Murdoch stared at him. “You still have Blair blood in your veins. And everyone knows Blairs canna be trusted.”
Lachlan shoved Murdoch away from the door and stepped toward him, daring him to retaliate. He wanted to plant his fists in the man’s red-bearded face. He wanted to take his rage, his pain, out on Murdoch Carson. How dare he speak such insults against the people who had raised him? Against the people who had—
The people who had turned on him. The people who had exiled him. The people who had forgotten him.
Murdoch only stood with his hands resting at his sides and met Lachlan’s gaze. “What are you goin’ to do, Blair?”
Lachlan wrenched open the door and left it swinging as he exited the little cottage. He stormed up the street into the darkness, his gaze fixed on the bonfire that was still being kept before the old cliff house. The old cliff house where the Carson had lived.
Where his great-grandfather, the Carson chief, had lived.
Lachlan stopped in the street, his breath heaving in and out. He turned in a circle, looking at the quiet, peaceful town. The wood, the falls, the old house, the sea; they all seemed to be whispering his name, vying for his attention, his affection, his loyalty. He didn’t know which way to turn.
Even though he now knew from where he had come, Lachlan Blair had no idea who he was, or where he belonged.
* * * *
“Shh, get down,” Finley hissed, and yanked on Kirsten’s arm, pulling her into the black shadows of the underbrush. Her legs were trembling and heavy from the slow, steep climb through the wood in the dark, and the thick wool of her gown was scratchy and damp with sweat. Kirsten had led them directly to Town Blair as a hound on a scent, but if Finley hadn’t stopped her, she swore the idiot would have walked straight into their midst without pause.
The pair of men passed less than ten feet from them, but didn’t so much as glance in their direction as they carried on with their low conversation. Finley at last let out her breath.
“That was close,” Kirsten said with a giggle. Then she rose. “All right, let’s go.”
Finley reached up with a roll of her eyes and pulled Kirsten back down into the brush so the blonde gave a little yelp.
“Where do you think you’re going to, Kirsten Carson?”
“Sure, to the green. We aren’t bound to hear or see anything, hiding here behind the trees like ninnies.”
Finley laughed despite herself. “We can’t simply go marching into town.”
“Really?” Kirsten asked, holding Finley’s gaze intently. “Let’s hear your plan, then, if mine is so terrible.”
“That wasn’t a plan,” Finley muttered, putting off answering immediately. She blew her hair out of her eyes and peered toward the backs of the houses nearest the wood.
Lachlan was right; most of the town must still be about the festivities, for the air beyond the sloping roofs seemed to glow like an iridescent mushroom cap over the green. And although the town appeared brightly lit, and indeed there were faint strains of music floating on the breeze fragrant with delicious smells, there was no hushed roar of a gathering. No whooping or shouts of gamers and dancers; no bawdy songs.
It seemed odd to Finley that so large and prosperous a town should have such a solemn feast to welcome the summer when poor Carson Town had been redolent with music and laughter all the day.
Very odd.
“All right,” Finley said at last. “Let’s move a little closer, then. Only to the nearest house, though.”
“Och, you mean we’re to march into town,closer to the green?” Kirsten taunted. “I’d never have thought that up on me own.”
“Shut up, Kirsten.”
“Good thing I brought you along, Fin. Master of strategy, you are.”
Finley growled a bit, but let her friend have her say. She was right, after all.
“Don’t run, and don’t crouch,” she instructed. “That would only draw attention. We’ll walk purposefully, arm in arm. If anyone happens to see us coming from the wood as if we belong to the town, they won’t raise the alarm.”
“Who made you the leader?”
“You did, when you asked me to come,” Finley said. Then she looped her arm through Kirsten’s and stood and, after taking a deep breath, the pair of Carson women stepped into Town Blair proper.
They were strolling across the short expanse between the wood and the house when they saw the same two men who had passed moments before returning in their direction.
