Page 116 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
The glow of fire caught the edge of her hair, and for a moment she looked like she had set it herself.
He stepped close and took her face in both hands.
“Listen to me, Amara,” he said, voice low, rough with urgency. “Ye’re worth far more than what that man said. What he called ye. Ye are so incredibly far from nothin’. Ye are everythin'.”
Her eyes shone, wide and brimming, but she said nothing.
“Yer faither and I have both trusted a snake,” he continued, jaw tightening. “And ye went all that way to find somethin’ in that man that has been ripped from him right under his nose. But I swear to ye, I’ll get to the bottom of it. For yeandfor him. I’ll find the truth, and I’ll make sure ye never have to carry this alone again.”
A breath escaped her, shaky and soft. Her hand covered his briefly.
“Rhys…”
But he kissed her forehead instead of answering, and then stepped back.
“Go,” he said to William, voice hoarse. “And guard her with yer life.”
Then William mounted again, hauling Amara up behind him. “We’ll be safe. Ye have me word, Rhys.”
She hesitated. “And ye?”
“I’ll be fine, lass,” he lied.
Her lips parted, but she didn’t argue. She nodded and squeezed his hand.
Rhys watched them vanish into the smoke and trees.
Then he turned toward the keep, and ran straight into the fire.
The shelter beneath O’Donnell Keep had once been used for food stores and winter grain. Now, it smelled of poultices and iron. Of soot and sweat. The air buzzed with murmured prayers and groans of pain, but all Amara could hear was the sound of her own heart thudding inside her chest.
“Lady Amara!”
The small voice sliced through the noise like a blade. Her head whipped to the right, and there she was.
Daisy, hair loose, face smudged, running toward her with bare feet and outstretched arms. Amara dropped to her knees just in time to catch her.
The girl threw her arms around her neck and squeezed, as if afraid Amara might disappear again.
“I kent ye’d come back to us,” Daisy whispered against her neck.
“I’ll nae leave ye again, lassie,” Amara breathed, holding her close. “Nae ever.”
Daisy pulled back just far enough to peer into her face. “Where’s Da?”
Amara smiled gently and smoothed her hair. “Fightin’. But he’s all good. He’ll be back soon.”
Daisy looked like she wanted to believe her — so Amara made sure she sounded convincing. It didn’t matter if her stomach churned with worry. The child needed to feel safe.
A warm hand landed on her shoulder.
“Nina,” she breathed.
The other woman gave her a quick squeeze. “Come. Mabel and Mack need help. They’re tendin' wounded in the back corner.”
Amara kissed Daisy’s cheek. “Go on with Nina for a moment, sweetheart. I’ll be right there.”
She stood and followed Nina to the other end of the shelter, where pallets lined the stone floor. Every face she passed bore marks of war. A bruised brow. A bloodied arm. Some children lay tucked against their mothers. But one face —
