Page 227 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
Even as he said it, he heard how weak it sounded. He held onto it anyway because the other possibilities were worse.
“She may have taken the northern path or gone to the lower ridge. She kens the grounds well enough by now.”
Hector stared at him. “Nay.”
Ciaran spun back. “What?”
“Nay, she didnae simply ride off alone in a temper.”
His hope cracked.
“She took a horse at first light, aye, but she didnae go without protection. Two guards rode after her.”
Ciaran felt the ground hold too steady under him. “Why?”
“Because yer wife is the daughter of a laird whose hall just burned, and because there is still unease enough in this castle that nay one thought it wise to let her ride out unguarded?”
That answer would have satisfied him under different circumstances. Now, it only made the next question worse.
“Then where is she?”
Hector’s mouth tightened. “That is the point. They lost the road. Either she took a wrong turn or was driven off it. We have men out looking already.”
Ciaran took one step toward him. “Lost the roadhow?”
“We havenae gotten all of it yet.”
“And what exactly haveyegot?”
Hector held his gaze steadily. “There were track breaks near the birch line and some struggle that suggests she was…” he trailed off.
Ciaran knew where that response was headed, and he hated desperately that he did.
Nay. Nay,this cannae be it.
Bruce, on the other hand, had fallen silent. He stood near the wall, his ears pinned against the back of his head, his small body vibrating with the same alarm that gripped every person in the hall.
Ciaran heard himself speak again. “And the guards?”
Hector said nothing for one beat, and when he spoke again, the tremors in his voice grew more evident. “They were found dead.”
The hall seemed to narrow around those words.
Something broke open in Ciaran so fast it almost felt like relief, because at least this had a shape now. Horror. Violence. Enemy. He did not have to stand in uncertainty for one breath longer.
Ava had not ridden off to think. Ava had not chosen distance. Ava had not left him by choice or pride.
She had beentaken.
“Damn him.” The words came out rough and low.
Hector’s head jerked slightly. “Who?”
Ciaran’s mind moved with sick, sudden clarity. Jack dead. The old explanation given. The neat account of blame contained. The fire with no face on it. The sense of being watched on the road. Guards murdered under his protection. Ava gone.
“The old bastard lied.”
Hector went still. “What old bastard?”
