Page 104 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

"Ineed to ride out today."

David watched Elinor's face carefully as he said it, looking for signs of the anger that had flared between them before. But she simply nodded, setting down her morning tea.

"Where?" she asked.

"North border. We've had reports of more of Langley's men in the area." He reached across the table, taking her hand. "I wanted ye tae ken. Nae leave without tellin' ye where I was goin'."

Something softened in her expression. "Thank you. For telling me."

"I promised I'd try tae include ye instead of shuttin' ye out." He squeezed her hand.

"I know. And I appreciate it." She paused. "How long will you be gone?"

"Most of the day, probably. Maybe into the evenin' if we find somethin’." He stood, moving around the table to kiss her forehead. "I've left instructions with the guards. Ye can go anywhere in the castle or grounds. Just stay within the walls, aye?"

"I will." She tilted her head back to look at him. "Be careful."

"Always am." He kissed her properly this time, tasting tea and honey on her lips. "I'll be back before ye ken it."

The patrol started uneventfully. David rode out with twenty men, all veterans he trusted. They swept north toward the border, checking the usual spots where Langley's scouts had been seen.

For the first few hours, they found nothing. Just empty hills and cold wind.

Then Tristan, riding point, raised his hand in warning.

David urged his horse forward. "What is it?"

"Tracks. Fresh." Tristan pointed to the muddy ground. "At least five horses. Maybe more."

"How fresh?"

"This mornin'. Maybe an hour ago."

David's jaw tightened. "Fan out. Stay alert."

They followed the tracks into a narrow valley. David didn't like it—too many places for an ambush, too little room to maneuver. But turning back meant letting Langley's men operate freely on MacDonald lands.

That wasn't acceptable.

"David." Tristan's voice was low, urgent. "I dinnae like this."

"Neither dae I. But⁠—"

An arrow whistled past David's head, close enough that he felt the wind of its passage.

"Ambush!" someone shouted.

Men poured out from behind rocks and trees. Not many—David counted six, maybe seven. But they'd chosen their position well, the high ground and surprise on their side.

"Form up!" David drew his sword, his horse dancing beneath him. "Protect yer flanks!"

Steel rang as David blocked the blow from the man coming at him, the impact shuddering up his arm. He grit his teeth—it wasn’t some frightened boy or drunken fool. That man knew how to fight.

Another figure moved at the edge of David’s vision. Too close. Too coordinated.

With a surge of force, he drove forward, knocking the first attacker off balance, then pivoted and slammed his elbow into the second man’s jaw. Bone crunched. The man went down.