by Donna Grant
He stopped his horse a few yards away and managed to find his voice. “Are you lost?”
A blond brow quirked at his question. “Do I look lost?”
“You are no’ from our clan, nor do you have the look of any neighboring clans.” He shrugged. “So, aye, you appear lost.”
“I’m not.”
She said nothing more, but her accent gave her away. He didn’t know what an English woman was doing in Scotland, but it couldn’t be good. Despite his earlier assumption that she knew how to use the bow, he couldn’t help but be concerned for her.
“You can be on your way,” she told him.
Lachlan bit back a grin. Damn if she hadn’t just issued him an order. “I’m no’ going anywhere, lass.”
She sighed and lifted her chin. “I am not some wilting female in need of a male.”
“I didna say that you were. And I’m no’ offering aid.”
Several moments passed where she simply stared at him. Finally, she looked away, issuing another sigh, this one louder. “You aren’t going to leave, are you?”
He shook his head.
She whirled around, the cloak billowing out around her as she did. That’s when he saw that she wore breeches. He only got a glimpse of her legs before the cloak once more settled to hide her from view. But that brief second was enough to get his blood racing.
With interest and desire.
Lachlan wanted to see her legs again. And now, more than ever, he wished to see the rest of her. Was she really dressed like a man? If that weren’t odd enough, no woman he knew would talk to him as this one did.
“You’re staring,” the female said.
Her back was to him now as she fiddled with her horse. He wasn’t sure how she knew where his gaze was centered. It was most likely a lucky guess.
“So?” he replied.
Her head turned so she looked at him over her shoulder. “I’ll leave the forest. I just want a few minutes.”
“The fact that you say that tells me you have no idea where you are.”
“Scotland,” she retorted.
He rolled his eyes. “Aye, that you are. But you’re also on MacCullum land.”
“I’ve ridden over a lot of territory, and I’ll continue riding onto others,” she said and turned her attention back to the horse.
“Lass,” he said with a sigh. “There is a war brewing between my clan and a neighboring one.”
“There’s always war of some kind.”
“You’re missing the point. You traveling alone as you are could make others believe you to be a spy. Or worse, someone to be kidnapped.”
Her hands stilled. Then she turned and faced him with her arms by her sides. “I’m not a spy. And if anyone dares to try and force me to do anything, they’ll regret it.”
“MacCullum land is vast. If you want to get through the forest without anyone else bothering you, let me escort you.”
“How do I know you’re a MacCullum? For all I know, everything you’ve told me is a lie.”
If those words had come from a man, Lachlan would’ve struck him down. Instead, he swung his leg over the gelding’s head and slid to the ground. As soon as his feet hit the earth, he strode to the woman and unsheathed his sword.
She took a step back and had an arrow nocked in her bow in the time it took him to blink. He was impressed, but his anger didn’t allow him to express it. Instead, he held his sword out so she could see the hilt.
“Look,” he demanded.
Her amber eyes flicked from his face to the weapon. “MacCullum,” she said and lowered her bow. “You could have stolen that. But given the way you carry it and the fury in your gaze, I believe it’s yours.”
He returned the blade to its scabbard. “I fight for my laird. This was his gift to me for defeating our enemy.”
The woman briefly closed her eyes before she put the arrow back into the quiver strapped to the horse. “I really am fine on my own.”
“You might know English ways, but you know nothing of ours, lass,” he told her and gave a short whistle to the gelding, which walked to him. He gathered the reins in his hands. “I patrol this forest to keep others out.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to have an army?”
“They make too much noise. I’m quieter on my own.”
She gave a nod and once more looked at the tree she’d embraced earlier. “I’ve always worked on my own.”
“You might be able to take some enemies, but on your own, you’d be overrun soon enough.”
“Not by men,” he thought he heard her say.
Lachlan frowned. “What?”
“Nothing,” she hastily replied and swung her gaze back to him. “I need to get through the forest quickly.”
“I can do that.”
She pressed her lips together, considering him. He saw she didn’t want to accept his offer. In her shoes, he probably wouldn’t either. But he knew for a fact that there were small bands of enemies wandering the forest, looking for anyone they believed they could take or kill to hurt the clan.
“If you refuse, I’ll only follow you.”
She snorted. “I doubt it. I’m good at covering my tracks.”
“You are no’ good enough to make me lose you.”
That made her hesitate. “If I agree, how soon can I be through the woods?”
“Two days. I know the shortest routes. If you go on your own, you could be here for days more.”
“I doubt that,” she stated. “But I am in a hurry.”
He wanted to ask where she was headed, but she probably wouldn’t tell him, so he didn’t bother. Instead, he mounted the gelding. “We better get moving if you’re in a hurry.”
“Aye,” she said and looked at the oak once more.
Then she walked to the tree and placed her hand on it. She leaned closer, and he could’ve sworn she spoke to it. When she straightened, she kept her gaze lowered while making her way to the mare before climbing onto the animal.
She gave him a nod, and he set off. She didn’t stay even with him, instead preferring to remain a little behind. They rode in silence for several minutes while he thought about what he had witnessed her doing with the tree. She had wanted to remain with it a little longer despite being in a rush. What was so important about the tree? It was probably an answer he’d never get.
“I’m Lachlan,” he said.
There was a brief pause before she replied, “I’m Synne.”
Surely, she hadn’t been named that because someone thought her a sin. She was anything but from what he’d seen so far. He wasn’t much of a talker. Never had been, actually. Usually, women did all the talking, and he found ways to not answer. Now, he was the one with all the questions, riding alongside a woman who didn’t seem to want to utter another syllable.
“Where are you headed?” he asked when he couldn’t stand it any longer.
“North.”
He was perturbed by her reply, but he wasn’t surprised by it. “Any place in particular?”
“Aye.”
Lachlan’s patience was quickly running out. “If you doona want to tell me, that’s fine.”
“I don’t.” Then she sighed. “Actually, I don’t exactly know where it’s at.”
“What’s the name of the place? Perhaps I can tell you.”
“Trust me when I say that whatever is going on with your clan is safer than where I’m headed.”
He glanced back at her. “And the men of your family allowed you to travel alone?”
“I’m a Hunter,” she stated with a flash of anger in her eyes. “I don’t need anyone, much less a man, telling me what I can and cannot do.”
Lachlan was glad that his sister wasn’t here to hear that. Men were made for battle. To ensure the safety of their families. Women were the nurturers, the ones who bore the children and kept the home in order. Lachlan didn’t set the rules. He just abided by them.
“Besides,” Synne continued, “there isn’t anyone left to say
anything.”
He looked at her, but she refused to meet his gaze. Then he saw it, the grief she valiantly tried to keep hidden. She did a good job of it. He might never have noticed had she not said those last words, but now that she had, he was able to see what she fought to keep from consuming her.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She briefly met his gaze. “So will be the ones who took from me.”
3
It was a mistake having the Scotsman tag along. Synne knew it, but she also knew that he would follow her if she didn’t allow him to accompany her. This way, she could keep her eyes on him.
Yet she had to admit she liked having someone with her. If only Lachlan would stop asking questions. She couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know. But the one good thing about the conversation was that it pulled her from her own mind and the constant thoughts circling there.
“I once tracked someone,” Lachlan said. “Revenge is no’ what you think it is.”
“It’s exactly what I think it is.”
He made a sound at the back of his throat. “You’ve never sought vengeance before, have you?”
“You ask that because I’m a woman?”
“No need to get testy,” he said and met her gaze. “I’m merely pointing out that what is driving you to seek revenge now, willna disappear once you’ve gotten what you want.”
She swallowed and looked ahead. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course, it does. Unless…you doona believe you’ll live to worry about it.”
Synne didn’t bother to reply. She didn’t owe him an explanation. He was a means to an end, and that was all.
“Och, lass,” he murmured. “You’ve too much of your life ahead of you to throw it away like that.”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t say that if I was a man.”
“I would caution anyone with the same words, be they male or female.”
Synne cut her eyes to him. “I saw the way you looked at my weapon. There was surprise there. You don’t know what to do with a woman who can protect herself.”
“Aye, I was shocked,” he admitted with a wry twist of his lips. “It isna done here.”
“It is where I’m from. Anyone who wanted to learn weapons was allowed to train.”
“It sounds like an amazing place. Were there many females?”
“Many,” Synne replied softly, thinking of the others.
Lachlan was quiet for a moment. “Doona bury your grief. It will only prolong your healing.”
She didn’t ask him how he knew. Synne thought she covered her grief well, but apparently, not well enough. “I’ll grieve later.”
“You’re going after someone with anger and loss in your heart, lass. That is a recipe for disaster. You need to have a clear head if you’re to win.”
“The only thing I need is to reach my destination.”
Lachlan pulled his horse to a stop and gazed to the right with narrowed eyes. Synne halted her mare and looked around the forest for potential enemies. There were ample spots for someone to lay in wait or to spring a trap. Maybe it was a good thing the Scotsman was with her, after all.
A few moments later, Lachlan’s horse began walking again. Synne looked to the right to see if she could tell what had caught the man’s attention, but she saw nothing. Her gaze returned to him and focused on his broad shoulders. Thick sinew and hard muscle was evident beneath the tartan sash, vest, shirt, and breeches he wore.
There was an intensity about him that she recognized since she had been around warriors for most of her life. But with Lachlan, it was different. As if it were ramped up another notch. She hadn’t seen him in battle yet, but she imagined that he was a sight to behold.
In the back of her mind, she wished she could see him fight. As soon as the thought came, she regretted it. The last thing she wanted was to run into witches while looking for the Varroki. It was most likely inevitable that the Coven would find her, but Synne shouldn’t be hoping for it just to see Lachlan move.
Her eyes drifted lower to his butt. His hips were narrow, his backside firm. She shouldn’t be noticing things like that—not when she was on a mission. But how could she ignore the fact that Lachlan was a gorgeous specimen of a man? She’d never tell him that, but it was difficult to look anywhere but at him.
“You doona know me,” Lachlan said. “And you have no reason to listen, but I hope you’ll heed this advice. Your head and your heart are full of vengeance. It will blind you to things you wouldna otherwise ignore. You shouldna be traveling alone. You need someone to watch your back.”
“There isn’t anyone.”
He sighed loudly. “Then you are riding to your death.”
“If you were in a situation where you had no choice but to hunt someone, or death would come to many, many more, would you ignore the call simply because you’re grieving or there wasn’t someone to go with you?” she asked, turning her head to him.
Lachlan pressed his lips together for a heartbeat. “Nay.”
“Neither will I.”
He seemed to have nothing to say after that. The silence that followed put Synne back into her head, and it wasn’t a place she liked very much. The little time she had interacted with Lachlan had relieved her somehow.
Turning introspective made everything worse. She thought of the worst that could happen and found herself focusing on them and imagining all the horrible things Sybbyl would do to others—as well as thinking about what her death would look like. Her mind didn’t allow her to dwell on anything positive. It was all negative, and it brought her already low state of being into a depression that was quickly spiraling out of control.
The more she tried not to think those nasty thoughts, the more they filled her mind until she wanted to scream. Synne squeezed her eyes closed and fought against the demons of doubt that rose up.
“Talk,” she bit out. When Lachlan didn’t respond, she opened her eyes to find him staring at her. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Please, talk.”
He gave a nod and looked forward. “Sometimes, our thoughts can be our own worst enemies. Tell me why you chose the bow for your weapon.”
This, she could talk about. Synne was grateful to Lachlan, and she would make it up to him somehow before they parted ways. “My teacher, Radnar, made each of us train with many weapons. He wanted to make sure we could defend ourselves with various tools, not just one.”
“Smart man.”
“He was a knight. One of the bravest, kindest men I’ve ever known.”
Lachlan’s gray eyes swung to hers. “He is one that you are avenging.”
It wasn’t a question. Synne nodded. “He was like a father to me, and his wife, Edra, a mother.”
“Radnar must have been very skilled.”
Synne felt a smile start for the first time in days, thinking about Radnar. “He was, but he also recognized that others could teach us, as well. He brought in warriors from all over to add to our lessons. His way worked, although I doubt there would be many who agreed with it outside of our community. He watched us as we trained with different weapons. Most showed skill with at least one, and once he saw which weapon they took to, the training intensified.”
“And yours was the bow?”
“I was accurate from my first shot. It’s like I don’t even have to think about it. I just know what to do.”
Lachlan glanced at her weapon. “What were you training for, exactly? I doona think it was just to hunt for food or to protect others. You make it sound as if Radnar was creating an army.”
“Radnar and the others taught whoever wanted to learn, for whatever reason they wanted to learn.”
Lachlan’s brows rose on his forehead. “Lass, I have an uncanny knack for knowing when someone is giving me a line of shite, which is exactly what you’re doing now.”
“You don’t want to know the truth.”
“Or is it that you doona want to tell me?” he countered.
She shrugged.
“Both.”
“There have been few times in my life where there was peace. My clan is large and verra strong, and that makes others uncomfortable, as well as envious. We’ve been attacked, threatened, and lied to constantly. I tell you this so you’ll know there isna anything you can say that I have no’ already heard.”
“I doubt that,” she retorted.
He snorted and looked forward. “Keep your secrets, then.”
Synne briefly looked skyward into the gray above her and then blew out a breath. What would it hurt to tell him? She wasn’t a witch, and even if he tried to take her, she was positive that she could get away from Lachlan. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she would. Normally, she wouldn’t dare say anything about witches or the Coven, but there was a war brewing that could threaten everyone, whether they knew of witches or not. So, perhaps now was the time to talk.
“You may discount what I’m about to share with you. Be forewarned that everything I say is the truth. I tell you in case we don’t win the battle. You’ll need to prepare your clan and as many others as you can.”
Lachlan’s gray eyes met hers, waiting for her to continue.
“Radnar was a knight, but Edra was a witch. They set up a place in the forest as a sanctuary for anyone seeking to escape the Coven. The abbey was my home, and it was destroyed. The Coven is a set of witches who take whatever they want and kill whoever they wish simply because they have magic. They wanted Edra, but she fought against them and won. From then on, she and Radnar took in abandoned children and gave them a home.
“For years, the two of them went out to hunt Coven members. As the children grew and trained, some of them joined in the hunt. We became Hunters. And we thought we were making headway.”
Lachlan asked, “How can someone without magic battle a witch?”
“Edra infused our weapons with magic to give us an advantage.”
The Scot, keeping his gaze forward, nodded for her to continue.
“One such Hunter, Leoma, was tracking the Coven when she stumbled upon a man who was after the same witch. He was a lord, and the two of them worked together. They learned the Coven was after the bones of the First Witch.”