Page 110 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance

Ryland stood tall looking over the men and women who had suffered under Torrance’s cruel rule. People who had bent under the weight of fear for far too long. They deserved the truth.

Ryland’s voice cut through the murmurs like a blade. “Listen well.”

The crowd instantly turned silent.

He kept his voice strong, confident. “I stand before you not as Lord Torrance, but my true self… Chieftain Ryland of Clan MacLeish.”

Gasps and startled cries spread through the crowd, then whispers, mumbles, and several people shook their heads in disbelief.

“Lord Torrance died in the battle with Clan MacLeish. I did not kill him. One of his own warriors delivered the blows thatclaimed his life, though not before Lord Torrance swung a final blow that took the traitor’s life. He told me to take his place, to be him, to revenge his death, to find out the truth if we were related so that Glencairn’s bloodline could continue.

A few heads lifted. Others frowned.

“I recently discovered that Torrance and I are twins. Why we were separated at birth, I don’t know but I intend to find out. With Torrance and I being twins… that leaves me to rule Clan Glencairn.”

Glances darted at one another, tongues wagged softly, and people stared at Ryland, some shaking their heads.

An elderly woman called out, sharp with suspicion. “A lie, is it? A test to see who speaks out and who stays loyal?”

More murmurs followed.

A voice was raised. “He plays games with us.”

An angry growl was heard. “To draw out dissent.”

Ryland raised his hand, and silence followed. “I will never rule you with fear. That ended the day Torrance drew his last breath. I want proof as well as you do, and I will find it. But know this, I didn’t come here to demand your loyalty. I came to earn it.”

Eyes widened, some with hope, some uncertain, but most still fearful.

Ryland kept his voice strong as he spoke. “You’ve lived too long in silence. You’ve lost sons to Torrance’s ambition. Dignity to the never-ending demands he made and the cruel games he played. No more. If you fight, let it be for your future. Not to please a ghost.”

He saw them falter. Hopes surfacing like fragile shoots in frostbitten soil. And yet... fear ran deep, and doubt clung hard.

Then it was like a voice calling out in the dark.

“I CAN PROVE WHO HE IS!”

Heads turned at the shout and a cloaked figure stepped through the crowd, moving with calm certainty.

Ryland watched the man approach, though a hood kept his face hidden.

The man stopped at the bottom of the stairs and drew back his hood.

Patrick.

Brack stepped forward ready to lunge at the man and while Ryland threw his arm out to stop him, it was the cry of a horn alerting the clan of attack that halted him.

“ATTACK!” several people cried out and those who didn’t have weapons ran to get them.

Women rushed their bairns and the elderly to their homes to take cover.

Brack rushed down the stairs to Brenna. “Get in the keep and stay there.”

“The wounded will need me,” she argued.

“They will be brought to the keep. Now go,” Brack ordered, shoving her toward the stairs, then ran off shouting orders to the warriors.

Patrick hurried up the stairs amid the chaos.

---