Page 96 of Desire of a Highlander

“They’re on my land.”

“No, they are on the road and have every right to be there.”

The tent fell silent and Ronan and his brother glared at each other. Bryce dismissed the soldiers with a wave. “Leave us!”

Reluctantly, they withdrew and Ronan found himself alone with his eldest brother for the first time in years. The first time since he’d...

He shied away from the thought. Neither spoke. For a long moment they simply looked at one another.

“Ye’ve aged,” Bryce said finally.

“Havenae we all?”

Bryce folded his arms. “What do ye want, Ronan?”

Ronan drew a slow breath. “I came here to take back what is mine. To reclaim my lands. I—”

“So that’s it!” Bryce snapped. “I might have known! Yer lands? Ye gave up any right to them the moment ye—”

“I havenae finished!” Ronan cut his brother off. “I came back here to reclaim my lands but now I realize that was only ever a dream.” He met his brother’s hard stare. “Now all I want is sanctuary. Not for me. For my people. Whatever lies between us, Bryce, they have no part in it. Let them cross the river. I offer ye my life in payment. Imprison me. Hang me if ye wish. But let them cross. Please.”

Bryce’s composure cracked a little. He stared at Ronan and his cheek twitched.

“Ye would trade yer life?”

“Aye. For what it’s worth.”

Silence stretched between them. Bryce studied Ronan for what felt like an age.

Then Bryce laughed softly and something in his expression hardened. “Ye always did this.”

Ronan frowned. “I always did what?”

“Make yerself the hero and everyone else feel like the villain.”

“I never—”

“Father always said ye had the softer heart.” His laugh was bitter. “Mother adored ye for it. Ye were always her favorite.”

Ronan blinked, shocked at the bitterness in his brother’s voice. “Bryce—”

“No!” Bryce snapped. “By every law in Scotland I should arrest ye.” He suddenly pulled up his shirt. A puckered scar marred the skin just above his hip. “I should see ye hang for trying to kill me.”

“Bryce, I never meant—”

“Enough! I dinna want to hear it!”

He marched towards Ronan and drew a dagger from his belt. Ronan swallowed, a sliver of fear slicing through his gut, but he forced himself to hold his ground. Bryce halted a mere inch from where Ronan stood. They were of a height and Bryce glared at him, face right by his own. The dagger gleamed between them. Something dark and feral flashed in Bryce’s eyes. Hatred? Ronan wasn’t sure but he braced himself, waiting for the cold, sharp pain of steel sliding into his stomach.

But it never came.

Instead, Bryce cut the ropes binding Ronan’s wrists and then backed up a few steps. “Ye may return to yer people.”

Hope flickered for an instant before Bryce extinguished it.

“But I willnae help ye. It was yer choice to bring yer people here, to my lands. Nobody invited ye. I owe ye and them precisely nothing.”

The words were like a punch to Ronan’s gut. “The Murdochs are tracking us. Ye know what they will do when they find us.”