Page 60 of Desiring the Highland Laird
Chapter Twenty-One
Evie perched onthe bed. Her insides twisted into a tight knot. She didn’t know Hamish that well, but the idea that he was gone was like a knife to her heart.
“Callum, what happened out there?”
His expression was stony as he continued to stare at the wall hangings. He dropped his hand to his side and clenched his jaw, the muscles working there as he decided how to answer.
“We rode out to meet them. There were a dozen of them.”
She quickly did the math. Callum, his father, and his brother were sorely outnumbered and yet they battled them anyway.
“Da with his claymore,” he added. “And Malcolm, too.”
His eyes took on a faraway look as he remembered. She glanced at his hand, saw the blood and mud still caked there under his nails and warded off a shudder. Her imagination ran wild with images of him swinging his sword. She hadn’t any idea what a claymore looked like, but she assumed it was a big-ass sword.
“And you, too?” she asked.
“Aye. We dinnae expect to use them.” He paused, swallowed hard. “We dinnae even have time to dismount before they were on us, swinging their swords and trying to kill us.”
She shivered as a chill crawled through her. She couldn’t bear the thought of Callum dying.
“Da is—was—skilled with a sword. He killed three of them straightaway. And Malcolm, too. He’s good with a sword.”
He paused a moment and then continued on with his story. They were outnumbered, sure, but they held their own. When Rory MacDonald swung his great axe, it connected with his father’s gut, nearly slicing him in two.
“He said that was a warning,” Callum said, turning to look at her. “That he would be back to wipe out the rest of us in time.”
Fire blazed in his bright blue eyes. Fire and anger and hatred. There was a lot of hate between the two clans.
“That great axe is what killed my da.”
She had no reason to disbelieve him, but she did have a question. “How could the great axe of Rory MacDonald be in this image?”
“Mayhap it was passed down to him from his ancestor. The way Da talked, the Shattering happened long ago.”
“How long ago?”
“Centuries. During the dark times.”
She stared at the tapestry. The one of her sister’s image was clearer. She walked to that one, standing close to get a better look at it. Behind her, Callum lit the candles in the room to give it more illumination. He stood behind her, peering over the top of her head at the image.
“Yer sister?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
The shadowy figure was behind her and still had not become clear.
“This wasna here before,” he said.
“No,” she agreed. She glanced to the wall hanging next to the one of her sister. It was still devoid of an image as were the remaining hangings. “The images are moving and changing as time goes by. Do you think this is showing what will happen next?” She pointed to the one of Chloe and the shadowy figure.
He said nothing but ahmmdeep in his throat. She felt the rumble of his chest behind her. It sent a delicious little shiverthrough her. It made all her parts stand up and take notice. As much as she wanted to turn and fall against him, she forced herself to remain in place. She craned her neck to look up at him. Though she had stood next to him before, she was still amazed at how tall and broad he was.
His gaze was fixed on the wall hangings as he looked at each and every one of them. She wondered then if he still didn’t believe in the prophecy or what he saw there. His hand slipped into his sporran and then he froze.
“The keystone…” His face drained of color. There was an unmistakable panic in his voice. “It was in my sporran when I rode out to face the MacDonalds.”
Hot pinpricks of fear pounded through her. His gaze met hers and she saw the alarm deep in them. Alarm that she also felt within her, shuddering through to the marrow of her bones.
