Page 10 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

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"The Ferguson estate. It's a long ride from here. Ye’re nae going tae have time tae get there in a day, lad..."

Paton's voice drifted into Andrew's mind, sounding vague and unwilling.

"Ye'll do well tae bide wi' us the night an' set off on the morrow."

Paton had tried to persuade him, but Andrew was firm. He would leave immediately, shrugging off Paton's attempts to make him stay.

With the wind in his hair, Andrew headed for the Ferguson estate. But, as he glanced at the vast landscape ahead, Andrew felt the enormity of his task.

Paton was right. It was a long way. The Ferguson estate was a nearly two-day ride from the Duncan clan. However, Andrew had faith in his stallion, the redoubtable Blackwell, who had a thirst for speed and an aversion to waiting.

But getting started early was not the only reason that he wanted to be on his way. With the gray Duncan tower behind him, Andrew felt immediately relieved not to be heading there.

A twinge of guilt shot through him. This felt like running away because it was. The truth was Andrew had been relieved to hand the task of delivering the bad news to Paton. And more than that, he did not feel ready to return to the castle. There were too many memories.

So, heading into the tempestuous autumn winds, Andrew propelled himself across the Highlands and north toward the Ferguson estate.

Hours passed. The ride gave Andrew time to think. All the feelings that had been building in him finally dissipated.

There had not been much sun that day, but now, a glorious gold unfurled itself across the horizon. And for the first time since leaving the castle, Andrew was truly alone.

But it was not just Marcus's passing that bothered him. More, the quest for his mysterious daughter. Even now, Andrew could not believe his straightlaced laird had a secret progeny. And, worse still, he had to find her!

Paton had been vague to the point of uselessness on the details, and the enormity of his mission dawned on Andrew as he cantered along the edge of the Ferguson estate.

The sun tucked low into the valley below, and a small town opened up in the fading light. Andrew had found the Ferguson estate, but getting to it would take time. If he were to reach it before night, he would need to hurry up.

Hoping there would be an inn somewhere to stay in, Andrew began his slow descent down the ravine, picking his way through the undergrowth.

It took time and patience, but soon, he found himself at the foot of the hill, staring across at the Stag's Head Inn. The small town fit itself into the rim of the hillside, and in effect, occupied only one narrow street. Squinting in the darkness, Andrew made out a bakery, blacksmiths, and several higgledy-piggledy cottages. But they stood in the shadow of the clan castle, aloof and gray, in the distance.

He was so near, but suddenly, the thought of going any further was impossible. Andrew was exhausted. There was no question of him going any further tonight.

Staring at the Stag's Head, Andrew made a decision. He would stay there tonight and then continue to the castle tomorrow.

His mind made up, Andrew tugged on Blackwell's reins and headed for the warm town lights.

Before he even reached the door of the Stag's Head, Andrew had found trouble. Barely a step inside, he came face-to-face with a short, squat man, whose hair seemed to be constructed entirely from straw. In his hands was an empty quaich, which he brandished at Andrew.

"Ye spilled ma pint! Buy me another!" he hollered at the man, his face as red as a radish.

Instantly, the throng in the inn dimmed, and every eye was upon him. Wearily, Andrew looked at the man.

"I said, ye spilled my drink! So what are ye going tae do about it?" he demanded.

Andrew stared straight at him. As tired as he was, he knew he had not started this.

"I can certainly buy ye another dram," said Andrew civilly. "Although, it was spilled afore I got here."

There was a tense pause. Andrew made to move, but the bulky set man stood in front of him.

"Ye spilled it," he replied truculently.

Andrew felt himself heat up. "Nay, I didnae," said Andrew. He was not hostile but simply stating the facts. The man didn't move. Andrew felt it was time to assert himself. "Now, lad, let me pass."

There was silence. Andrew was not scared of the man, but the atmosphere in this place unnerved him.