Page 49 of Desire of a Highlander

“How many?”

“They’re not certain.”

A dark sense of foreboding settled on Ronan’s shoulders. It could be nothing, of course. Travelers. Hunters. Drovers. People looking for help.

Or it could be something much worse. He knew which his instincts favored.

“Pull some of the lads out of the celebrations and double the guard on the perimeter. I’ll go take a look at these tracks.”

“Now?” Elodie said. “But it’s Sarah and David’s wedding!”

“I know.”

She searched his face. “Can’t someone else go?”

He wished they could. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, to kiss her again, to not stop kissing her. Ever. But he had responsibilities he could not shirk.

“Ye know I must.”

“I could come with you.”

“No.” The answer came immediately. “I want ye here where it’s safe.”

She folded her arms and scowled at him. “Is that an order?”

He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I know better than to try and order ye to do anything. It’s a request. Stay here. Please. Enjoy the rest of the celebrations. I’ll be back before ye know it.”

“You had better be. Otherwise I’ll come and drag you back myself.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. Then gave a sharp whistle. “Bran. Skye.”

The music had begun again. People were laughing. Children were chasing one another. The whole Steading was celebrating. He didn’t want to leave, not now, but duty had never cared much for timing.

He turned and walked away from the lights of the wedding feast with Bran and Skye trotting faithfully at his heels. He knew without looking that Elodie was watching him go.

He made his way first to the smithy to collect his pistols, then moved quickly through the Steading. Beyond the clearing, the settlement was eerily quiet and for a moment Ronan felt like he was stepping back in time to the day he first came here when he thought he’d stepped into a ghost town.

Pushing the notion away, he took the path that led up the valley side and out onto the high ground beyond. He’d considered taking Angus but decided against it. He would be easily detected riding a horse. Ahead, the path zigzagged across moorland basking purple and gold under the evening sun.

Sending the dogs out ahead, he began walking along a little-used trail that would eventually lead to the ravine where the waymeet was located.

The last time he’d gone to the waymeet he’d met Irene MacAskill. What awaited him there this time?

Bran stopped suddenly, and Skye froze beside him.

Ronan came instantly alert. “Show me,” he commanded quietly.

The hounds moved forward on silent paws. He followed cautiously as they descended into the ravine that held the waymeet. He crouched down behind a prickly bush and looked out.

Five people were waiting at the waymeet, huddled together beneath the juniper tree that grew out of the ravine wall. Three men, two women, all dressed in patched and ragged clothing, all looking exhausted. One of the women swayed slightly as though barely able to remain standing.

Ronan stepped out of his hiding place. “Good evening to ye!”

The group turned at the sound of his voice, fear flashing across their faces. One of the men took a few steps towards him but stopped a decent distance away.

“Greetings!” he called. “And who might ye be?”

“I could ask ye the same question,” Ronan replied. “This is a remote place for travelers.”