“Reid?”
It was like cold water had been poured into Reid’s face. He’d not seen his old mentor in years, not since he’d walked out of Dun Calas and never looked back. He looked older, with a dusting of gray in his black hair and beard, but Reid would recognize that weathered face anywhere. Captain of the Dun Calas garrison, this man had trained Reid and his brother when they were boys—or at least tried to. His brother had been the studious one, always on time to training, lapping up everything that Edgar could teach them. Back then Reid had been a little more...reluctant. Secure in the knowledge of his birthright, he had disdained weapons training, confident that he would one day order others to do his fighting for him.
What a fool he’d been. What a young, arrogant fool.
For a second, the two of them stared at each other, not quite believing the other was real. What was Edgar doing here? Why was he so far from Dun Calas? Then the answer hit Reid. He was bringing word to the Muir garrison at Kalmack Castle.
Reid’s heart hardened. Aye, this man might once have been his mentor, but that was long ago. Much had changed since then.
“Whitefoot! Bo!” Reid shouted.
The two hounds came shooting over. They cannoned into Edgar, sending the older man crashing onto his back with a strangled cry of outrage. Each hound took hold of an arm in their powerful jaws, stopping Edgar reaching any of his weapons. Edgar struggled but was unable to break free.
Reid climbed slowly to his feet. The woman was standing a few paces away, watching with wide, horror-filled eyes.
He approached his old mentor, drew his dagger, and stood over the older man. Edgar glared up at him.
“I heard the rumors,” he snarled, his voice throbbing with rage. “I heard the rumors ye’d joined Campbell but I didnae believe them. Dear God, Reid, what are ye doing? How have ye fallen so low?”
Edgar’s words sliced into Reid’s skin like knives, bringing a pain that he thought he’d long since banished. “Spare me yer platitudes, old man,” he snapped. “We all do what we must.”
“Aye, we do,” Edgar agreed. “But this?”
“Shut yer mouth!” He took a step closer, his fingers gripping the hilt of the dagger so hard his knuckles went white. Fate was smiling on him today. Not only had he rescued his men from Kalmack Castle with minimal loss of life, he also had a chance to deal a devastating blow to Clan Muir. How would they deal with the loss of one of their most able commanders?
Edgar saw his fate written in Reid’s face. His expression went calm although his eyes still flashed with fury. “Is that what we’ve come to then, boy? So be it. Go on then, do it! The question is: do ye have the balls to finish me yerself or will ye have yer hell-hounds rip my throat out?”
“Ye talk too much, old man,” Reid snapped. “Ye always did like the sound of yer own voice.” He knelt by Edgar, hefted his dagger in a swinging arc—and sliced straight through Edgar’s weapons belt. He pulled the belt away, depriving Edgar of his sword and dagger, and slung it over his shoulder before climbing back to his feet.
“Go home, Edgar,” Reid said. “And take a message with ye. Campbell will destroy Clan Muir if ye dinna agree to their terms.”
“Ye know we will never do that.”
Reid shrugged. “So be it. The dogs will release ye when I’m far enough away that ye canna follow.”
Without another word, he turned and began walking away. He grabbed the woman’s wrist and yanked her along with him. She looked too stunned to argue although she turned her head to look back at the man pinned to the ground and her eyes kept flicking to the weapons belt slung over Reid’s shoulder.
Reid did not look back. He led them east across the soft, springy ground covered in tussocky grass, and back towards the cover of the woods. Only when they were a decent distance away did he pause, put his fingers to his lips, and whistle.
A few minutes later he heard the thump of paws and Bo and Whitefoot burst upon them, gamboling around Reid as if inordinately pleased with themselves.
Reid only wished he could share their excitement. Something gnawed in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he couldn’t quite place. He should have killed Edgar Muir. Any commander worth their salt wouldn’t have hesitated to despatch such a powerful enemy. So why had he let him go?
He didn’t like where that question might lead.
It doesnae matter, he told himself.I will do what is needed when the time comes.
They reached the cover of the trees and Reid allowed himself to relax—a little. It was a mistake. The second he did, the woman took the opportunity to rip her arm out of his grip and kick him in the shins with all her strength. Then she took off, running into the trees.
Reid cursed, hopped about with his teeth bared in pain, and then whistled to the dogs. They shot after the woman, two black streaks in the gloom beneath the trees.
Reid followed. He found the woman sprawled on the ground. The dogs had brought her down as commanded but weren’t pinning her. Instead, they were seated either side, tails sweeping the ground, tongues lolling out of their mouths. The woman looked too terrified to move.
He called them off and the woman sprang to her feet like a startled rabbit looking for a place to flee.
“Thank ye for that,” Reid growled, rubbing his shin. “Please dinna try that again. Next time the dogs might not be so gentle.”
She fixed fear-filled eyes on him. “You’re crazy,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “You’re all crazy.” She swallowed thickly, looking Reid up and down. “Who are you people?”
