Page 90 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
Johanna touched a fingertip to the blunt end of the comb. “Thank you.”
Brenna flashed a knowing gaze. “Ye’re a brave lass. Ye’ll get through this. And ye’ve got two of the best men I know at yer side.”
“We’ll get the bairn, Johanna,” Gerard spoke up, his voice quiet and calm. For his part, Connor held his silence, observing the discussion with a peculiar sense of detachment.
“We will indeed,” Johanna agreed. She had to believe they would succeed. There simply was no alternative.
Connor gave a nod in affirmation as he holstered his weapons. “That’s better, lass. Doubt makes ye weak. There’s no room for that here. Not with what we’re facing.”
Johanna knew he was right. But agreeing with his words and ridding her gut of sickening fear were two entirely different matters.
“We will find her,” Johanna said. “And then, we’ll both have what we want.”
Emotion flashed over Connor’s features. No trace of arrogance there. Rather, a fleeting sliver of regret set his mouth into a harsh, unyielding line. Shuttering his gaze, he turned back to the task of preparing his weapons.
“Aye. That we will.”
If only the grimness in his eyes did not pose the bitterest of contradictions.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Both of ye louts, watch over Johanna,” Brenna said, the tiniest of tremors marking her voice.
Johanna watched a wry smile tug at Connor’s mouth. “With the weaponry ye’ve provided her, we’re the ones who might need watching over. Ye know the lass possesses a fiery nature.”
Something in the way Connor spoke the words sounded suspiciously like affection. Judging from the glimmer in Brenna’s eyes, she’d also caught the undertone in the Scot’s gruff words.
Heat crept over Johanna’s cheeks. “I doubt the comb could pierce that thick hide of yours.”
“No better than that sharp tongue of yers.”
Strange, how his gravel-edged retort warmed her. If she’d met Connor under different circumstances, would they have forged a bond beyond a single night of passion? Would she be spending her nights in his oak-hewn arms, savoring his heat, and his power, and his tenderness?
She banished the questions to a dusty corner of her thoughts. After this ugly business was done—after Laurel was safely in her arms—Connor would return to his duty, and she would savor peace in a haven of her own making.
“Are ye ready, lass?” Connor’s tone had lost its brash edge. Was that concern darkening his somber gaze?
“Yes.” With a quick hug for luck from Brenna, Johanna joined the men. Soon, this harrowing chapter of her life would be at an end. Pity she’d already lost a piece of her heart to the bold Highlander.
…
Seated on the driver’s bench of the carriage, Johanna took in the majesty of the Highlands. Mountains towered over the landscape, over grass as green and lush as any she’d ever seen. Geese flying in perfect formation squawked overhead. The sun hung low in the sky, its rays gleaming against the crystal clear water of Loch Ness. Such a lovely scene. Not at all what she’d expected for the resting place of a stone reputed to carry a dark, dangerous power.
Following Connor’s lead, Gerard drove the carriage away from the water’s edge, toward the thick groves of trees surrounding the loch. Within the shadowed woods, the surroundings took on a far more forbidding air. This secluded place might well have been a setting for one of her novels. A black bird trailed their path. As the crow settled upon a nearby limb, it cackled mockingly, and a chill prickled the fine hairs at her nape. She fought to ignore the primal warning.
Goodness, her imagination was getting the better of her again. Well, she’d certainly proven how well suited she was to writing of specters and all manner of things that frightened hearty souls.
The blackbird swooped from its perch, seeming to pursue them. Its caw rippled against her ears. The shrill cry echoed against the gloom-shrouded trees.
A messenger shall guide the keepers of the stone.She could picture the words in her mind, as clearly as if she were reading the book in which they’d appeared. She’d researched a multitude of Highland legends in preparation for a story she’d plotted. At the moment, she couldn’t recall the precise source, but somehow, that detail had come back to her.
Connor swung himself from the saddle and surveyed the surroundings. Gun drawn, shoulders squared, eyes alert as a hawk’s for any sign of trouble, he looked every bit the warrior. He stalked toward a rock formation jutting up along the border of the grove, a convenient location for an enemy to lie in wait. Finally, he cut Gerard a look and a nod, signaling him to come forward.
Reaching up, Connor coiled his hands around Johanna’s waist. The heat of his touch penetrated layers of clothing, an instinctive reaction to his nearness. He lifted her easily and set her on the ground, holding her a few moments longer than necessary.
“Stay close,” he said.
Gerard followed close behind, the long gun at the ready. Leaves crunched beneath their feet as they made their way through the woodland.
