Page 93 of Desire of a Highlander

Ronan’s jaw tightened. His voice was barely more than a whisper. “Bryce.”

Elodie looked again at the waiting riders and noticed a man seated motionless in the center. Even at this distance she could feel authority radiating from him. She knew instinctively that this was Bryce Campbell, the earl of Newborough.

She also knew instinctively that he hadn’t come to welcome his brother home.

He’d come to stop him.

Chapter 21

Ronan walked towards the bridge and halted a few yards short of it.

The river below surged over dark rocks, swollen by recent rain, white water crashing against the ancient stone piers. It was not especially wide, but it was enough. One side belonged to no one. The other belonged to the Campbells.

On the other side, lay home. Or what had once been home.

His people waited behind him in uneasy silence. Wagons creaked as horses stamped their feet. Children clung to their mothers. Somewhere behind him he heard Bran whine softly while Skye stood rigid, staring towards the waiting riders.

In the center of the disciplined ranks of riders sat a man in dark green riding clothes beneath a heavy plaid.

Bryce.

Even at this distance Ronan knew him instantly. His eldest brother looked older. There was silver beginning to creep into his dark hair, and his shoulders seemed a little more stooped than Ronan remembered. Yet he still sat a horse with effortless authority.

For one impossible heartbeat Ronan was sixteen again, riding beside Bryce through the forests on their estate, competing to see who could bring down a stag first.

Bryce raised one gloved hand and the memory vanished.

A rider dismounted from the Campbell line and began walking slowly across the bridge towards him.

“Everyone stay here,” Ronan called over his shoulder. “I’m going to meet him. Stay alert but dinna come closer unless I tell ye.”

Elodie grabbed his arm. “Wait. I’m coming with ye.”

He shook his head. “No, ye are not. Not this time.”

Her eyes were wide with worry. “But...but what if they hurt you?”

“They willnae. Bryce might be a bastard but he still clings to some notion of honor. He willnae have me shot without listening to what I have to say.”

Elodie scowled. “Is that supposed to reassure me? Well, it bloody-well doesn’t!”

He gave her a soft smile. “Dinna worry. I’ll be back.” He wasn’t entirely certain he believed it.

He walked alone onto the bridge. It had been ancient even when he was a lad and the upkeep of this river crossing was one of the obligations of Clan Campbell. It provided a vital route to the north. In his father’s time, the bridge had been meticulously maintained but now the stones had weeds growing between them and some of the mortar was crumbling. It seemed that the Earl of Newborough had more pressing demands on his time than maintaining it.

Ronan walked confidently, chin lifted, shoulders back, eyes fixed on the man coming to meet him. Halfway across the bridge, he stopped. Bryce’s captain halted in front of him. He was broad-shouldered, gray-bearded, and perhaps twenty years older than Ronan. Recognition flickered across his weathered face.

“My lord.”

Ronan almost smiled. “Good day to ye, William. It has been many years since anyone called me that.”

William De Gracy, captain of the earl’s guardsmen, inclined his head. “Some of us havenae forgotten ye.” He glanced briefly towards the waiting people behind Ronan. “Though I confess I never expected to see ye again.”

Ronan shrugged. “Life is full of surprises isnae it?”

William’s lips twitched. “My orders are to tell ye to turn back.”

Ronan looked beyond him. Bryce sat exactly where he had before. Watching. Waiting. “I wish to speak with my brother.”