Page 15 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance

Esme looked at John.

He shrugged. “Maybe the lad did, but I don’t recall.”

“I believe an apology to John for taking the tools without permission will suffice, don’t you John?” Esme asked.

John caught the warning look in Torrance’s eyes and quickly agreed. “Aye, my lady.”

“And, William,” she said, turning a soft smile on the lad. “You may borrow any tools from the keep you may need as long as you return them.” She turned to her husband. “If that is permissible with you, my lord.”

“It is, since William will begin working with the men who tend the keep and learn how to use the tools properly that he borrows,” Torrance ordered.

“Aye, my lord, I am most grateful,” William said, bobbing his head.

“Go eat,” Torrance said, dismissing the lad and the smithy with a wave of his hand.

The lad hurried off to collect his mum so they could feast together.

The last person, an elderly woman with gnarled fingers shuffled forward and announced, “I’ve come to say my neighbor’s singing is driving me mad.”

Torrance blinked. “Is that so?”

“It’s always sad songs. Dreadful weeping dirges. I haven’t had a cheerful thought in weeks!”

Torrance looked at Esme again. “Solve this, wife.”

Again, the room quieted, and Esme’s stomach churned, fearful she would do wrong.

“Can she carry a tune?” Esme asked gently.

The woman cast a quick glance to another woman, reed thin, standing to the side and scowled. “Sadly, aye.”

Esme realized then that both women were rail thin, and she only recalled seeing them on market day, and together, which meant they probably lived in one of the crofts away from thevillage. And with similar features, she wouldn’t be surprised if they were sisters and came for the food.

Esme smiled softly. “Perhaps your neighbor can limit the singing to daylight hours. And include a joyful tune now and again.”

“A fine solution,” the woman declared with a smile.

“And perhaps on occasion, you and the woman would attend a feast here at the keep, and she could entertain us with a merry tune or two,” Esme suggested, so they would at least eat well a few times within a moon cycle.

“Aye. Aye, she enjoys singing and would probably love to sing for you,” the woman said, teary-eyed.

Torrance brought his fist down on the table and there was dead silence. “It is settled. Grievances are down. Now eat and enjoy.”

A low cheer sounded, followed by chatter, laughter, and feasting.

Esme saw it, the slow blooming of trust, the way wary gazes softened. They weren’t just being judged. They were being heard… fairly.

The question was… when had her husband turned fair?

CHAPTER 5

Esme lifted her face to the lightly falling snow, remembering how, as a child, she’d tried to catch snowflakes on her tongue. She had been young then, carefree. Those days were gone, though lately, she’d been granted a small reprieve. Torrance had departed unexpectedly three days ago having received a message shortly after the grievances had been heard. His absence, brief as it might be, had returned a measure of peace to her days.

Brack had been left in charge, though he paid her little mind. She made certain never to draw his attention just as she did a short time ago when she saw him speaking in whispers with Brenna in the Great Hall. She slipped by them unnoticed.

She didn’t bother pulling up the hood of her fur-lined cloak as she made her way through the village with a particular destination in mind. Let the snow dust her hair. When she was young, she’d believed snow was fairy dust scattered across the land. A soft chuckle slipped from her lips at the memory. How lovely it would be to share such a whimsical thought with a daughter one day.

But the chuckle faded quickly. Giving Torrance a daughter would only bring hardship. Daughters could not defendthemselves the way sons could. Torrance would want strong sons… warriors. Nothing less. She brushed the troubling thought aside and kept walking.

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