Page 83 of Highland Ruse

Enough to reveal TOR-

Arms caught her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides, and pulled her back in a rough gesture. “Have ye lost yer mind?”

Had Delilah not already felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach, she might have fought back.

But there, seeing the grave marker in front of her, was an overwhelming shock. One she truly had not anticipated.

The man who held her whirled her around, revealing the very handsome, very angry face of Laird MacKenzie.

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was five days since Delilah’s departure before the dark shape of a distant horse rider was visible on the thin trail over the hills. The early afternoon sun bathed the path in hues of red and orange, leaving the rider’s shadow long across the landscape.

Kaid’s pulse jumped to attention. He glanced at Claire, but did not share what he’d seen. Not yet.

He’d decided to occupy the girl’s time with education, and the little girl had a square of parchment in front of her with several rows of numbers running down the topmost portion.

She held the quill pinched between her fingers, her tongue pushed out between her lips, and carved a number onto the page. The tip of the quill had long since bent, but Claire had not seemed to notice.

Kaid knew if he told her about the rider now, she might never finish. Certainly, she would be too eager for word of Delilah.

No, it would be better to wait for the rider to come to him.

Kaid would spare her the wait he must endure.

He bent over Claire’s work and praised her. Happiness lit her face.

“My da was good with numbers.” Claire proudly squared her shoulders in the same manner as Delilah.

It was hard to concentrate on the story that followed when all Kaid could think of was news of Delilah.

A knock came at the door and Kaid’s heart hammered in his chest.

Lachlan entered the room, something long and awkwardly bundled in plaid in his arms. “Laird, I have yer father’s sword, as promised.”

Kaid thanked the warrior and hefted the sword’s proffered bulk. Claire looked up at him with her lips pursed. Kaid set the sword on the desk, away from Claire’s work.

He ruffled her hair. “Ye may ask after Lady Elizabeth, and then I want ye to go to the kitchens for a bit while I speak with Lachlan, aye?”

Claire slid obediently from the large chair and went to stand in front of the other man. The size difference between the massive warrior and the fragile child was like comparing a bear to a kitten.

“Lachlan, can ye tell me how Lady Elizabeth fares?” she asked in her fragile voice. The look on her face was so openly hopeful, it near tore into Kaid’s chest. “Does she miss me?”

Lachlan knelt in front of the girl and offered a kind smile. “She’s doing verra well and misses ye terribly.”

Claire beamed up at him with wide, unsuppressed joy and threw her arms around Lachlan’s neck. “Thank ye.”

Lachlan waited until she released him before he rose. Reassured “Elizabeth” was well, Claire strode toward the door, gave them both a shy wave, and slipped out.

Having the child leave the room was like walking from a beam of sunlight into the shadows. Lachlan’s smile melted from his face and was replaced by his more common stern expression.

The time for placating niceties was done.

Lachlan nodded to where the sword was wrapped still on the table. “It looked like yer da’s sword, but I wasna certain.”

Kaid carefully unwound the plaid from the sword to reveal the wide pommel lined with twisted leather and the ornate image of a bull’s head glaring stubbornly at him. The tension in his body washed away. “Aye, it’s my da’s blade.”

He stared down at it for a long moment and saw in his mind the countless times his father had brandished the blade. Something in Kaid’s chest flinched with a deep, unacknowledged hurt.