To Tame A Highland Warrior

Page 90

“Jillian, the entire valley was wiped out. I suspect it will be completely deserted. We’ll be lucky if the caves are still passable. A lot of the passageways shifted, even collapsed into rubble during the years I played there.”
“More reason to go to the castle,” she said quickly. “It sounds as if the caves are dangerous.”
Grimm expelled a breath. “You’re persistent, aren’t you, lass?”
“I’m just so cold,” she whimpered, pushing away the guilt she felt about being deceitful. It was for a good cause.
His arms tightened around her. “I’ll take care of you, Jillian, I promise.”
“Where are they, Gilles?” Ronin asked.
“Nearly three miles east, milord.”
Ronin plucked nervously at his tartan and turned to his brother. “Do I look all right?”
Balder grinned. “ ‘Do I look all right?’” he mocked in falsetto, preening for an imaginary audience.
Ronin punched him in the arm. “Stop it, Balder. This is important. I’m meetin’ my son’s wife today.”
“You’re seein’ your son today,” Balder corrected.
Ronin cast his gaze to the stones. “Aye, that I am,” he said finally. His head whipped back and he glanced at Balder anxiously. “What if he still hates me, Balder? What if he rides up, spits in my face, and leaves?”
The grin faded from Balder’s lips. “Then I’ll beat the lad senseless, tie him up, and we’ll both be talkin’ to him. Persuasively and at our leisure.”
Ronin’s face brightened considerably. “Now, there’s a plan,” he said optimistically. “Maybe we could do that straightaway, what say you?”
“Ronin.”
Ronin shrugged. “It just seems the most direct course,” he said defensively.
Balder assessed his brother, his nervous, callused fingers smoothing the ceremonial tartan. His sleekly combed black hair, liberally sprinkled with silver. His jeweled sgain dubh and velvet sporran. His wide shoulders and not-so-trim waist. He stood taller and with more pride than Balder had seen him stand in years. His blue eyes reflected joy, hope, and … fear. “You look like every inch a fine laird, brother,” Balder said gently. “Any son would be proud to call you da.”
Ronin took a deep breath and nodded tightly. “Let’s hope you’re right. Are the banners hung, Gilles?”
Gilles grinned and nodded. “You do look regal, milord,” he added proudly. “And I must say Tuluth has made a fine showing for us. The valley fairly sparkles. Any lad would be pleased to see this as his future demesne.”
“And the Hall of Lords, has it been cleaned and opened? Are the torches lit?”
“Yes, milord, and I’ve hung the portrait in the dining hall.”
Ronin gulped a breath of air and began pacing. “The villagers have been informed? All of them?”
“They’re waitin’ in the streets, Ronin, and the banners have been hung throughout Tuluth as well. It’s a fine homecoming you’ve planned,” Balder said.
“Let’s just hope he thinks so,” Ronin muttered, pacing.
Grimm’s fingers tightened on Jillian’s waist as Occam carefully picked his way up the back pass to Wotan’s Cleft.
He had no intention of taking Jillian to the cold damp caves where a fire could smoke them out if the wind suddenly changed course down one of the tunnels, but from the Cleft he could assess the village and the castle. If any part of it was still standing, he could scan for smoke from a hearth if anyone inhabited the ghost village. Besides, he preferred Jillian to see immediately what a desolate place it was so she might wish to hurry on to Dalkeith as soon as she was able. She seemed to be making a rapid recovery, although she was still weak and complained of intermittent queasiness.
The sun topped the peak of the Cleft. It wouldn’t set for several more hours, allowing him ample time to assess the potential dangers and secure shelter somewhere in the ruined village. If Jillian was well tomorrow morning they could race for the shores of Dalkeith. To avoid leading the McKane to the Douglas estate, he planned to stop in a nearby village and send a messenger for Hawk. They would meet discreetly to discuss the possibility of raising an army and plan Jillian’s and his future.
As the tall standing stones of Wotan’s Cleft came into view, Grimm’s chest tightened painfully. He forced himself to take deep, even breaths as they navigated the rocky path. He hadn’t anticipated the force with which his bitter memories would resurface. He’d last climbed this path fifteen years ago and it had forever changed his life. Hear me, Odin! I summon the Berserker … He’d ascended a boy and descended a monster.