Page 81 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
Gerard sank into a chair and stretched out his legs. Powder tinged his hair, remnants of the disguise he’d adopted. “The lass…she’s asleep?”
“Aye.” Connor paced the floor, restless as a caged animal. “I still dinnae think there’s need for yer presence.”
Gerard met his words with a scowl. “Ye always were a stubborn mule.”
“I speak the truth. This isnae yer mission. ’Tis not yer battle.”
“Do ye believe yer the only one who wants revenge against Cranston? And if that she-devil is in league with him—dinnae think for an instant that I do not hunger for retribution, as ye do.”
His brother’s words tore open the wound on Connor’s soul. “I’ve much to regret. Too damn much. God above, after the things I’ve done… I was the one who should’ve gone to that rendezvous. Not Andrew. He couldnae fathom what he was dealin’ with.”
“He wouldnae consider that the woman was evil. He was taken in by a bonny face. Andrew wanted to believe her deceptive ways.” Gerard fixed his somber gaze on Connor. “Can ye be certain ye’re not fallin’ into the same trap?”
“Nay, Johanna hasnae deceived anyone. She’s telling the truth.”
Gerard stared at the ceiling for a long moment, as if gathering his thoughts. “Then ye need to protect her. Keep the lass here. I’ll retrieve the stone.”
Connor shook his head. “I cannae let ye do that. I gave Johanna my word. I will rescue the bairn.”
“Is that so? Ye dinnae trust me to bring the bairn back to her?”
“I gave my word,” Connor said. “I made a vow. I intend to keep it.”
“What’s between the two of ye?” Gerard cocked his head, studying him.
“Nothing that concerns ye.”
“Nay, that’s where ye’re wrong. Ye cannae let a woman make ye vulnerable. Any woman.”
Damn Gerard and his relentless nature. Why didn’t his brother understand that Connor would not be deterred? He shot him a scowl. “I gave my word. That’s all ye need to know.”
“Ye’ve taken a fondness to the lass,” Gerard said, concern coloring his tone. “Dinnae let yer cock be doing the thinking for ye.”
“Ye must have me confused with yerself,” Connor said, deliberately flippant. “It wouldnae matter in any case. After the things I’ve done…a woman like Johanna deserves far better than the likes of me.”
“Bah, ye’ve done what ye had to do.” Gerard stood and walked to the window. He peeled back the curtain enough to peer into the hazy dawn.
“Ye can justify it. But it doesn’t make it easier to swallow. I’ve been in fights that should’ve been on a battlefield. God knows I’ve had another man’s blood on my fists more times than I care to recall. I’ve sent men to their graves. Bluidy hell, Gerard—a woman died, an innocent who didn’t deserve that fate—because of me.”
Gerard spun around, his eyes flashing. “She died at another man’s hand, not yers. Ye tried to save her.”
“But I didnae, now, did I?”
Memory crashed over him like a violent squall. A thief had made off with a rare artifact, a dagger encrusted with precious stones, all the more priceless because of its ties to a powerful Scottish laird who’d governed his clan generations before Robert the Bruce ruled the land. Connor had pursued the bastard with a single-minded focus, finally tracking him to a boisterous tavern in a small Highland village and cornering him in the squalid alley behind the pub. He hadn’t foreseen that the brute would take a hostage, dragging a young barmaid out before anyone could stop him.
He’d had the thief in his sights. One tug on the trigger, and the rotten bloke would’ve met his end. But Connor hadn’t taken the shot. Surely a sane man would concede defeat when staring down the barrel of a gun.
Connor had offered the bastard an ultimatum.Release the girl, or you’ll never see another day.
He hadn’t counted on the thief’s demented roar of laughter.
Or that the brute would break the barmaid’s neck, snapping the slender column like a twig between his fingers.
The pain of the memory pierced him like a dull blade. “I retrieved the dagger,” Connor said. “The Order counted that mission a success. But at what cost?”
“Ye cannae blame yerself. Fate is at times an ugly thing.”
“That lass’s fate was undeserved. If I’d never entered that pub…” Connor rubbed his temples. After so many years, thoughts of that cursed night still tormented his dreams.
