Page 40 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
Home…
That word rang with such security and relief that she could not deny it was truly home. Still unsteady, she let Ethan help her back on the horse and they headed home. He stayed close by while she came back to full awareness and when they returned to the castle, she managed to slip from the saddle without Ethan’s help but they had barely made it past the stable’s door when her father came in.
His face was grave and his posture stiff. “Faither?”
“We have a problem,” he said, shifting his gaze between her and Ethan who had come to stand near her. “We made all the people in the castle write out a sentence but none matched. So, we took the search to the village and found a boy, an orphan, about one-and-ten whose hand matches. Clearly, he isnae the perpetrator, but we need him to point out who is.”
Her brows began to knit, and the question was on the tip of her tongue but Ethan got there before she did. “What’s the problem then? If the soldiers took him in, they can take him back to point out who told him to dae it.”
“That’s it,” her father said. “Poor boy is scared to death of soldiers, when they took him in, he nearly collapsed from fright. We need someone who isane going to scare the boy to death and I ken the best would be ye two while I will be looking into other matters.”
Sharing a look with Ethan, she saw his answer in his eyes and the set of his jaw before he verbally uttered it. “If that’s the best…”
“We’ll dae it,” he said, and his hand rested on her shoulder.
Her father’s eyes flicked to the note then back to her and his lips ticked up with a fleeting smile before his expression went grave. “Wait right here and I’ll be back with the boy.”
As he hurried off, and her shoulder brushed his chest briefly. Grasping his arm, she asked, “What dae ye ken we’ll find?”
He dropped a quick kiss beside her right eye. “I cannae say. I dae hope that we’ll find this man but only time will tell.”
16
The thin lad looked like he was one scare from death. His face was pale, and his hands were twitching. Violet had offered for him to ride with her back to the village and he was glad that her arms were on either side of him so he would not fall.
Ethan saw her head dip habitually, asking the boy questions no doubt, but his mind could not stay further than when his eyes traced over her graceful curve of her neck. This way, her striking profile had his heart hammering. Her dark lustrous locks were brushing the collar of her shirt and a stray curl or two twisted to her angular jawline, piquant little chin, and dainty nose. And that mouth of hers…soft plump lips he had kissed thrice, and, if God willing, would taste again.
Dae I regret it…
He shot her another look and stifled a smile. No, he did not regret it, and was sure he would not do so in the future either. Having wrestled with his reservations about her for too long, he was committed to seeing this– arrangement, companionship…relationship?— to the extent, it could be taken to.
Shelving those concerns, he focused on what they were going to do. When Violet’s father had carried the boy into the stables, he asked him the same question he knew the investigator had, just to make sure he was not making things up, or if he was telling the truth, or leaving anything out.
The boy had stuttered his words but his recount of a tall, thin man had Mister O’Cain nodding in agreement that it was the same story he had been told.
“I dinnae see his face, Master MacFerson. It was late and he was wearing a hood so I couldnae see his face,” the boy cringed and a white sheen of panic washed over his face. “Please, please, daenae send me to the dungeons. I never kent it was for the Laird. I—” he broke off to swallow. “I never meant any harm and I dinnae ken much of it when he said to write Finley as they are so many with that name…I…”
Ethan crouched and gave the boy a forgiving smile. “Daenae ye worry, lad, ye won’t pay for this. I kent ye dinnae mean anything by it but if ye could follow us and help us find the man who made ye dae it and ye are free, agreed?”
Now, they were on the road seeking a man with the same description but Ethan privately thought it was a lost cause. Any criminal with a speck of sense would never have stayed around when their crime to threaten a Laird and his son had been delivered.
He believed that Mister O’Cain, his father, and even Violet had the same opinion but he was not going to turn away the opportunity to spend more time with Violet— a lovely young lady with a brave, puckish attitude he admired and wisdom that had earned his respect.
They were nearing the village now and he began to wonder where to start their search. It was good that evening was coming in so quickly as men would be at the tavern and on the streets coming from the farms. Some might even be at the market bargaining their last sale. On any level, they would have a good amount of persons to search through.
Violet was riding near Ethan and was close enough that her words were not lost between them, “Should we stay together or separate? I suppose men will be at the market and the tavern. T’would be faster to cover two points at the same time.”
“Aye, it would,” he replied. “But this man is a prospective murderer, Violet. I ken ye’re nay a delicate flower by any means, but this man is still dangerous. I willnae let ye go off by yerself with this circumstance. I’d never forgive meself if ye get hurt when I could have prevented it.”
Memories of the five years he had trained with his father’s soldiers sprang up with him and he held back a grimace. No favoritism had been shown to him then, not only because it was the fighting men’s policy, but because his father had told the commander to “save his eyes and his backbone, but whip him into shape,” a statement that had been turned into the bane of his life.
Day after day he had been run ragged, woken up way before dawn and went to bed mere hours before he was forced to wake again. Looking back at it now, he had to admit it had made him stronger and fit to serve whenever he was called up, but during it, he had prayed for relief.
“I’ve been meaning to ask ye,” Violet said. “Have ye ever, erm, been in a war?”
He shook his head. “A few skirmishes and battle with migrating reivers but naythin’ much. From the age eight-and-ten to just two years ago I was a part of the squadrons but stopped.”
“Why?”
