She sat behind him, her arms tight around his waist, her love secure around his heart. 'Twas the sweetest bondage he could imagine. He smiled, took her hand, and kissed the back, wishing he could tell her the boundless depth and width of how he adored her. But no words existed.I must find a way to show her.
As well, he couldn't wait to tell his brother and clan about the curse being lifted. He could not wait to regain his spokesman position.
A noise caught his attention. "Listen." He turned his head.
'Twas the sounds of a dozen or more horses advancing from the south, their hooves thumping upon the well-worn trail.
"Finnian, riders are approaching." Torr peered through the trees.
In the moonlight, a few of the kilted men held blazing torches aloft.
"I wonder who they are?" Cat whispered in an apprehensive voice.
After a moment, Torr recognized his friend's broad shoulders and long dark hair in the torchlight. "'Tis Gavin. He's come for his cousin's remains."
"Oh. Thank goodness," Cat said.
"Gavin," Torr shouted, his voice echoing amongst the trees.
The band of Highland warriors stopped as they stared into the dark wood, obviously unable to see them.
"Torr? Is that you?" Gavin yelled.
"Aye."
"What are you doing out there in the dark wood?"
Torr guided Hercules toward the newcomers. At the trail, he dismounted and exchanged a warrior handshake with Gavin, who stood beside his torch-bearer. Since he hadn't been around his friend much over the past year, Torr was not yet accustomed to the sword-slash scar down Gavin's face, which he'd received in the battle with Alpin and Silas. The wound appeared to have healed well.
"We had a skirmish with the witch this eve," Torr said.
"Did you win?"
"Aye, but she turned into a bird and escaped."
Gavin scowled. "Och. Nay surprise there."
"You've come for your cousin's remains?"
"Aye. Alpin was a menace to the clan, but to honor his father and mother, we will give him a proper burial."
Torr nodded. "'Tis noble of you.
Gavin stepped back toward one of the horses and took the mounted lady's hand. "This is my lovely new bride and vanquisher of the curse, Lady Danielle MacRae MacTavish." Grinning, he kissed her hand. "And this is my good friend Sir Torr MacElrath."
"A pleasure to meet you, Lady MacTavish." Torr bowed, happy that Gavin was obviously in love with the beautiful, dark-haired young woman. "My congratulations to you both."
"Nice to meet you." She bent forward awkwardly. "If I were standing, I would attempt a curtsy. Although, considering that my legs are numb, I'd probably do a face-plant."
Amusement washed over Torr at her clever wording, and he barely suppressed a guffaw. "Do not fash over it, m'lady."
"Why were you keeping your misery a secret?" Gavin grumbled to her. "I'll help you dismount."
She waved a dismissive hand. "I don't want to slow you guys down. We need to get to where we're going ASAP. It's darker than a dungeon out here."
Her accent and some of her words struck Torr as unusual. Was she English? Or some other nationality? He was sure he would find out soon.
"Anyway, please, just call me Dani," she said.
