Page 26 of A Highland Rogue to Ruin

It wouldn’t be if he cut down James under a banner of Highland justice.

…

Brighde bypassed her clan’s campfire and removed her cloak as dusk approached. All afternoon, as she’d helped Lady Rose and her handmaids weave piles of wreaths to pass out to the children for the corn cutting ceremony, she’d searched for a sign that Tormund had responded to her challenge.

Each time she’d paced the lady’s solar in Kilravock Castle’s bastion, overlooking the colorful standards and tents dotting the castle grounds, she’d searched for his dark eyes and braided midnight hair. To no avail. And as she gained permission to Lady Rose’s library, searching for peerage regarding an Earldom of Stornoway and swallowing down guilt each time someone congratulated her on her win, her mind had wandered back to him. He was through with her. Pray he’d taken the coin and nay left it in the dirt out of spite.

“I’ll let ye stay on one condition,” James said, intercepting her as she aimed for her tent beyond their central fire.

She tried to maneuver around him, but he blocked her path. This argument again? Since she’d entered the race, and now that Tormund had made his presence known, James had practically tossed her over his shoulder to haul her home. She’d hurried to change into her gown after the horse race so as not to offend Lady Rose’s sensibilities, but had then vanished swiftly to avoid further entanglement with her brother.

“Good. Because Lady Rose is depending on me to pass out wreaths during the corn cutting in two days, and I’ve already promised my assistance.”

He scoured his mouth. “Ye’ll take a guard with ye wherever ye go—”

“And the maids are counting on me to help sell their ribbons in the morn—”

“And ye’ll no’ go near MacLeod again.”

“That should nay be hard considering he wishes to have nothing to do with me.”

“Good. Because the way he looked at ye…” James shook his head and let go whatever his thought was. “’Twas noble what ye tried to do, and blessedly we nay need the coin, but he’s dangerous. He fights in the honor of a murderer. And I bear the scars to prove it, a couple that were almost mortal.”

She had to tell James her revelation about Owen. He’d been busy all day securing the year’s trade agreements with neighboring clans while she’d woven. And if he knew how she’d found out about Owen, he’d be devastated. Would he believe the truth? He’d been ready to hang Tormund today. He’d never understand. Tormund was right to be cynical.

“What did the MacLeod say to ye today before he left?” Aileana asked, as Brighde grabbed a taper and lit it in the campfire.

That I dance like a mirage, drawing a man out to sea without a sail to drown in my beauty…

The heartstopping compliment had repeated through her mind like a herald calling the news. No man had ever had the mettle to tell her such…wait, he’s gone?

Her belly retracted as if it had been pummeled. “He left?” He had mentioned something about Inverness.

“Aye. We saw his entourage check out their weapons and leave the faire midday, heading south.”

South? Inverness was westward.

Some girlish part of her had hoped he’d find her, that he would at least want one more kiss. Mayhap she’d misread him? Mayhap she’d misinterpreted something deeper in the way he’d touched her lips and called her angel today? For unlike last night, when he’d slowly let down his guard to reveal his smile and sense of humor, today he’d been impossible to read. Stony. Defensive and reactive. The warlord today had told her he was a wolf and bared his fangs. And when a wolf bared its fangs, one ought to heed its warning and back away. And the way he’d drawn his blade on her… Lord, if James knew, he’d be furious. Mayhap she was acting lovestruck for a rogue who didn’t know how to love anyone.

Anxious to remove her stays, she slipped inside her tent. Dusk was settling lower in the sky. Choruses of crickets and frogs filled the air. Angus and several of their men had gone out to find other pursuits. Normally she’d go dancing, but the day had taken an unexpected turn and left her reeling.

She popped loose her bodice laces and each wrist, and was just reaching to the pins holding back her snood, letting loose her plait, when…a purse caught her eye!

Her gaze widened. She slammed down her candle and snatched up the leather, ripped open the cinching, sifted her hand within.

Coins.

So many, there had to be at least a hundred… Irritation burned. He’d given it back, and now he was gone!

He hadn’t wanted anything more to do with her. Heartsickness that she had no business feeling assailed her, and too soon she realized she was twisting her locket, nay, her talon. His talon. God, hadn’t he felt anything last night? Why would he have held her so closely and gifted her something so special if he hadn’t?

And then she saw it. A small fold of parchment with a single stem of lavender lying across it, likely from the herbalist vendor. She pulled her taper close and lifted the posy to her nose, her pulse fluttering with confusion and pounding a battle cry in her chest as she inhaled the soothing scent, then tucked it into her cleavage and unfolded the parchment:

Challenge accepted, angel. One game. My terms.

Her heart, aching a moment ago, raced now. Angel. Had he returned? Aileana had said he’d left.

It was elegant handwriting, a perfect script. A relic of his incredible youth spent studying among some of the finest centers for academic thought. Rome? Madrid? France? Did her brother even know this about Tormund? Or did James consider the rough warlord to be little more than a barbarian scratching an X for his name and wrestling sharks for sport?