Soon there was almost as much din as there had been during the fight as various villagers chimed in to point out how one or the other of the lady healers had helped their ills.
“Yes, yes,” Arran interrupted. “The ladies are miracle workers. Do ye ken if either of them have seen a red-haired lassie of surpassin’ beauty travelin’ with an old beldame with a bad scar on her forehead?”
The villagers looked at one another. “Nay, and I couldnae say,” one lady spoke up.
“Guess ye could ask after Mrs. Smith’s bairns are safe delivered into this world,” said another. “Ava’s a miracle worker with those difficult births. And she’s trainin’ Sorcha to be just as good.”
Arran only had one more question. “And when did Sorcha and her maither arrive here?”
The two men who’d first answered his questions looked at each other, and then the man named John answered, “About two years now. Aye, that’s right. She helped me wife birth me youngest, and she’d just arrived here about that time. Me wee laddie is just two now, so that’s right, it is.”
Arran couldn’t be completely sure, but he smiled for the first time in weeks. The timing was right. Brown hair was a good way to cover up red. But tall, willowy Ava was definitely not the scarred mother. Could the woman be ill? Or maybe she didn’t exist at all, and Sorcha was merely protecting her reputation.
Still, it was the best lead he’d had in weeks. And it would give him an excuse to speak to the beautiful young woman again. Even if she was not his quarry, that alone was reason enough to question her after Mrs. Smith’s infants made their appearance in the world.
“Does the inn rent out rooms?” he asked.
CHAPTER TWO
Skye looked back at the crowd still gathered in the village and saw the man, this Laird MacArthur, talking to Willis and John.
“Go to yer home,” Ava hissed. “I’ll go to Mrs. Smith. I like it nae that this laird has turned up in our village where he has never come before.”
Skye didn’t like it either. She walked as naturally as she could until she was out of sight, and then she ran until the village was far behind her. Once she’d entered the cool shade of the forest, the pain in her side forced her to stop and lean against a tree to catch her breath. A wave of nausea washed over her.
Curse ye, Grayson Blackwell! Why can ye nae leave us alone?
Skye dreaded telling her mother that they must leave Braewall immediately. Helena, like Skye, had grown to love their new home. The night they’d crawled out of that long-forgottentunnel, they stepped out into the blackness of the night. The wind howled, thunder rolled in the distance, and they each took in a deep breath. It was a breath of relief and hope.
But Blackwell’s men had hurried them from place to place. Until one dark night, they’d met with Ava, the healing woman. Ava had led them to an abandoned cottage on the outskirts of Braewell. And Braewall was all they’d hoped for on that dark night.
Skye reached the cottage and threw the door open. Her mother sat in a rocking chair by the fire, her head bent down as she carefully embroidered a flower onto a handkerchief. She jumped up when Skye rushed in.
“Ye scared the life out of me, child! Goodness, what is the matter?”
“Pack yer things, take only what ye can carry. We have to leave now,” Skye commanded as she grabbed a bag and stuffed clothing into it.
Helena froze, her mouth hanging open in shock.
“Maither! We need to leave now. Blackwell has sent another hired brute after us. He’s in the village now.” Skye grabbed another smaller sack and shoved some bread and cheese into it. “And he’s nae like any of the others.”
Her thoughts drifted back to the huge Highlander that addressed the crowd in town. She could not deny that when his black eyes locked onto hers, her stomach quivered—and not in a bad way. But that didn’t matter. This man threatened to destroy all they had worked so hard to build.
Helena collapsed back into her chair, tears silently flowing down her face. Skye knelt down before her. In her mother’s eyes, she saw fear, and anger welled up inside her.
They’d done this so many times before. Whenever Grayson Blackwell seemed to be getting close, they ran. But it was harder this time.
Braewall had been their home for nearly two years. Their cottage only had two rooms, but it was comfortable, and it washome. They’d lived here unbothered, and they had dared to be happy.
It’s nae fair!
“I would have thought the blaggard would have given up by now. Why does he continue this pointless pursuit? He doesnae want me. He doesnae need me! He could remarry. He could do anythin’ he wants,” her mother wailed. Her hand moved slowly up to the scar on her forehead, a tangible reminder of that last beating she had received in Castle MacKeith, but still, she did not move from her chair.
“Nay one can ever ken what goes through that evil mind. Ye’ll go mad tryin’ to figure it out. But, Maither, ye cannae go back. It willnae be any better—I doubt Blackwell has changed.”
Skye grabbed her mother’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I willnae let him have ye again, but I cannae protect ye unless we go. This man, the man who asked about us, is strong, and he is determined. He had the whole town tremblin’ and answerin’ his questions.”
“Blackwell has sent others, and we’ve always been able to outwit them. How is this man different?” Helena argued.
