Page 35 of To Win a Highlander’s Heart

Aria’s stomach growled and then twisted at the knowledge. For the first time ever, she sympathised with Norman MacLeod. The two sides of her heritage had been at war with each other for years. The human side longed for kinship. The fairy side demanded mischief. Which side would win her over on any given day was always a mystery, even to her. Perhaps it was much the same for him after his injury.

Aria frowned as she remembered what else the ghost had said. “What do you mean? How was anything different for you?”

The woman dropped her gaze. As a result of helping you and your mother escape, the laird took his anger out on me and threw me into the dungeon. I died there, and yet I stayed at Dunvegan as a ghost.

Aria gasped. “You are a ghost because of me?”

I know not why I am as I am. Perhaps I will never know. You, however, have a chance to know your kin now. Do not let that opportunity pass you by.

“What if they won’t accept me?”

I accept you and thank you for helping in the earlier battle. Isolde will accept you as well. She saw you on the tower. She knows what you have done to help the MacLeods this day and will advocate for you, if you will allow it.

“Truly?”

The ghost nodded.

“I want more than anything to belong here at Dunvegan.”

In order for that to happen, you must talk to Alastair and his brothers. Tell them who you are and that their brother, Keiran, still lives.

“I shall do that when the proper time presents itself. With the men away, now is not the moment.” Deep in thought, Aria moved down the stairway to the first floor and opened the door to the outside. Her gaze fixed in the distance beyond the castle gates and the rugged landscape beyond. “I long to stay here as I am in awe of this world and its breathtaking scenery. Fairyland is so different.” Her words were only a thread above a whisper. “I do not believe I have ever seen anything more beautiful than Dunvegan and the land surrounding it.”

Dunvegan is a haven of peace in a land that has chosen to go to war with itself.

Aria’s stomach grumbled, loudly.

The apparition gazed down at Aria. If you are hungry, I would gladly accompany you to the kitchen. The MacLeods share what they have with those in need.

“I would like that.” Aria couldn’t hold back a smile. She was talking to her first MacLeod since her arrival. It didn’t matter that the woman was a ghost. It was the start of something she’d longed for her whole life.

Chapter Twelve

The late-morning mist left a chill in the air that only amplified the tension emanating from the MacLeod warriors as they finally reached the edge of the village of Roag. Spirals of smoke rose into the sky from four buildings. Orrick’s stomach roiled at the scent of burning wood. For a moment, he was back in a small village in the West Indies that had been devastated by the English. They’d set torches to everything and killed everyone—man, woman, and child.

Orrick shook off the memory. Whoever had attacked Roag had already left. For that small blessing Orrick was grateful. Despite Alastair’s claim that Orrick was ready for battle, he wasn’t so certain.

Riding into the centre of the village, Orrick stopped and dismounted near a group of men. They appeared shaken as they talked about the men who had burned their church, two cottages on the outskirts of the village, and the guildhall on the edge of the market. All the buildings had been empty at the time. And no one had been killed or injured.

“No one was killed in the attack?” Orrick asked, growing suspicious of who the attackers were.

A bearded older man shook his head. “’Twas the strangest thing. ’Twas as if the riders were only here tae scare us.”

Alastair and Tormod joined Orrick, both of his brothers shooting a dark frown at the older man. “Did you recognise any of the attackers?” Alastair asked.

“Nay,” the man replied and the others near him shook their heads.

Tormod’s fists were curled. “Were they wearing clan colours?”

“Nae that we could see. They were all dressed in hooded black capes,” another man said.

“How many of them were there?” Orrick’s sense that something wasn’t quite right intensified.

“Only ten.” The youngest of the men crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “We could’ve fought back ’cuz our numbers are greater. But they came and left so quickly, we only had time tae grab our weapons before they were gone.”

Orrick’s gut tightened as he exchanged a look with his brothers. “This attack doesn’t follow the pattern of the one that devastated Orbost last week.”

Alastair’s features darkened. “Probably because it wasn’t the MacQueens or even the MacDonalds who attacked.”