Page 25 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance

The warmthof the fire did little to ease the ache in Torrance’s arm as he stood near the lone window in his solar, watching as dusk settled over the snow-covered hills beyond. A fresh bandage circled his upper arm, Brenna’s work, though it pulled as he drew the shutters on the window closed, the tapestry falling over it, keeping the cold at bay. He barely noticed the tug to his wound. His thoughts were elsewhere—dark, tangled, and unwelcome.

Brack stood near the hearth, arms crossed, eyes fixed on him like a hawk, intense. "You should have taken someone with you. You may think yourself invincible but today proves otherwise.”

Torrance didn’t turn. “I didn’t need a guard to instruct me.”

“Nay. You needed one to keep you from getting killed.”

Torrance finally turned and looked at him, one brow raised, eyes hard. “They failed miserably in their pathetic attempt.”

“This time.” Brack stepped forward, his boots heavy on the wood floor. “But what if the next blade finds your heart? You go wandering off again without a word, and I’ll be the one telling the clan their chieftain died alone in the woods like a fool.”

“Some of them might welcome that,” Torrance scoffed.

Brack found his response odd. He expected Torrance to threaten suffering on any who would dare speak against him. It confused him and left him speechless.

A long silence settled between them. The fire crackled behind Brack, its light flickering across the worn stone walls.

Finally, Torrance said, “There are things I must do that I cannot speak of… yet.”

Brack gave a snort. “Secrets have a way of biting the man who keeps them.”

“And betrayal hides in the open just as easily as in the dark,” Torrance countered. He moved to the table and reached for the pitcher of ale, filling a tankard with a steady hand. “Which brings us to Chieftain Stuart.”

Brack grimaced as if the name tasted sour on his tongue. “As I’ve warned, he has a thirst for power. He’s not to be trusted.”

“His son’s betrothal celebration is in three days,” Torrance said, then took a swallow of ale.

“And you mean to go?”

Torrance nodded slowly. “Aye, I plan to attend. It’s better to stand in his hall and smile with a blade hidden than leave him wondering why I didn’t come at all. Besides, I can see who attends and learn who leans his way.”

“You’ll go with a sizeable escort,” Brack ordered.

Torrance’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a command?”

“I meant no disrespect, my lord,” Brack said with a bob of his head. “I have a duty to keep you safe, and I do not intend to fail you.”

“I know I can always count on you, Brack.”

Brack studied him for a long moment. Something wasn’t right. Torrance never praised or complimented anyone… not ever. “You’re not the same,” he said at last. “Since you returned.”

Torrance’s jaw tightened. “Maybe a day or two in the stocks would have your tongue being more respectful.”

His response was more like he expected from Torrance. He let it go—for now—but he would keep his gaze sharp and see if there was anything to his observation.

“I will see to the escort,” Brack said. “And double the guards around the keep until then. Whoever came at you today may not be finished.”

Torrance inclined his head. “Agreed. See to it.”

Brack strode to the door, pausing only once, needing to have his say. “One day, you’ll trust me with whatever truth you’re hiding. Just don’t wait until it's too late.”

The door shut behind him with a dull thud.

Torrance stood alone again, the firelight catching the small scarlet stain on the bandage around his arm. He took another swallow of ale.

Who to trust? That was the question that haunted him. He didn’t know yet who the true enemy was, but he had every intention of finding out.

His gaze turned to the fire that had burned low, casting long shadows around the room and one name came unbidden.

---