Page 18 of Desire of a Highlander

The murmuring amongst the group intensified and relieved smiles appeared on a few faces. Several people looked close to tears.

“Come on,” Elodie said gently. “It’s not too far.” She hoped she wasn’t lying. She thought she could remember the way back but she’d been so preoccupied with escaping she couldn’t be totally sure.

The little girl scrambled up and slipped her hand into Elodie’s. The gesture was so trusting that it made Elodie’s chest ache.

“My name’s Morag,” she announced.

Elodie smiled. “I’m Elodie. It’s this way.”

As she turned around and began retracing her steps, the line of people trudging wearily at her back, Elodie felt a new sense of purpose spreading through her. Okay, so she might not have the first clue about this strange place in which she’d found herself. But these people needed her help.

And that, she could do.

Chapter 5

Ronan ran the curry comb down Angus’s flank in slow, steady strokes.

The big bay gelding flicked an ear but otherwise paid him little attention, content with munching hay from his manger. It was starting to get dark outside and he’d soon need to light a lantern.

“What do ye think of our strange new guest?” Ronan asked.

Angus continued chewing hay.

“Aye, that’s what I thought.”

The horse snorted. Ronan smiled faintly and continued grooming.

Grooming Angus in the evenings had become one of his habits. The stable was one of the few places where he could find peace. No disputes to settle. No questions about crops, roofs, fences or missing livestock. Just him and Angus. The horse had always been a good listener—certainly better than most people.

“Faye thinks she’s trouble.”

Angus twitched an ear.

“Or that trouble might follow her.”

The horse’s tail swished lazily. He looked over his shoulder at his master, hay hanging out both sides of his mouth and snorted softly.

“Aye, ye are right. I’m worrying about things that have yet to happen.”

His smile faded as his thoughts drifted. It always surprised him how old Angus was becoming. The horse was graying around the muzzle now and he had faint scars on his chest from adventures best forgotten. And he wasn’t the only one getting older. Time had touched them both. Ronan was no longer the idealistic youth who’d rode away from his family’s lands all those years ago. When he thought about it, he barely recognized that young man anymore.

But Angus had remained throughout it all. He remembered the day his father had given him the horse. Angus had been only a colt then, all legs and ears and gangly movement. He remembered his father laughing when the colt had immediately started fighting the tether that Ronan had gripped with both hands.

“He’s stubborn,” his father had warned. “Ye will suit one another.”

His hand slowed against Angus’s coat. Back then the future had seemed simple—everything fixed, everything certain. But then everything had changed and any certainty Ronan had felt in the future had withered like a dead vine.

He noticed the direction of his thoughts and caught himself. Enough. There was no sense dwelling on ghosts. The past was the past and nothing could be done about it.

He had just begun brushing Angus down once more when the stable door flew open and Faye came stomping in. One look at her thunderous expression made Ronan’s stomach tighten.

“What is it?”

“The lass is gone.”

“What?”

“When I got home from my rounds, she wasnae there. No sign of her anywhere.”