. “If by ‘in hand,’ ye refer to the men that were sent to collect the Kinntoch lass, then ye’d do well to ken that those men are dead.”
Steel swished through the air as the dark-headed guard tried to bring his sword to Broch’s chest. But Broch swung his sword up faster and met the man’s weapon midair while William handily did the same with the other guard, grinning like a clot-heid who had no fear his life could be ended. Broch truly needed to have a serious talk with William.
“Did ye kill our men?” the guard snarled.
“Aye,” Broch replied. “Because they tried to kill me after I witnessed them about to abuse Katreine Kinntoch. I suggest ye make haste to inform yer laird that I am here. He has questions to answer, and if I dunnae like the answers he gives, then I’ll be recommending to the king that the wedding nae occur.” When the man glared at Broch, he said, “I’m happy to fight ye, but I dunnae think it will please yer laird to discover ye battled the king’s man.”
The man jerked his head. “Follow me,” he growled.
Broch motioned to William to come, as well, and the two of them dropped into step behind the guard while the other Blackswell warrior brought up the back of their progression.
William grinned at Broch. “We handled that well.”
Broch scowled at William until the grin slid from the younger man’s face. “Ye handled it like a man who dunnae have a care for his life.”
William’s brows knitted together. “I have a care, but I also intend to make people respect me.”
Broch sighed. William had the same burning desire in him that Broch had, but for different reasons. As they walked, Broch lowered his voice and said, “Earning respect takes many years and can rob ye of things,” Broch said, acutely aware he was now talking of himself.
William arched his brows. “What sort of things?”
“Happiness,” Broch said evasively, but when William’s frown deepened, Broch felt compelled to be a bit more specific. “Meaningful companionship.”
A half-smile came to William’s mouth. “Ye mean a woman?”
“Aye,” Broch said, feeling his neck heat, but pushing forward because he was determined to warn William of what he was only just discovering about himself, and how he felt an emptiness.
William offered a dismissive wave. “I can obtain respect and a woman, if I wish.”
“I fear nae,” Broch said, but he knew William would not listen.
William moved closer to Broch as they walked. “I wish to train with the Dark Riders.”
