Page 36 of Highland Lords of War & Thunder: The Prequel

“I want Morra Mist safe, Fay. I want those two to grow up here without wondering if someone is going to take their home from them. I want them to have a future.”

Fay followed his gaze.

For a moment neither spoke.

Then she turned to him. “You listen to me, Creagan. You go do whatever it is you think you need to do, but you better not let anything happen to you.”

“I rarely do,” he said, touched by how concerned she sounded for him.

“I mean it. I would never forgive you,” she warned.

Creagan's expression softened. “Then I'll make certain I give you nothing to forgive.”

“And I better see you again soon, or I'll come looking for you myself.”

He laughed. “Now that frightens me more than whatever trouble awaits.”

“It should.”

Fay stepped closer and rested her hand against his cheek. “You're a good man, Creagan.”

His smile disappeared. There was something about the way she looked at him that held him still for a moment.

“You deserve a good woman. And since you've obviously failed miserably at finding one yourself, I've decided I'll find one for you.”

His smile returned. “Make certain she's buxom.”

Fay slapped his arm. “And beautiful,” he added.

“Anything else?”

Creagan considered it seriously. “Wealthy would be helpful.”

“Get out of my house.”

He laughed as he headed for the door.

Two days later, Creagan was beginning to wonder if he'd been wrong.

He had traveled steadily toward Dunsire, the prosperous town that surrounded the queen's castle, choosing roads that took him through villages where he could listen to what people were saying.

There had been more mumblings, though nothing he could put a name to. Nothing anyone could prove. But enough to convince him that what Tate had heard wasn't confined to one corner of Morra Mist.

What Creagan hadn't heard was the summons.

He'd expected it by now, but he had heard not a word.

As evening approached, he turned off the road toward a manor house where he knew he'd find a warm meal, a comfortable bed, and good company. The stone house sat upon a gentle rise overlooking acres of grazing land, its size and well-kept grounds reflecting the prosperity of the man who owned it.

Chieftain Alastair greeted him before he'd gotten halfway to the door.

“Creagan! Where the devil did you come from?”

Creagan gave a quick glance over his shoulder. “Your road.”

Alastair laughed and clasped his forearm. “Still wandering wherever your feet take you?”

“They've served me well so far.”