Page 37 of Desire of a Highlander
Thomas’s good eye flickered nervously across the crowd that was gathering around him. “There were four of them. They just appeared out of nowhere. They didnae say anything. Didnae try to rob me or anything. They just went for me.”
The words landed like a stone dropped into still water. A murmur swept through the gathered villagers.
“Do ye know who they were?” Ronan asked.
“No.”
“Where did this happen?”
Thomas described a place—a pocket of damp woodland around three miles from the Steading. Ronan opened his mouth to ask more questions but Faye suddenly came pushing through the crowd with all the determination of a charging bull.
“Move! Out of my way!”
The healer knelt beside Thomas. “Let’s have a look at ye.”
She began examining him while muttering under her breath about reckless young men getting themselves into fights.
Ronan rose to his feet. “Eamon, fetch Tam, Duncan and Alec. We’re going to have a look at where this happened, see what we can discover.”
Elodie looked at him. “I’ll come too.”
Ronan shook his head. “No, lass.”
“I can help.”
“Not with this.”
His tone wasn’t harsh, just final. His eyes burned with anger and Elodie was suddenly reminded of the sight of him swinging his sword like he knew exactly how to use it. He might be a blacksmith but he wasn’t just a blacksmith. Reluctantly, she nodded.
“We’ll be back before nightfall,” Ronan said softly. “Likely this was just bandits that came across Thomas.”
Elodie nodded. “But Ronan? Please be careful?”
He smiled softly, his blue eyes meeting hers. “Always.”
Eamon returned with the others Ronan had named, carrying a load of weapons from the smithy. Ronan took his flintlock pistols from them and stuck them through his belt. Ronan barked a command and Bran and Skye took up positions beside him.
Elodie wrapped her arms around herself. The contentment she’d felt only moments ago had evaporated like a morning mist and now a hard, sharp knot of worry sat in her stomach like a lead ball. Ronan caught her eye and gave her a small nod before he and his men turned and walked away.
The knot in her stomach tightened. What if something happened to him? She had to remember that this place was not some bucolic utopia. It was the seventeenth century and it was dangerous and brutal. How could she let herself forget that?
As she watched Ronan and the others disappearing into the distance, she promised herself she wouldn’t forget it again.
NOBODY SPOKE AS RONAN and his companions left the Steading. The easy camaraderie of the morning had vanished, replaced by a hard-edged focus. Nobody took it lightly when one of their own got hurt. It brought home how precarious their life out here really was.
Ronan led the way while Bran and Skye trotted ahead, noses working constantly. The sky had clouded over again and now a cold breeze swept down the valley, carrying the scent of rain.
They left by a narrow, rocky track that climbed up between the cliffs, impossible to find unless you knew to look for it, and came out onto the uplands above. The wind was stronger here, howling so fierce it all but flattened the heather and sent Ronan’s hair swirling.
The dogs wandered around, sniffing, while Ronan and the others waited. The landscape lay empty in all directions. Bran let out a low bark and Skye’s tail wagged once.
“Found it?” Ronan asked. “Right. Let’s go then.”
The dogs had picked up Thomas’s trail and set off across the moorland confidently, leaving Ronan and his men to follow. They’d perhaps gone two miles when the landscape began to change. The ground sloped steeply downwards and became boggy underfoot, squelching beneath Ronan’s boots. Up ahead, a woodland of twisted birch trees crowded together around a large hollow where water gathered amongst rocks and moss. The ground beneath the trees remained damp even during dry summers and many of the villagers gathered mushrooms here, Thomas among them.
Ronan held up a hand to signal a halt and went still, studying the trees ahead, hand resting on one of his pistols. He saw nothing out of the ordinary and he could hear nothing against the incessant howling of the wind. But that didn’t reassure him any.
His men gripped their weapons more tightly, determined expressions on their faces. Nobody needed to be told that they had to be careful. Carefully, they crept into the woods. Water dripped steadily from branches and moss carpeted every fallen log and stone, deadening all sound. Ronan slowed his men to a crawl, pausing often to listen. All he could hear was the sound of dripping water and the sigh of the wind yet the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
