Page 111 of Highland Ruse

Delilah’s heart pounded in her chest. If the clan continued to roar behind her, she no longer heard them. “Could you see what she was wearing?”

“She wore a blue dress.”

The air sucked from Delilah’s lungs.

“Was there anything else about the dress? Anything special?” she asked.

Torra tilted her head in thought and nodded. “Aye, she had a bit of lace trimmed on the sleeves. No’ the hem, just the sleeves.”

Delilah’s body tingled with dread and the breath, the life, whooshed out of her body. “No.”

Torra reached out for her. This time it was Torra keeping Delilah up and not vice versa.

“Do ye think it was her?” Torra asked.

“Yes.” The word came out in a whimper.

Claire—abducted by Rhona. To be taken to the man who had brutally murdered so many. Delilah swallowed the thick emotion welling in her throat.

Kaid. She needed to speak with Kaid.

They needed to leave immediately.

They had to rescue Claire.

Chapter Thirty

Preparations for the clan’s attack were underway.

Kaid strode into his solar and rummaged through several sheets of parchment. Neat rows of numbers reflected the stores of food they would have to bring, the number of weapons for his men, the assignment of each horse to those who didn’t already have their own.

There was much to do in one short day prior to their departure. They would need to purchase many items while they traveled.

Now that Torra had agreed to take back the ownership of her people and ally with him, he did not want to risk her changing her mind. The longer this took, the greater the likelihood that Torra would go back on their agreement.

He checked the doorway for Lachlan, but found it empty. Impatience set Kaid’s feet stalking across the room in a restless pace. He needed to speak to Lachlan, to finalize some of the finer details about the men who would be coming.

Kaid glanced out the window where the heavy cloak of night blanketed the quiet village. The festivities had finally quieted. The evening had slipped from him like water through a sieve. There was still so damn much to do.

Not that it mattered. This was what he’d been born to do. This was why he was laird of his people. After having left his clan starving for vengeance, he would finally deliver.

The light of a flickering candle hovered outside the door, pausing a moment before entering. But his visitor wasn’t Lachlan.

“Delilah.” He couldn’t help but smile as he spoke her name. She was a refreshing change to the all-consuming details of the impending attack.

She was a dream with her long honey-brown hair falling in gentle waves around her face and her dark eyes gazing at him imploringly.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

He straightened in surprise and caught her in his arms. “Delilah, what is it?”

“I haven’t been able to find you.” She clung to him, her fingers strapped around his arms like bands of iron.

Truth be told, he’d been so busy, he had only thought of coordinating his men and this attack. But then, Delilah wasn’t a woman who needed coddling.

“I was speaking to the men who will join us.” He carefully wiped the tear from her cheek and was relieved to find there weren’t more. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Claire.” Delilah’s voice broke. “She’s with Rhona.”