Awaiting the Wolf Killer Highlander by Alisa Adams

6

This time, Sorcha did not tell any servants that she and Malcolm intended to leave the castle. She did not even confide in Edmund, even though she was utterly certain that he was her ally.

Even the stablehands could not know, in case one of them chose to give the information to McKenna (or to mention it to someone who might, for that matter). Malcolm and Sorcha slipped out of the castle after nightfall and crept to the stables unseen, selecting a pair of horses and saddling them in near-total darkness. They did not even dare to light a candle, for they could not risk the flickering flame being seen from a distance.

What if someone discovers that I am not in my chamber?Sorcha wondered to herself as she buckled the saddle into place. What will they think has become of me? The entire castle will be in an uproar, poor Edmund will be at his wit’s end…and perhaps worst of all, McKenna might become leader at that, as there will be no one left of Campbell lineage to stand in his way. Am I making a terrible mistake? Should I remain behind after all?

But no.

She could not bring herself to make that choice, not when there was a chance that she might find answers in seeking out Davina’s counsel. She would simply have to make sure they returned long before the first light of dawn so that none would discover they were missing or see them return.

If they were spotted, she knew that McKenna would almost certainly accuse her of frivolously gallivanting about—perhaps even in a tawdry dalliance with her new guard—and he would use that to further assault her fitness to lead.

Sorcha and Malcolm rode side by side through the gloom of night. Whenever the moon came out from behind a cloud and shone its silvery light upon them, Malcolm would motion for them to gallop over to the shadows provided by trees and steep hillsides, making them harder for prying eyes to detect.

Before the darkness swallowed them each time, though, Sorcha could not help but steal a glance at Malcolm, the way the moonlight caught his mischievous eyes, the way it shimmered across the wide contours of his back and shoulders. His short hair bounced around his handsome face, framing the roguish grin that played across his lips.

She wondered what those lips would feel like pressed against her own and became so flustered and distracted that a low-hanging branch rapped her on the forehead, eliciting a grunt of surprise and pain.

“The trees are meant to conceal us, lass, not knock us witless!” Malcolm joked. “How are you to explain a bloody great bruise on your head tomorrow morning, eh?”

“I shall simply tell people I fell out of bed and bumped my head,” she replied primly.

He chuckled. “Aye, I can hear that McKenna bastard now.” He cleared his throat, then spoke in a gruff imitation of McKenna’s voice: “Is this who leads our clan now, eh? A wee lass who cannot even manage to sleep in her own bed without injuring herself?”

Sorcha giggled, then affected a McKenna impression of her own. “Our clan is in peril, and what does she do, eh? Sleep! And she even has the unbridled temerity to make use of a bed for such slothful and shameless activities!”

The two of them laughed long and loud, their preoccupation with stealth momentarily abandoned.

Finally, Sorcha said, “I do not imagine it will be nearly as easy for me to laugh about such things at the point of a sword, will it?”

“Do not lose hope, my lady,” Malcolm told her encouragingly. “We shall find a way out of this predicament for you right enough.”

“And after that?”

He found himself taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?”

“Let us say you are right, and we are able to restore stability to my clan. What then? Have you considered what your reward should be for aiding me and showing me loyalty? Surely you do not expect to simply return to the ranks of the guards?”

“I must confess, I had not considered such things, my lady,” he admitted.

This was true enough, and it almost startled him to realize it. In all of his years of roving, he had always sought out opportunities to make his fortune and improve his station in life. However, he had come to this place to obtain employment, and in having done so, he found himself infatuated with Sorcha and determined to protect her in any way he could.

Without even the merest thought of how endearing himself to her might lead to gold in his purse.

Even now that she had brought it up, he was uncertain of how to respond. What should he ask of a woman such as this, other than the things he knew he was not allowed to ask for, such as her touch or her kiss?

“Would you consent to serve as the captain of my guard?” she prompted.

Malcolm considered it, still at a loss for words.

He dared not ever hope to win the hand of a noblewoman like Sorcha, and so, he knew in his heart that it would be foolish of him to remain in her service when his desire for her threatened to overwhelm him.

It would surely lead to trouble. And he had spent most of his life trying to avoid trouble whenever possible.

“I think not, my lady,” he replied carefully. “If you wish to reward me for my assistance, you may do so with whatever sum you find appropriate. But the truth is, I am at my best when I am a wanderer. I had intended to serve at your castle for a while and then move on to wherever fate takes me next, as I always have. Were I to become the captain of your guard, I might find myself overburdened with responsibilities that it would prove impossible to extricate myself from.”

“I see.” She sounded disappointed. “Well, as you wish. I shall endeavor to conceive of an ‘appropriate sum’ presently, and I hope it will make your travels all the smoother.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence until they reached a small stone cottage at the farthest edge of the Campbells’ lands. Small rows of turnips, carrots, potatoes, and herbs grew outside. A candle burned in the window, and the front door was open.

This old woman rode all this way just to give me that message, Sorcha thought as they dismounted outside her home. But I did not wish to hear it. I did not want to believe that this plague could somehow be my fault…not when I already felt so wretched about being leader in Aodh’s stead.

So I ordered my guards to carry her down to the front gates and throw her out.

Sorcha had heard many fairy tales in her childhood, read to her and her siblings by their mother. In them, witches and spirits often disguised themselves as helpless creatures just to test how others treated them.

She had failed that test. Why, then, should she expect this woman to aid her now?

Malcolm reached out and squeezed her hand, as though he could somehow sense her thoughts. “Try not to worry yourself. She’s a good woman, if something of an acquired taste.”

Sorcha nodded, following him up the path to the front door.

“Come in, both of ye,” a quavering voice said from inside. “I’ve been expectin’ ye, right enough. An’ yer right tae be uncertain that I’d help ye, lass, given the insult ye heaped on me when last we spoke. Were it not for that lad beside ye, I’d curse ye twice over!”

The woman’s words burned in Sorcha’s ears, and she was sorely tempted to turn and flee.

Instead, she followed Malcolm across the threshold.

Davina’s parlor was nearly pitch black. Only her vague shape could be seen rocking back and forth in a chair in the corner, and only because of the dim glow cast by the single candle. The flame created a pair of yellow pinpricks dancing in the hollows of her eyes and shined on her crooked wet teeth when she spoke. The air smelled of soil, mushrooms, bone broth, and dry ages of dust and decay.

“Thank you for seeing us, Davina,” Malcolm said, bowing his head respectfully. “I hope you have been well?”

“I’ve nae been dyin’ of the plague, so all in all, I’d say I’ve been well enough compared tae some!” she wheezed. “So now the lady believes in such things as curses, does she? Now she comes tae Davina, daughter of Elspeth, in search of answers? An’ empty-handed at that?”

Sorcha frowned, confused. “Was I meant to bring something?”

“D’ye mean young Malcolm didnae tell ye, child?” Davina rasped. “When one asks a boon of such a personage as meself, one must bring an offering to avoid givin’ offense!”

“I did not bother to tell her,” Malcolm said, “because I intend to pay on her behalf.”

“Oh, aye? An’ what do ye offer me, then?”

He stepped deeper into the room, becoming little more than a living shadow in Sorcha’s widened eyes as he leaned down next to Davina and whispered something in her ear.

Sorcha waited, goosebumps marching across her upper arms and chest.

The old woman cackled loudly. “Aye, fair enough, ye crafty bugger!” She settled into her chair more deeply, pulling her shawl around her shoulders. “So, as for the curse ye bear, ‘me lady.’ As I tried tae tell ye—afore ye had me escorted out, like—it began four hundred years ago, the last time a lady led the Campbell clan.”

“You speak of Lady Flora,” Sorcha said in a hushed tone. “I have heard tales of her.”

“I can well imagine, seein’ as how she was the one who lost Dunscaith Castle!” Davina guffawed. “That’ll get ye remembered, sure enough, an’ not with kind words an’ roses on yer grave neither! ‘Tis the same curse ye now bear, lass…the one that’ll cost ye the only remainin’ home yer family has.”

“Campbell Castle?” she gasped.

The crone nodded. “Aye, child, the very same.”

“What must I do to put things right?” Sorcha demanded. “Surely there must be something? Else you would not have traveled so far to warn me!”

“Two options are before ye,” Davina croaked. “One is tae retake Dunscaith, an’ somethin’ tells me if it were as easy as that, it would already have been accomplished. The other is tae marry accordin’ tae the prophecy laid down many generations ago: Wed yerself tae one who is a warrior, a wolf-killer, an’ a king. Now go an’ dinnae trouble me again. Our dealings are done for good an’ all, an’ if ever ye seek this house again, ye shall nae find it here.”

“You have our deepest gratitude, Davina, daughter of Elspeth,” Malcolm said with a deep bow.

Then he took Sorcha’s hand and led her out the door.

“Do not look behind you,” he cautioned under his breath. “We must simply mount our horses and ride off without a single glance backward. Do you understand?”

“No.”

“But will you do it?”

“Yes.”

However, as they rode away, Sorcha weakened at the last moment and risked a glance over her shoulder.

The place where the cottage had been now stood vacant.