Page 74 of Her Reluctant Highlander Husband

Except for the hound that followed him everywhere, looking even more grim than was his normal countenance. Even now Rascal lay at the edge of the bailey with his head on his paws, looking morose.

Bryce wasn’t sure which one of them missed her more. The only difference was Rascal wasn’t even trying to hide it, while Bryce used his misery to fuel his orders.

The drills continued until the sun was low in the sky, and the grunts of his men were overpowered by the sound of their bellies grumbling.

“You must move faster,” Bryce snapped at Liam. “Do you want the McCurdys to take you down? Do you never wish to see a ship bearing the MacKinlay crest sailing home to our own shores?” He raised his sword again and felt his muscles lag with fatigue.

Lach came up behind him. “That’s enough for today. See yourselves fed,” the laird ordered.

Bryce glared at Lach, happy to have a place to vent his anger. His cousin shouldn’t have stepped in and countered his orders. Bryce was the war chief.

“Let’s walk,” Lach said, nodding toward the gates.

Bryce gladly followed. The fewer people who saw his outrage the better.

They strode in silence until they came to a stop in front of the place where his burned-out cabin had been. The first one. This spot was cursed and held nothing but bad memories for him.

It figured Lach would bring him here. No doubt the man had some plan brewing. He’d had enough of Lachlan MacKinlay’s damned plans. He was still reeling from the last one. The one that had brought Dorie into his life.

He looked away from the darkened spot where his life had been ripped to shreds the first time, wanting to block out all the memories, and cursed Lachlan for forcing him to come here.

“I’m your laird,” Lach finally said.

“I’m aware.” Bryce crossed his arms over his chest in defiance. If Lach was going to try to force him into something else, he’d picked the wrong time to do so. Bryce was spoiling for a fight. He and his cousin often disagreed on things. But Lach was the laird and always had the final say.

Maybe it was time for Bryce to move on. Maybe he’d be able to make peace when he visited his father and find a place with the Campbells.

“I’m also your blood,” Lach went on. “And, I hope, a friend.”

Bryce frowned and dropped his stance. He let out a shaky breath before giving a short nod of agreement. The fight went out of him. “You are that.”

It would have been easier if Lach had criticized his orders to the men. Bryce might have had an outlet for his anger. He didn’t want understanding and pity. Never pity.

“You say we’re friends,” Lach said quietly, “yet you continue to wrap yourself in pain and misery, instead of letting me help you.”

“You know well enough there is no help for me. You’ve been trying for years.”

“Dorie healed you. I saw it.”

“You carry battle scars. You ken well enough how those scarred bits are numb. You canna feel them anymore. They’re never the same as they were before. Nothing can make you feel those places the same way again.”

Didn’t the man understand how Bryce wanted the numbness? It didn’t hurt as much that way.

“I didn’t know your Maggie well, but I know Kenna. I know how much I care for her and our children. And I know if she were gone, I would want to crawl into a hole and die rather than live without her. But I also know I’d have to face her some day in the place after this one, and I would bloody well make sure she wouldn’t be waiting there to blister me for not living the best life I could.”

“It’s easy to say the words. It’s another to live it.”

Lach crossed his arms. “I’m sure that’s true, but if we’re speaking of truths, tell me this. Why are you here?” Clearly, he wasn’t going to give up on this conversation. Perhaps Bryce still had a chance to turn this into a good physical fight.

“What do you mean?” Bryce held his hands out. “I followed you here.”

“Nay. I mean why are you still here, breathing, eating, talking? If you’re committed to only living a sliver of a real life, why not just get it over with? End it and be done with it already. What keeps ye here? Why not take that final step off the battlements?”

Bryce pulled his brows together in confusion and irritation. Didn’t the man just tell him he was a friend? What kind of friend suggested such a thing?

“It would have been easy enough to let yourself be taken in battle, yet you fight hard to survive each time I stand next to ye on the battlefield. Why not let go? Just let it happen?”

Bryce continued to stand there staring at his laird as the last of the day’s sun faded away.