Page 70 of A Flawed Scotsman

She slammed her fists into the bedding and let out a primal yell. A guard opened the door and peered in.

“Go away!” Esme motioned to him with both hands.

Without Ruari there, the bedchamber felt empty. She glanced about the room, trying to decide what to take. Other than a few clothes, she wanted very little. Hopefully, one day they’d return and she would be able to collect more of her things. For the moment, she would do with as little as possible.

It was late by the time Keithen came to her chamber. She’d fallen asleep atop the bedding, fully dressed in breeches, a tunic and leather boots.

As soon as he shook her, Esme was fully awake.

Much later, the sky grew lighter as the sun rose and she rode away from her home and into an uncertain future.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Ye must return for her immediately,” Malcolm Ross repeated to Ruari, who tried without success to eat. Upon arriving, he’d been too angry to eat and now, a day later, nothing tasted good. Not knowing how Esme fared filled him with guilt.

“I should not have left her behind,” he admitted. “I will return for her today.”

His cousin nodded. “I agree with not remaining there. Although I understand Laird Fraser being angry. Ye are part of his family and came there with warriors to help.”

“A wife’s place is with her husband’s family,” Elspeth, Malcolm’s wife, interjected. “Otherwise, how is she to learn to become her own person?”

Knowing it was fruitless to argue with the woman, Ruari remained silent.

Malcolm, on the other hand, gave his wife a questioning look. “Her clan is in peril. They are constantly threatened by the Mackenzie.”

“It is their battle to fight. However, I do believe the other Frasers should send a large contingent to remain with them. Why have they not done this?”

At her statement, Ruari and Malcolm exchanged looks. Ruari frowned. “Ye are correct. I do not know why they have not. Perhaps some sort of family discord.”

“They need to work on it.” Elspeth stood and leaned to kiss her husband’s cheek. “I best go see what the bairns are up to.”

It was heartwarming to note how his usually hardened cousin watched his wife walk away, a slight curve to his lips.

“I will leave now.” Ruari stood and stretched. “Yer wife is right. Esme belongs here.”

Malcolm nodded. “Who is going with ye?”

“I will take twelve. Although I do not expect any problems, there are always Mackenzies traipsing about. I do not wish to be taken to visit that man by force again.”

“Very well. Take two archers. They often come in handy.”

“Thank ye.” Ruari met his cousin’s gaze. “I will have to build a home on the lands left to me by yer father.”

“Our father,” Malcolm corrected. “He loved ye as his own, equal to Tristan, Kieran and me.”

“And I loved him the same.” Ruari had to clear his throat. The late laird’s death was still too real and raw.

As he and the twelve men crested a nearby ridge, in the distance was a rider, escorted by warriors. Long, burnished brown hair had escaped its trappings and blew around her head like waves. The rider lifted a hand at spotting him and was immediately surrounded by six warriors. They did not fly a banner, nor did they wear a tartan identifying who they were.

His cousin, Ewan, came alongside Ruari. “Friend or foe?”

“It doesn’t matter, they are a small contingent. We should probably avoid them.”

Ewan shrugged his broad shoulders, the bow and arrows on his back moving with the action. “Fly our banner,” he instructed to one of the warriors.

They lifted up the red banner with three lions and rode forward. It was then the lone rider took off, urging the horse to a gallop toward them. The escorts seemed to be caught off guard as they gave chase.

Ruari began laughing.