Page 37 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
He swung his legs out from under the cover and dragged a shirt on. The warm bath earlier this morning had soothed him somewhat, and sleeping free from all his sweat and muck from last night had been delightful. Now, he had to find Violet and speak to her.
But even before he had his boots on, his father barged through the door, his bearded face white as a sheet. His head darted up in fright. “Father? What is it?”
The man slammed his hand on his bedside table and a sliver of paper that his father’s palm had hidden nearly fluttered to the floor.
“Finley wasnae the only target, Ethan,” his father’s words were heavy with distress. “I came back from the village with Mister O’Cain and found this in me rooms. Go ahead, read it.”
Trepidation lanced through Ethan as he took the note up but looked to his father first. Swallowing, he read.
Finley is dead and buried, which one of ye is going to be next, ye or yer younger son?
15
Humming a cheery tune under her breath, Violet was fixing the rumpled sheets on her bed when her father came in. With one look to his face, her happy mood fell and she felt fear creep up her spine. “Faither? What’s wrong?”
“Ye need to come with me, Violet, something has happened,” he said strictly, “And thank yer stars I amnae able to talk about the extremely dangerous thing ye did with Ethan in Sellek and Turren.”
She paled. “Ye…ken about that?”
His lips thinned, “Of course I dae, Violet. About seven people told us about the visit from the Master MacFerson and theladhe had with them dressed, coincidently, like that old costume of yers. I felt me heart sink when they told me, but Master MacFerson was there with ye. I kent it hadnae been so bad and even more, ye found the trail to the O’Bachnon woman. But that aside, we must hurry, come now.”
Dropping her sheets, Violet hurried off with him and they strode to a room she had never been in before. She barely noted how somber it was on account of seeing Ethan in a chair with his elbows hunched over his knees. His father, pacing behind the desk, stopped midstride and faced them.
“Ye’re here,” he nodded to her. “Please, sit, Miss O’Cain.”
Still alarmed, she sat and shared a worried look among the three men. Ethan still had not moved and the silence was like a living pulse in the room before the Laird broke it. “Mister O’Cain, what dae ye ken of the note?”
“Note?” she blurted. “What note?”
Finally, Ethan straightened and handed her a slip of paper that had miraculously survived his clenched fist. Smoothing it out, she read quickly and felt ice begin to encase her chest.
“…Dear Lord,” she whispered in dread. Looking with fearful eyes, she asked, “When did ye find this, Laird MacFerson?”
“Sometime this morn when ye faither and I came from the village,” he said, lips thin and bloodless. “I’m nay taking any risks as I am needed here. Ethan is going into hiding. That way I can be sure he’s safe while I can protect meself.”
A sinking feeling began to carve its way into Violet’s stomach. Ethan was leaving and though it was for the best—his life was at stake— she wished he did not have to.
“Wait,” her father said, as he reached for the note and read it. “I dinnae ken ye should run just yet. If he is counting on ye to run, he might take advantage of it and attack ye unawares.” Handing the note back, he added. “Ye cannae show yer fright now, or else whoever is behind this, wins. Laird, to yer knowledge, how many of yer people can read and write?”
Clearly confused about where her father was going in his line of question, the Laird did not ask but said, “A fair number, O’Cain, me faither was a man strident on learning and made sure to put teachers in the village who went about educating the people. Those who learned made sure their children did too.”
Violet—if her suspicions on what her father was aiming for, that only a few were educated that way—knew that he was disappointed, even if he did not show it. With a nod, he went on to prove his assumptions, that he would examine all the people around them, to be right.
“What we should dae is, have everyone in the castle who can write, write something down and we can compare their hand to this one. If needs be, we will extend the search,” he said. “But for now, ye need to act with rationality and caution. When we get the papers back, we’ll decide what is to be done.”
While he was speaking, her eyes were on Ethan, whose face was still blank. His eyes were far-away and his shoulders were slumped. There was no expression on his face that she could use to assume what was on his mind. She feared that he was pushing the issue to the back of his mind, trying to not think of the severity of the danger he was in. Her father and Laird MacFerson’s conversation faded to the background as her attention was solely placed on Ethan.
As the moment passed by, her worry for him began to elevate and she wanted to reach out and touch him but held back. Her attention was dragged back when her father spoke. “I suspect the culprit is nearer than we are aware.”
His troubling declaration had Ethan finally facing them. His face was guarded and his jaw set. But the glimmer in his eyes was one of a man fully aware of his surroundings, not disconnected as she had feared.
“Is that right?” he said. “How close dae ye suspect?”
“Close enough to walk through the halls and slip into yer faither’s study without raising alarm,” her father said. “Anyone who is that familiar is overlooked by those around them and whoever it is, is doubly dangerous.”
“Should I change me habits?” Ethan asked. “Should I avoid riding or going to the stables?”
“Nay,” her father said and emphasized it with a shake of his head. “That would draw attention in the worst way. Keep doing yer activities but be as close to the castle is ye can.” He then turned to her. “If ye want to, ye can accompany him on yer daily rides.”
