Page 27 of The Highland Laird’s Hellion Bride

He spoke to stubborn goats at length, spoke to people in blunt monosyllables, knew the state of a widow’s roof on his land, and could spot a limping calf from fifty yards away.

She was becoming, she thought with a sudden cold spike of panic, dangerously susceptible to finding him interesting.

He is interesting.

That thought was highly inconvenient. Especially since his arm was a warm band across her waist. The mountain cold came at her from all sides, biting through her shawl, except for the point where his body met hers.

She concentrated very hard on the distant hills. The hills were beautiful yet unhelpful, and the horse walked on.

Chapter Nine

The track back to Ben Cruachan ran along the lower ridge, where the hills opened briefly before the thick pine tree line closed in again.

The castle came into view, its massive stone walls catching what remained of the dying afternoon light. Thin plumes of grey smoke drifted from the kitchen chimneys, curling against the dark sky.

Magnus looked at the stone walls. His eyes ran along the battlements, checking the shape of the granite, the alignment of the timber. He knew he was responsible for keeping everything alive. He noted what had changed, what held, what needed immediate attention.

Thirteen years of this, and the constant checking had not become a habit so much as a raw reflex. It happened in his blood before thought could even intercept it.

Elspeth had gone quiet since the lower field.

He remembered her sharp questions during the inspection. He had noted the way she had spoken to Dougal about the grazing boundaries with that practical, calculating mind of hers; the way she had said something small to Violet about the yellow door, her voice softening just enough to make the widow’s guarded face open like a window. And then, her laugh in the lower field. The unbridled sound that had broken out of her delicate lips.

He kept his eyes fixed on the muddy track.

Old Tam was waiting at the boundary gate where the lower track met the castle road. He was leaning heavily against the oak post, his weathered woolen cap held tightly in his hands.

Magnus saw him from a distance, and something in the man’s posture registered instantly.

“Hold a moment,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

Elspeth stilled in front of him, her spine straightening. He brought his great horse to a smooth stop and dismounted in a single motion. She did not ask why, which he noted with quiet appreciation.

Tam straightened when Magnus approached, but he did not put his cap back on his head. Instead, his thick, calloused fingers turned the wool slowly.

“Me Laird.” Tam looked down at the cap, then up into Magnus’s eyes. “A word, if ye’ll permit.”

Magnus turned back to look at the horse. Elspeth was watching them from the saddle, her expression one of cool patience. She met his gaze, then deliberately turned her head to look at the distant hills to the west, gracefully removing herself from the conversation without moving an inch.

Magnus turned back to the old shepherd. “Aye,” he said flatly. “Walk with me.”

They moved a few yards further up the track, placing the massive body of the stallion between their conversation and the road. Tam’s cap continued its slow, agonizing rotation.

Magnus simply waited. He had learned years ago that when a Highland man was working up to something heavy, waiting was far faster than prompting.

“Dawn this morning,” Tam began, his voice low. “I was doing the east fence. Lower section where it runs along the ridge.” He stopped, his throat working. “There was a rider.”

Magnus froze.

“On the far ridge. The one above the Brennan boundary, where ye can clearly see the castle road.” Tam turned his cap once more, his knuckles white. “At first, I thought it was a traveler, someone from the valley. The light was still thin, hard to judge the distance.”

He released a sharp, rattling breath into the cold air. “But he didnae move, me Laird. His horse stood like a stone, and the man sat on it, and he looked. I could see him looking. At the castle. At the road.”

A heavy, suffocating pause. “I watched him for near on a quarter hour. He never moved. Never came closer. When the light changed, he just went back over the ridge.”

The dusk air grew thick around them, the wind dropping to a dead whisper.

“His face,” Magnus said.