Page 30 of Her Reluctant Highlander Husband

“Nay, it’s true. I even heard her singing when I was watching her at her cottage. Look, there’s the dog over there. She must have crossed the creek.” It was Rory who spoke, but she couldn’t see him.

The men’s heavy footsteps faded away but she remained crouched in her hiding place. Good lord. Her brother and cousins were here. What did they want? Had they been responsible for the fire at the cottage?

She couldn’t see what was happening. She shook with worry for her dog. What if they killed him because he was protecting her? But to jump from the bushes would mean certain death for both of them.

She pressed her forehead harder into the rock and jumped when she felt a stick poke her in the foot. She looked up at Rory. She almost smiled in relief, but then she remembered the danger.

Rory had once brought her a meal and had been beaten for it. No doubt he hated her now. It wouldn’t surprise her if he called for her brother and turned her over to him so he could earn their praise and respect.

She stared at him, begging him with her eyes not to call her out. Slowly he raised his index finger to his lips, bidding her to be quiet. She nodded at once. He tapped her foot again, silently telling her to move it beneath the bush.

Tucking her long legs in as tightly as possible, she looked up to thank him, but he had moved on without a word.

She remained in her hiding spot until the sun set and the noises from her hungry stomach drowned out the night sounds of the darkening forest around her.

Rascal had returned to her hours ago. He’d left twice again but hadn’t growled or seemed alert to any danger. Still, she wasn’t willing to risk exposure. Not when her brother was out there.

…

Bryce had seen enough to know Clan MacKinlay had an issue with intruders. He’d found at least ten separate tracks coming from the McCurdy land onto theirs. Most were fresh, which meant they could have been made when the buggers had come to set the fire at the cottage.

They’d found a piece of McCurdy plaid then, clear evidence they had been there.

But confronting the McCurdy would do no good. He was no doubt behind the intrusion and would defend his men. A mere scrap of fabric wouldn’t be enough. Bryce would need irrefutable proof the McCurdy clan had come unwelcome onto MacKinlay lands. Not that they needed yet another reason for war.

Settling in to wait, he set up a small fireless camp and thought of how his clan might win a war against the McCurdys. Bryce wasn’t looking forward to visiting the Campbell clan to ask for assistance.

It wasn’t that his father was a horrible man. It was the opposite, actually. Nothing seemed to get the man down. Not the death of Bryce’s dear mother. Definitely not that. Every time he lost a wife, he was quick to replace her with a new and younger version.

To his father, marriage seemed to be nothing more than a state to keep oneself cared for. And…as evident by the number of half brothers and half sisters Bryce had, their father also took fair advantage of the marriage bed.

Bryce thought more of marriage. It went beyond having a place to put his cock and someone to mend his shirts. Marriage was reserved for the person one wanted to give their heart. A partner. The person who made life complete.

When one loved someone like that, the person was not so easily exchanged, if ever replaced.

His mother had once told him lightning didn’t strike the same place twice. She would probably be saddened to see how many times lightning had struck his father.

In the dark, surrounded by the sounds of the woods and the animals that lived there, it was easy to feel as if his mother could be there with him. Or Maggie. Perhaps it was the magic of the forest, but he also imagined Dorie looking up at the star-filled sky, noticing the same patterns as he. From there it was easy to recall sharing a bed with her.

He’d been able to pull Dorie against him and breathe in the scent of her hair, feel the softness of her skin. His cock grew hard at the memory and he scowled up at the night sky.

He had the ability to conjure up any fantasy he wished here in the dark. Why would he think of Dorie instead of his beloved Maggie? Dorie had been forced on him, so his reality was filled with her. His thoughts should still be loyal to his first wife.

The wife of his heart.

Except as he lay there, he couldn’t recall the smell of her. Couldn’t hear the sound of her laughter or her voice. He remembered things they’d said to one another, but the timbre of her whisper in the dark eluded him. When he envisioned touching her, her features transformed into those of Dorie.

“Christ.” He was losing Maggie.

When he’d been numb with the pain of Maggie’s death, everyone had told him it would get easier. Time would heal his pain. But it was no more than an illusion. Nothing healed the pain. Time was a bastard who stole away his memories so he could no longer summon enough details to feel that level of pain anymore. It was nothing but a cruel trick.

Despite his irritation, he must have drifted off. A twig snapped, waking Bryce fully. He blinked, trying to recall where he was and why he was sleeping rough in the woods. The events from the day before filled in and soon he was crouched in the bushes watching as three men wearing McCurdy plaid trudged by. It was difficult to see their features clearly, but they were the same size of the men who had brought Dorie to Dunardry.

“I can’t believe you let her get away again,” Wallace McCurdy barked at his cousins.

“Ye were there, too. It wasna only my doing. That blasted dog. If we have any chance of getting to her, we need to kill the dog.”

“I don’t kill dogs. I’m not a monster.”