Page 23 of Highlander Unraveled
Just then, Shona rushed from the castle, her face pale, eyes wide, and hair in disarray. She looked from Ewan to me, and back again, her mouth forming an O of surprise.
“Emma…” she started to say but trailed off.
Ewan walked toward her with wide steps, pulling her into his embrace and whispering something against her ear. The show of affection, the comfort they sought from each other, only brought me pain. I winced and looked away.
I needed a drink. A strong one. My legs felt heavy as I lifted them, taking one step at time until I could reach the castle, when what I really wanted to do was set up camp in the glen and pray that my wife returned to me.
What I wouldn’t give to have her back. I’d give up Gealach, my position as the king’s servant. I’d live as an outlaw the rest of my days if only I could have her back.
And even as I thought it, I could see her frown. See her wag her finger at me when she didn’t like what I was doing. She’d not want me to give it up. She’d want our son provided for. But didn’t she understand? Didn’t she know how very much I depended on her? I had not lived before she came into my life, merely existed.
I didn’t bother with the great hall but headed straight to my library, opening the door with enough force to cause it to slam into the wall, disrupting a painting that Emma had placed there the previous year. ’Twas a picture of us both, one that had been commissioned shortly after our wedding.
She said it was tradition to have a portrait done of a wedded couple where she was from, and I’d agreed, though I wondered if the reason she’d wanted it now was so that I had something to look upon when she disappeared. A piece of evidence that she was real.
I studied the painting of us both. The artist had captured the excitement in our eyes, our love. The secret curl of our lips. She looked like a red-haired angel, and I the devil who’d caught her. Her hand was reaching across my middle, touching my sword, and one of my arms was around her, the other touching her elbow, as though I were leading that arm to my sword.
That was a telling sign; a show to any who would look that Emma wasn’t just my wife. She was my partner. My other half. Her disappearance left a gaping wound in my chest.
I turned from the painting and headed to the sideboard. Pouring more than a few drams of whisky into my cup. I needed it. Needed to feel the burn of liquor sloshing down my throat.
After downing the entire cup’s contents, I considered refilling, or perhaps simply drinking from the jug, to feel nothing. To bring on the numbness that such quantities of liquor would afford me.
But I didn’t. Instead, I whipped toward the hearth and hurled the cup into its barren black mouth.
The mug clattered against the stone, but didn’t shatter, for it was made of metal, and even as angry as I was, as much as I needed to destroy something, I couldn’t make metal break.
“I’ve sent a messenger,” Ewan said from behind me.
I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t turn around. My breaths were heavy, my heart pounding. I didn’t want him to see my pain, to know for a fact that my heart was rupturing. That I was weak after all.
“Tell me when they arrive. Now, leave me.”
Ewan muttered something and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
I picked up the jug of whisky and whipped it toward the hearth. Constructed from earthenware material, it did shatter into a hundred jagged shards.
But instead of feeling satisfied, I was only filled with frustration.
7
Moira
Ibasked in sublime pleasure. What naughtiness we got away with in the year 1544 was completely different than had the date been of a modern era…
Rory was supposed to be working.
He was supposed to be occupied with his lairdly documents, and then there was the usual training of his men.
But I’d kept him from leaving our bedroom.
And he couldn’t get fired for being late because he was the one in charge.
His head rose, lips glistening, from between my thighs, where he’d licked and sucked until I came so hard, my hips literally bucked from the bed.
Damn, but he was good at that.
I stretched lazily, my legs still spread wide for his viewing pleasure.
