Intently.
He needed to learn the MacLeod’s fighting preferences. What threw him off. The weaknesses he tried to hide.
All of those would prove to be beneficial when it was his time to cut the warrior down.
He wasn’t worried about the Hart wench. Her little dagger didn’t frighten him. However, the MacLeod kenned how to fight. He had spent his whole life in preparation. Training. Honing his skills.
Anger filled him at the thought. His own father had never taken the time to ensure he got his training. Nay, instead his father tried to pass him off to the maids.
“I have nay use for a crippled imbecile,” he would tell them, never looking him in the eye. Barely acknowledging him. The only time his father paid him any attention was to speak about how much of a disappointment he was.
He sniffed and swiped at his eyes. He hated how his father madehim feel. Even now, when he’d been dead for years.
The vice-like grip he held on him was suffocating. Stealing all breath from his lungs.
With no need to watch the window any longer, he went to his bag and pulled out his plaid, wrapping it around his shoulders. It would be preferable to sleep near a fire this night, but he couldn’t risk anyone seeing the flame.
Moving into the woods, he found shelter under a low hanging pine and settled onto a bed of needles for the night.
He would be ready to move tomorrow when they emerged. Until then, he would get a few hours of rest.
“See, father,” he said, eyes looking up to the starry night sky. “I can do this. Ye couldnae, but I will succeed where ye failed. Take my word for it.”
Chapter Ten
Moira lay inbed, her head ducked low so that she was buried under the throws. Was what Errol had said true? He was fierce and sorrowful at the same time while he had told her what had happened to his brother. She couldn’t see her clan acting in such a manner without just cause.
But somebody had.
Ten and seven. The same age as her youngest sister, Morven.
So young to suffer such a fate.
Errol had loved his brother very much. She could see it shining in the hurt of his eyes as he relayed the story. He’d spared her the details, but she could only imagine how horrific it had been. Her clan had suffered losses as well. But unlike Errol, her family was whole. She couldn’t imagine the pain of losing one of her siblings. Aye, they annoyed her nearly every day, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Her life would be empty without one of them in it, poking into her business. Teasing her for always being locked away in the annals room. Her older brothers tugging on her hair as they walked by.
Of course, she had kenned from Anna that their brother had died, but never once had she told Moira how, so she had always assumed it was a tragic accident.
She wondered if Anna kenned how Gavin had really died? Or if that was another secret to be kept from her because she was a female.
For a few long moments, Moira watched Errol’s silhouette, outlined by the light of the fire. His shoulders were slumped forward, and his chin dipped down. More than likely he was caught up in painful memories that he’d rather soon forget. But she saw his vulnerability.
Errol MacLeod loved those around him deeply. She was unsure what the morrow would bring. How they would get along and she wanted to kick herself for stirring up all the hurtful memories. She had thought the question was innocent enough. Something to get them talking.
How wrong she had been.
With a sigh, she turned to face the wall, her back to Errol, feeling ashamed of what she’d done—even if it was unintentional. She could only hope in the morning he would still be willing to escort her on this adventure.
But she would also understand if he refused and demanded they return home.
After all, how could they get around his thought that her family had killed a member of his? She didn’t think they could.
When Moira woke the next morning the chair where Errol had moved to was empty. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and scanned the interior of the bothy. The fire burned low from lack of attention and a shiver vibrated through her body at the chill in the air.
Errol was nowhere to be found. Her heart picked up speed. Had he abandoned her? Nay, he wouldn’t have.
Would he? Mayhap. She had clearly upset him the night afore.
Insecurity turned her stomach as she thought about being alone here. Far from Hartsmoor. Deep in MacLeod lands and with people out there kenning that she and Errol were searching for some sort of treasure. It would not bode well for her. What would she do if bandits attacked like they had the day afore? She only had her dagger for protection.
