Page 97 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
She slanted Ross a glance. He gave a small nod that told her he’d been watching her, but he kept his silence.
Twilight fell over the countryside like a shroud. A castle loomed against the horizon, a mammoth structure of stone and brick, marked with towers so high, she’d no doubt one could see for miles from their peak. Imposing and uniquely beautiful, yet gray and dead against the natural flora of the countryside. A place of ancient war and living evil.
Staring into the darkness, she mentally swept away the morbid rot. Cranston was not evil. He was a businessman. He’d conclude their transaction and send her on her way. She had to believe that. Her gaze flickered to the brooch pinned to her traveling suit. She’d come prepared for the worst. She could only pray such precautions were unnecessary.
She met Ross’s cold eyes. A smirk twisted his ugly mouth. “Well, well, seems you’ll be reunited with the brat soon enough. Mouthy little chit, she is.”
“Good for her,” Johanna said, nearly under her breath. “I can only hope her feet left their mark on your shins.”
“Bah.” Ross scowled and stared out the window. Johanna followed his gaze, taking in the monolithic structure she knew to be Cranston’s fortress.
The conveyance slowed to a stop, and Ross led Johanna from the carriage to a massive entry portal. A bronze dragon’s head stared down at her, its expression oddly somber for a creature that spent its mythological days breathing fire and destroying hapless villagers.
The door creaked open, and Johanna wondered if dealing with a dragon might indeed be more pleasant than what awaited her. A tall—not tall, she corrected herself, but towering—man filled the portal. Lean as Munro was burly, he wore a crisply pressed suit that sagged on his lanky frame. His washed-out blue eyes roamed over her before cutting to Ross.
His aged features creased with what looked to be lines of bitterness. “It’s about time ye returned. Her majesty’s got herself riled up. Thinks the two of ye are out to double cross her.”
Ross glanced down at his bandaged finger. He lowered his voice to a rough whisper. “I’m no fool. I know better than to cross that witch.”
Witch. So, she hadn’t misunderstood the old man. A woman was involved in this blood-drenched business—a woman who thought nothing of dragging a child into Cranston’s vile scheme.
Ross seemed to read her thoughts. He slowly shook his head, as if offering a warning. “So, you’ve puzzled it out. The fairer sex ain’t necessarily gentle. Beware of angering the countess. If ye stay on her good side, the brat will probably make it to you in one piece.”
“The countess?” she kept her tone quiet.
“Christ, you’ve said too bloody much,” the old man said, low and surly.
“What does it matter now?” Ross gave a shrug as he caught her elbow in his non-mutilated hand. “She’ll see soon enough.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Connor spurred his mount over the crude roads that led to Granloch Castle. Finn had taken the damnable stone to its next vault, leaving Connor to return to Johanna’s side. Whether the lass wanted to admit it or not, she needed him. She needed his particular skills, violent as they might be. She needed his experience with Cranston’s conniving ways. And she needed to know he was there, defending her with every ounce of strength he possessed.
Not much longer now. The thought stirred the urgency in his gut. Damned if he’d allow Johanna to encounter Cranston’s brutality without being at her side to protect her.
The sunset hovered over the horizon. Before long, darkness would cloak the land. With quick presses of his heels, he urged Phantom on, each sure gallop bringing him closer to Johanna.
Coming upon a patch of woods, he glimpsed what looked like a man lying in his path. Only the dwindling rays of daylight that penetrated the shadows enabled him to spot the motionless form. God above, he’d nearly trampled the helpless bloke.What the bluidy hell—
He slowed his mount, veering around the deathly still body. Gray hair splayed over the grass. A dark blotch stained the elderly man’s back.
Sickening reality slammed into Connor.
Gerard!
Face down in the dirt. Unconscious. Or worse.
Reining Phantom to a halt, Connor swung from the saddle and knelt at his brother’s side. The faint rise and fall of Gerard’s breath eased some of the pain in his gut. He lived. For now.
But where was Johanna? She’d vanished, along with the carriage.
Gently, he turned his brother onto his side. Gerard’s lids lifted, and he studied Connor, as if trying to remember who he was.
“Can you speak?”
Gerard hesitated, then gave a nod. “The bastard shot me. But it’s not bad.”
“Ye’re pale as a specter.”
