Page 48 of A Healer for the Wicked Highlander
Michael exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his jaw. Brodie’s suspicions mirrored his own, and that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. His clan was built on loyalty and discipline, but rot could spread in even the strongest of walls.
Michael’s jaw tightened, though his voice remained calm, measured. “Have ye heard anythin’? Rumors, whispers—anything; at all?”
Brodie’s dark eyes flashed. “If I had, me laird, ye’d have heard it the moment I did.”
Michael held his gaze for a long moment. Brodie was many things. He was harsh, suspicious, brutal when needed, but he was no liar. If he knew something, he would have spoken.
He exhaled slowly, his thoughts sharp and methodical. “Three guards missin’,” he said, more to himself than to Brodie. “If they fled, it means fear. If they were taken, it means we have enemies still within our walls. And if they vanished of their own will?—”
“Then we’ve got traitors,” Brodie finished grimly.
Michael’s hands curled into fists, but his expression remained unchanged. It was the simplest explanation. The last attack had been against Cody, and that had failed. A smarter enemywould know that striking at his son had only hardened Michael’s resolve. A different tactic was needed. Turning his own men against him. Spreading doubt. Weakening his foundation.
It will nae work.
He turned his gaze back to Brodie. “If they’ve fled, I want to know why. If they’re hidin’, drag them out. If they’ve betrayed me…” A pause, brief but heavy. “Then we make an example of them.”
Brodie gave a sharp nod. “Aye, me laird.”
Michael turned back to the fire, his expression betraying nothing.
A rebellion. A coward’s escape. A traitor’s hand. Any of those things could be true. And until he knew which, he would prepare for all of them.
His castle had withstood storms, wars, and betrayals before. It would withstand this too.
And if someone thought to strike at him again, at hisson, they would learn the price of treason.
“And then,” Cody continued, as his small hands waved animatedly, “the great beast rose from the loch, water drippin’ from its scales, its eyes glowin’ like fire?—”
“Like fire, ye say?” Marissa teased, reclining on the blanket beside him. “I thought loch monsters had eyes like the moon.”
Cody shook his head vehemently. “Nay! This one had fire in its belly, just waitin’ to scorch any lad foolish enough to go near.”
Freya laughed softly, watching as Abigail leaned forward, feigning concern. “What happened to the poor lad?”
Cody puffed out his chest. “Well, lucky for him, he was quick on his feet and mighty clever besides. He tricked the beast by throwin’ a torch into the water, makin’ it think the fire had spread! The monster fled back into the deep, and the lad was never troubled again.”
The girls clapped in amusement, and Cody beamed, clearly pleased with his tale.
Freya smiled, though there was an ache behind it. How easily Cody wove stories, his spirit unburdened despite the dangers that had nearly stolen his life. He had been so weak when they arrived, his small body nearly swallowed by fever, but now… now he was full of life again.
And soon, they would have to leave him.
Her chest tightened at the thought.
Marissa stretched out lazily, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Ye’d make a fine bard, Cody.”
Cody grinned. “Think so?”
“Aye,” Abigail agreed. “Though I daresay ye’ll be a warrior like yer da before long.”
At that, Cody’s smile faltered for the briefest moment, something unreadable flickering in his young eyes.
Freya caught it and felt her heart squeeze.
Michael.
She exhaled slowly, forcing her gaze to the rippling waters of the loch. The laird of these lands had been on her mind far more than she cared to admit. Cold and unreadable as he was, Michael cared fiercely for his son. That had been evident from the first moment she met him. And now, after weeks in his home, she had seen glimpses of the man beneath the laird. The sharp mind, the unwavering control, the way his presence commanded a room with nothing more than a glance.
