Sean could feel Rose’s gaze burning the back of his neck as he departed, his heart feeling empty and callous as he rode off in the opposite direction, his world forever changed and making him feel sadder than he ever had before. But had Sean been vigilant, had he not been distracted by the pain and heartache he was feeling—he would have noticed Lord Marcus’ scout watching them all from half-a-mile away and preparing to return to his master to let him know he had finally found the location of Rose MacGillis.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sean rode for half the night before arriving outside the same village that him, Rose, and Kelly had arrived at just half-a-day before, the same village where he had made love to Rose. The same tavern where he felt that his life, for the briefest of moments, had finally taken a turn for the better.
Though several hours had passed, Sean still felt the same emotions swirling inside of him—despair, a lack of resolve, an interminable sadness that consumed him like the potent liquors inside the tavern that he had planned on consuming in order to temporary alleviate his turmoil.
Where do I go? he contemplated. What will happen now? What drive do I have? Where can I possibly go and what can I do to remedy the feelings that tear me apart as they do?
He slid off of his horse and tethered it to a post outside the tavern. A dull glow emitted from the inside of the tavern, and Sean turned his collar up to stave off the night chill as he took his time to walk inside. He was in a complete state of shock, and he knew that his best option was to merely rest for the night and turn off his mind for the next few hours. But he felt a longing to talk, a need to vent to someone, anybody, who would be able to offer him any kind of advice, or a listening ear at the very least.
Sean entered the tavern. Several people were inside. A fiddler was churning out a tune in the corner, and Sean couldn’t help but huff when he heard the somber selection the man had chosen to play as he wandered up to the counter and was immediately greeted by the owner, Lachlan.
Lachlan squinted his confusion. “Wanderer?” he said. “I never imagined ye would be back so soon.”
Sean shrugged, placing his palms flat on the counter to brace himself. He found that he was still trying to lower his adrenaline, his heart still beating as fast as it was when Rose told him the fate of the man, her father, the man responsible for the death of his family.
“Fate took a turn, it seems,” Sean said. “I had to cut my journey short.”
Lachlan tilted his head. “Ye seem troubled,” he replied. “It is practically pouring out of yer eyes.”
Sean nodded. “Much has happened. I don’t know where to begin.”
Lachlan gestured to the shelves behind him, the brightly colored bottles glowing from the lanterns scattered throughout the establishment, beckoning to Sean to dive in head-first and drown his sorrows away.
“Perhaps,” Lachlan said, “something to take the edge off is a suitable start?”
Sean nodded. “Aye. Perhaps it is.”
“What can I fetch ye?”
Sean sighed. “I will leave the choice up to ye, my friend. I am struggling to even find a way to control the rhythm of my heart, right now.”
“Ha,” Lachlan huffed as he turned to the shelves. “I have never heard ye speak in such poetic terms before, my friend. Ye must have had quite a journey.”
Sean watched as Lachlan pulled a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. “That I have. That I have…”
Lachlan pulled two glasses and poured two fingers worth. He then placed the cork back inside of the bottle and pushed one of the glasses towards Sean. “Here,” he said. “I poured ye a little extra. Ye clearly need it.”
Sean held the glass to his lips, the aroma thick and wafting at his nostrils. He hesitated, but only for a moment.
“What should we drink to?” Lachlan inquired.
Sean thought for a quick beat. “The cruelty of fate,” he said before holding out his glass.
Lachlan clinked his glass against Sean’s, the two of them then taking a finger’s worth of a pull in unison and wincing from the harsh quick of the liquor.
The sting of the whiskey coated Sean’s throat, traveling down to his belly and immediately instilling a sense of guilt-ridden euphoria. He placed the glass down, closing his eyes as he allowed the vice to dull his senses.
“Speak, friend,” Lachlan said. “Tell me what troubles ye.”
Sean shrugged. “I was with my companions,” he said. “The two women.”
Lachlan nodded. “One of which ye clearly had a fancy with. Rose, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Aye. That be here name. We…it is complicated, Lachlan. I’m not sure how much ye wish to hear.”
“All of it, my friend. Consider me at yer disposal for the evening. It is the least I can do after all ye have done for me in the past.”
Sean nodded over his shoulder toward one of the tables. “May we sit?” he asked. “Is that alright?”
Lachlan motioned for Sean to lead the way, following right behind him as Sean chose a table in the corner and slipped down into one of the two wooden chairs. He grunted, feeling his bones now weakened and weary from the travel and the emotional turmoil he had sustained.
“Talk, my friend,” Lachlan said. “Speak yer mind…”
Sean took a moment, stroking the glass with his index finger as he played back the history of events in his mind. “How much do ye know,” he said, “about who I am?”
Lachlan shook his head. “Not much. Ye are a mystery, Wanderer.”
“Sean.”
“What?”
“Sean. That’s my name—Sean.”
A beam stretched across Lachlan’s face that stretched from ear-to-ear. “I would have never guessed in ten lifetimes that would have been yer name.”
“What would ye have guessed?”
A shrug. “I don’t know. But Wanderer seems like a more fitting title, based on yer…rugged exterior.”
Sean tilted his head back; the whiskey having dulled enough of his inhibitions that he let out a little laugh. “No,” he said. “Sean is my name. My mother chose it. My wife, actually, liked to call me ‘Whiskers.’ She would never say why. I almost found it quite amusing.”
Lachlan steepled his fingers and leaned in. “Is she what is on yer mind?”
Sean shook his head. “In a way….but it more about how she died, and the man responsible that lingers at the front of my mind.”
“Would ye care to tell more?”
Sean nodded, but he took his time answering. “My wife…my wife and child perished in a fire. For years, I knew that one man was responsible for their death, a Highlander who gave away the location of our village to a lot of Redcoats. Those same Redcoats burned our village to the ground…with my wife and child locked indoors during that time.”
Lachlan closed his eyes. “I am…so sorry.”
Sean held up his hand. “For years, I have sought out the party responsible. I have searched high and low to find the man who pointed the finger and allowed my family to be killed. It was only as of today that I learned the identity of the man responsible…and that man turned out to be the father of Rose, the woman I have…well, taken up with.”
Lachlan looked completely taken aback, staring at Sean with a perplexed expression. “Ye must be joking,” he said.
Sean shook his head. “I am not. And the worst part is that this man perished long ago…so I have no chance at exacting my vengeance, no way of making their death count for something. My journey is over. My mission, my life’s very goal to see that the man who made my family suffered endure the same fate is no longer an option.” He held up his drink. “So, here we sit. Here I sit, struggling to find a meaning or a purpose to continue to go on.”
Lachlan flexed his brow. “This is why you left Rose? Why you disbanded from her company.”
“Aye. I just…cannot bear to look at her, to hear her voice. When I do, I see nothing but my family. I think of nothing but what transpired as a result of what Rose’s
father did.”
Lachlan squinted, a pensive look on his face. “And ye are sure,” he said, “that this is what happened? That this man betrayed yer village for the English?”
Sean nodded, clenching his jaw as the memory of the fire burned bright in his mind. “I have no doubt.”
“How can ye be sure?”
“I was there, Lachlan. I know what happened. I was told by the other surviving member of the village that this man gave away our location for the benefit of the English, and in turn, they burned it to the ground.”
“But ye did not see this man point his finger? Ye did not actually witness this with yer own two eyes.”
Sean was gripping his glass tight. He knew if he squeezed it just a little bit harder that it would shatter to pieces, breaking apart into little shards like his life had after his family had perished.
“How can ye question me?” Sean asked Lachlan. “That day and what happened defined the course of the rest of my life.”
Lachlan held up his hand. “I am not doubting that. But a lot of this sounds like speculation, my friend. Did it never occur to ye that the surviving member of yer village might have been the one responsible for telling the English? Has it not crossed yer mind that he is the one responsible?”
Sean opened his mouth—but no words were evacuated. Such a thought had never occurred to him. He had been so fixated his entire life on that one man, the man with the off-colored eyes, that he had never entertained the possibility of the sole survivor of his village having lied to him. Is it possible? Could he have been the one? My God, it had never even occurred to me before. After all, that man was known to be untrustworthy. God in heaven…could that have been the case? Have I been wrong this entire time?
Sean sighed, leaning in and burying his face in his hands. “It’s…possible,” he said with a depleted tone. “It is possible, aye.”
“I’m not saying it is a certainty, Sean,” Lachlan insisted. “I merely am pointing out that there may be more to the whole story than what ye initially thought.”
“So, what then? I seek out the survivor? I traverse the Highlands to try and find the man responsible.”
“How long has it been?”
“Since they perished?”
Lachlan nodded. “Aye.”
“Six years,” Sean said. “Six, very long years…”
Lachlan folded his hands in front of him. “Sean…has it not occurred to ye to…move on?”
Sean’s eyes went wide. “How can I?” he asked. “How can I let the death of my family just be cast by the wayside? They deserve justice.”
Lachlan shook his head. “But ye are not talking about justice. What ye are talking about is revenge. Ye are talking about setting about a journey to try and ease yer conscious, but my friend, I promise ye, it will not make ye feel any better. It will not ease yer burden as ye are thinking it will. The death of yer loved ones will still linger. Ye will still feel the pain of their absence. Killing the man responsible, whoever that may be, will not bring ye peace. In fact, finding the man who pointed the English to yer village is not going to rectify the matter. It is the men who burned it who are responsible. So, ye find the man who sold ye to the English. What then? Will ye spend yer time tracking down each and every one of the Redcoats responsible fer burning the village down? How long will that take? Will ye even be successful?”
Sean grabbed his drink and sat back, pondering the matter as he stroked his stubble and took the occasional sip. Perhaps Lachlan is right, he thought. Perhaps I’ve gone about this all wrong…
Sean sighed, placing his glass on the table and pushing it aside. “What do I do?” he asked. “Where do I go from here, Lachlan?”
Lachlan smiled. “I think it is quite obvious, is it not?”
“Not particularly.”
Lachlan reached out and placed his hand on Sean’s shoulder. “Sean…life is about…change. It’s about accepting yer circumstances and moving on. Dwelling in the past brings ye nothing.”
A single tear slid down Sean’s cheek. Thoughts of his wife entered his mind, her stunning features and mesmerizing smiling as vibrant as the fire that took her life. “They were my everything,” he said, his voice quivering. “They were all I loved. They were all I ever wanted. I don’t want to forget them.”
“It’s not about forgetting them,” Lachlan said. “It’s about accepting what happened. Ye will always remember them. Ye will always love them. But ye are dwelling on the pain…”
Sean, his eyes bloodshot, looking pleadingly at Lachlan. “Because it’s all I have left of them.”
A pause on Lachlan’s end. “But ye have the ability to allow yer heart to give itself over to others.”
Sean squinted. “What do ye mean?”
“Rose,” Lachlan said. “Ye clearly care for her. I imagine ye did not plan it that way, but it is what transpired. This is what I am talking about, Sean. About life. About change. About accepting the new people that ye cross paths with and knowing that ye have the ability to bring them into yer life. Even if her father is responsible for the death of yer loved ones—she is not. This is a chance for ye, my friend, a chance to be able to take something terrible that has happened and find a silver lining. I do not believe ye when ye say that ye are incapable of looking at her face and hearing her voice. Ye cannot cast love aside that easily.”
Sean nodded. He knew the words to be true. He cared for Rose more than he ever thought possible, and in that moment, as he heard Lachlan speak his truth—he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms, grip her tight, and never let her go.
“What do I do, Lachlan?” Sean asked. “How do I fix this?”
Lachlan squeezed Sean’s shoulder. “Go to her,” he said. “Bring her back. Take her to that place in the Highlands and live yer life. Be happy. Cherish her and the memories of yer loved ones. Know that ye can still have a life.”
Sean’s heart was beating like it never had before. He felt a resurgence of hope, a new lease on life being granted to him. His heart felt full, and his adrenaline was pumping once he reached the resolve to find Rose and never let her go.
Sean stood, slapping Lachlan on the shoulder and sporting a smile as he said: “Thank ye, my friend,” and quickly retreated from the tavern. He untethered his horse, hopped onto the saddle, slapped the reins, and rode as quickly as he could back in the direction that he had arrived from. I’m coming, Rose, his mind raced. I’m coming…
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rose felt as if life itself had come to a grinding halt. All she loved—her people, Sean, her home—had been taken away from her in just a swift few days. She sat perched on a rock where Sean had left her and Kelly, her eyes welling as she rubbed her palms together and tried to figure out why things had gone so horribly wrong.
Why? she thought. Why has all this happened? I’ve lost everything I hold so dear. My people are gone. The man I have developed feelings for has left me.
She hung her head. She felt that her father’s actions, if they were indeed true, had somehow, in turn, made her betray Sean. It was the last thing she ever imagined would have been possible. Rose would have never thought in a million years that such a thing would have transpired—but it did. And now, she had nothing, no one but Kelly at her side. It was the two of them now, two of them against the world—and Rose had no clue or indication of where she should go next.
She stood up, breathing in a huge gust of air as she looked out on the horizon. Everything felt so bleak, so cold, so without meaning. For years, she had fought side-by-side with her people. She felt as if she had purpose, a goal, a mission. But now that they were gone, she felt at a loss. It seemed that the only thing that had brought her any comfort in recent memory was Sean’s presence. She had fought so hard to deny her feelings toward him, to act as if she was not falling for him. But once she had accepted this, once she had allowed herself to open up and let him into her heart, it was taken from her, so abruptly, so briskly.
I guess, her min
d gibbered, this is my punishment for thinking that things could change. What I fool I was to think that things could get better. They only seem to get worse…
Rose felt Kelly coming up behind her, Kelly making it a point to keep her distance but still making her presence known.
“We’ll head out soon,” Rose said. “I just need a moment to collect my thoughts.”
Kelly nodded. “Aye,” she replied. “It looks as if yer mind is running in circles.”
Rose sighed and hung her head. “That it is…”
A pause. “Do ye want to talk?”
Legend of a Highland Lass: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Page 22