Page 50 of Desire of a Highlander

The man glanced at his companions. “We heard there was a place of safety nearby.”

“Did ye now?”

“Aye. A place where we might find food and shelter. We desperately need both.”

Ronan studied the group. Their clothing was torn and dirt smeared their faces. They looked like they’d walked a long way. And yet something nagged at him. After Thomas’s encounter with Murdoch’s men, he knew he had to be careful.

“Where are ye from?”

“The north,” one of the women said. “Alberick. Our village was attacked.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

He kept his tone light, friendly, yet his unease didn’t lift. The dogs stayed on alert, eyes fixed on the group.

“Which marker led ye to us?” he asked casually.

One of the men frowned. “What?”

“The northern one? Or the river crossing?”

They looked at him blankly. This was a question that anyone who made it this far should know the answer to. The series of secret markers and meeting places were how people found the Steading. The information spread by word of mouth and anyone who had genuinely followed the network would be able to tell him which route they had taken.

The man hesitated. “The northern one.”

Ronan’s unease spiked into alarm, although he didn’t let it show on his face. There was no northern marker. Only the river crossing or the eastern one. Both routes would lead here. But not from the north.

Silence stretched. The dogs growled.

Ronan’s hand drifted towards his pistol. Before he could touch it, the man suddenly exploded into motion, throwing himself at Ronan, fist swinging. Ronan sidestepped and the man stumbled past. Bran launched himself like an arrow, slamming into the man and taking him to the ground. Skye slammed into another man, knocking him flat on his back.

Ronan drew his twin pistols in one smooth motion. The hammers clicked back, and everyone froze.

He leveled the weapons at the group. “Enough.”

“Ye are quicker than they said,” one of the women snapped.

“Who sent ye?” Ronan growled.

Nobody answered.

Ronan cocked the pistols. “Answer the question!”

The woman’s jaw tightened. “Lord and Lady Murdoch.”

Those names again. These people weren’t refugees, nor even bandits. They were hunters.

“What do ye want?”

The woman ignored the question. She tilted her head as she studied him. “Ye know, there are five of us and only one of ye. Not good odds.”

Ronan shrugged. “That’s true. Shall we see how many shots I can get off before ye take me down? Shall we see how many my dogs can get hold of before ye beat them off?”

The woman paled a little.

Ronan smiled but there was no warmth in it at all. “No? Thought not. I suggest ye leave. Right now.”

The woman glanced at her companions and seemed to decide the odds weren’t worth it. “Come. There’s naught here for us.”