“I pray he finds the truth,” she murmured.
Margaret nodded solemnly and replied, “As do we all, lass, for whatever that truth may be, it will change many lives.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
"There it is," David said.
Connor and David rode beneath plain cloaks, their tartans hidden and banners left far behind, until the low stone inn came into view upon McKay lands. The place squatted beside the road, its thatched roof dark with peat smoke and its windows glowing amber against the coming dusk. Laughter and the smell of ale drifted out through the open door, mingling with the tang of wet earth and horse sweat.
Connor reined in, his pulse thudding as he told himself this was only an inn like any other.
“Whereabouts did ye see the lad, then?” Connor murmured, leaning closer to David.
“Inside the tavern,” David said.
Connor motioned to the guards. “Take the horses to the stables and wait for us there.”
Inside the tavern, the room was warm and loud, with rough-hewn tables, a wide hearth, and men hunched over cups as dice clattered and voices rose. Connor and David took a table along the wall, keeping their hoods low as an innkeeper glanced their way and then lost interest. The air smelled of barley bread, spilled ale, and damp wool cloaks steaming dry.
“We'll keep to ourselves,” Connor whispered.
David kept his gaze forward, “Over there, me laird, in the corner by the hearth, that table is where I saw him.”
He nodded once toward an empty table scarred by old knife marks and candle burns. “He sat there with two guards, ate little, and spoke less,” David added.
Connor followed the nod and said under his breath, “Then we’ll bide and see if he comes again.”
Time dragged like thick mud as mugs were refilled and chairs scraped across the floor. Connor forced himself to sip his ale and slowly eat, though it tasted of nothing, his eyes lifting at every creak of the door. He told himself to breathe, to remember this could be naught but coincidence and foolish hope. Still, his hand trembled slightly where it rested upon his knee.
At last, the door opened, letting in a gust of cold air and a hush that lasted only a heartbeat. A young lad stepped inside, tall for his age, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he scanned the room.
David’s shoulder stiffened as he leaned closer and whispered, “That’s the one we saw.”
Connor turned, and the world seemed to tilt beneath his feet.
The lad’s face struck him like a blow, so familiar it stole the breath from his chest.
Connor swallowed hard and murmured, “Saints preserve us,” as his vision blurred. “He looks just like me maither,” he said hoarsely, “but those eyes… those are Faither’s eyes.”
The lad turned his head, and Connor glimpsed the mark upon the left side of his neck, pale against his skin, undeniable.
Connor’s fingers dug into the bench as memory and grief surged together like a storm tide. He saw his mother’s gentle smile, his brother’s laughter, and the blood-soaked road he had never escaped in his dreams.
“The birthmark,” Connor whispered, barely sound at all, “it’s there.”
David glanced at him sharply and asked, “What would ye have us do now, me laird?”
Connor did not answer at once, his gaze locked upon the boy as he took a seat at the very same corner table. Connor’s heart hammered as questions burned through him, each one sharper than the last.
At length, he said lowly, “We wait, and we watch.”
“Aye, but if that is truly Michael, he’s been under McKay’s eye these many years.”
Connor nodded once, never looking away, and said, “Which means rash moves would summon Laird McKay.” His jaw tightened as he added, “I’ll nae risk him again, nae now.”
David settled back, accepting the order, though unease lingered in his eyes.
The lad laughed softly at something one patron said, the sound twisting in Connor’s chest like a blade. He noted the way the boy held himself, wary yet polite, strength coiled beneath youth. Connor thought of all the years stolen, of a brother raised among strangers, and felt anger simmer beneath his shock. Still, he kept still, reminding himself that patience was his only weapon here.
