Page 24 of Steel & Surrender

Actually, it had been grueling.

He’d set off at first light from home. Rolling pasture gave way to rough moorland—heather, bracken, coarse grass—and treacherous peat bogs. They skirted the marshy areas, the ground sucking at Tàirneanach’s hooves.

Next had come narrow glens, steep-sided corries, and shadowed passes. At a certain point, he’d skirted Ben More. The ‘Great Mountain’ had loomed overhead, dark, massive, and wreathed in cloud.

Spying the peak had been a reminder of Alistair’s list—and the foolish promise he’d made to the Forge Maiden.

Hill walking? What was he thinking?

Their meeting was in two days; perhaps he should send word that he’d changed his mind.

Jaw clenched, he’d ridden on, leaving Ben More behind him. The western descent took him into harsher, wind-battered land. The wind was stronger here, salt sharp in the air. And now that he’d reached his destination, it felt like the edge of the world.

“We should have done this ride together years ago, Al.”

His mood sobered then, regret tightening his chest.

He hadn’t spent nearly enough time with his brother before his death. Greig had been too busy fulfilling his own ambitions. He had gone off to fight the English, leaving his brothers behind, without a backward glance.

And in truth, he’d barely spared either of them a thought while he’d been fighting for Andrew Murray. But when he’d returned to Duart, they’d been here, waiting, a constant in his life, or so he’d thought.

He’d taken Alistair for granted. And he was so sorry for that now.

It was too late, though, for some things at least.

To the west, the sun hung low in the sky now; the day was coming to an end.

He wouldn’t make it back to Duart until tomorrow, but fortunately, the crofting and fishing hamlet of Bunessan lay just south of here.

He’d find shelter there, as well as a hearty meal and a tankard of ale.

However, he didn’t ride on just yet. Instead, he savored this moment, the first challenge on Alistair’s list.

He admitted to himself that it was possibly one of the easiest, although a night of heavy drinking in Tobermory wasn’t exactly a hardship, especially since, these days, the Macleans and the Mackinnons had made peace. He wouldn’t risk a dirk between the shoulder blades, at least.

This challenge had been an exhilarating one.

He was almost sorry it had ended.

Casting his gaze west once more, he stared out across the churning sea, enjoying this moment.

One task done.

Four more to go.

Of course, Alistair had listed six things, yet his ghost would have to make do with Greig fulfilling five. Even if he’d found Brìghde Boyd attractive, he wouldn’t have taken on that challenge. The others were different—they didn’t involve anyone but him. The Forge Maiden had no idea his brother had carried a torch for her; it would be cruel to drag her into this.

“Ye’ve earned yerself a nosebag of oats, lad,” he said, slapping Tàirneanach on the shoulder.

As if understanding him, the gelding snorted, tossing his head.

“Come on then,” he replied, grinning once more, before he turned his horse south.

8: CHASING AWAY THE SHADOWS

STICKING HER HEAD outside to view the misty grey dawn, Brìghde frowned. The fog was thick, the air cool and damp. It wasn’t the best weather for any outdoor pursuit.

She heaved a sigh then.