“Do not send for Meagan, please…” his word were slurred and he fought not to sleep. “I beg ye, Tavish.” He hated it when a tear slid down his face. “I must compete tomorrow or any chance for me as an archer is gone.”
There was doubt in Tavish’s gaze. “Ye will be fine, lad.”
“My God, Valent, what happened to you?” Meagan’s worried eyes took in his bruised face. A sad sight he must be. Valent groaned, squeezed his eyes shut and prayed she did not bring her daughter. The fair Lora would never look upon him with admiration, not after seeing him like this.
Meagan placed a wet cloth on his brow. “One day you will grow to be broader and bigger than whoever did this and you will take your revenge. Poor thing, look at you.”
“You won’t be able to compete for the archer guard now.” Lora’s familiar sing-song voice made Valent cringe.
Tavish coughed and cleared his throat. “Of course, he will. And teach the lot of them how much better he is.”
Even though there was pride in Tavish’s words, they angered Valent. It was doubtful he’d be considered. Especially since losing his prize kill when running from Donall and his brothers.
The next day each step brought a streak of pain up Valent’s right leg, but he refused to use a walking stick for support when going to the main keep. He entered the dark interior ensuring to take measured steps. Just inside a small antechamber, a high-pitched voice called. “What happened to you?” Ariana, the laird’s daughter’s rounded eyes met his before taking in the rest of his face. The girl didn’t move from the chair where she lounged while continuing to study him.
The color of autumn leaves, he’d never seen eyes like hers. The first time he’d seen her up close, he was seven years old and she a child of about four. He never forgot her coming to him and attempting to take his hand, asking him to play with her.
“Your brothers,” he replied to the young girl who gasped, her mouth forming an “O.”
“They are no better than the beasties they hunt,” she told him and came closer to inspect his injuries. “Da won’t do anything to them. Ye may as well just go back home.” She shrugged as if no longer interested and returned to her seat.
Footsteps sounded and he whirled to find the laird standing in the doorway. “What are you doing in here?”
“I called him in,” Ariana piped up behind him. “He was limping and I wanted to know what happened.”
The laird’s gaze was cold and distant when meeting his. “You’re the boy Tavish took in are you not?”
Valent bowed his head. “Aye, my laird.”
“I hear good things about your archery skills.” The laird’s comment surprised him. “I suppose your injuries will stop you from competing tomorrow.”
“Nay. I will compete still.” He gulped back at not addressing him correctly. “I beg forgiveness, my laird, you did not ask the question of me.”
“’Tis fine.” The man waived his apology away. “How did you become injured?”
Realization dawned. It was best not to confess the truth of his injuries. If the laird became angry with him, it would be impossible to win a place with the archer guards. He’d remain a stable boy with no aspiration to ever defend his people, his laird.
The laird lifted a brow in question. “Well?”
Ariana got to her feet and stood beside her father. “Donall, Ceardac, and Beathan beat him.”
Of course, the girl would enjoy seeing her brother’s punished. The fact the boys would then take it out on him was not something she’d ever consider.
“Go to your chamber, Ariana.” The laird let out a weary breath before addressing him.
“So the hunting prize, the doe, presented yesterday was not Donall’s kill?” The laird waited on his reply, his gaze without warmth.
Valent knew his best chance at the laird allowing him to compete without a kill would be based on how he answered. “I was not at the presentation of the kills, as Tavish was tending to my wounds. Therefore, I canna say, my laird.”
The McLeod nodded and looked away. “I see.”
He hoped the laird would allow him to compete, but when permission was not forthcoming, he waited to be dismissed. Instead the laird turned away from him. “I’ve always wondered.” The laird paced with his hands grasped behind his back. “Who took you from your home to deposit you at my doorstep and why? You were but three or four at the most. When the housekeeper found you, it was as if you’d just been promptly deposited. Not overly malnourished, nor mistreated. Barely able to speak as you were too young. And you don’t remember anything?”
Although he wanted to leave and immediately see how well he could shoot, hearing of his arrival made him curious. Tavish had discovered him when he’d been fighting for food scraps in the courtyard. The old man had taken pity on him and took him to live with him. He’d already been at the keep for a few weeks by then.
“I would one day like to know where I came from. Why I was abandoned. I only vaguely remember a brother, a boy.”
“You may compete tomorrow. Without a kill to your name, it will take great skill to beat out the others.” The laird eyed his bruised face and bandaged left wrist. “With your injuries I doubt ye will overcome.”
“Thank you, my laird.” Valent bowed his head. “By the end of the day, I hope to pledge my bow and myself to ye.”
Finish Reading Highland Archer by clicking here.
About the Author
Most days USA Today Bestseller Hildie McQueen can be found in her overly tight leggings and green hoodie, holding a cup of tea while stalking the lawn guy. In the afternoons, she browses the Internet for semi-nude men to post on Facebook.
Being a full-time writer is no joke; the co-workers are dogs, no one cleans the office and the only human contact is usually carrying a package and in a hurry to leave.
Author Hildie McQueen loves unusual situations and getting into interesting adventures, which is what her characters do as well. She writes romance because she is in love with love! An author of historical and contemporary romances, she writes something every reader can enjoy.
Hildie’s favorite past-times are reader conventions, traveling, shopping, and reading.
She resides in beautiful small-town Georgia with her super-hero husband Kurt and three doggies.
Visit her website at www.hildiemcqueen.com
Facebook: facebook.com/HildieMcQueen
Twitter: twitter.com/HildieMcQueen
Instagram: instagram.com/hildiemcqueenwriter
Enticed by the Highlander: The Moriag Series Page 26