Page 2 of Highland Storm

“As soon as I find one that’s right for me, I’ll get one,” snapped Caleb. “Now stop tellin’ me what to do.”

“Whatever ye say,” Logan said with a smirk, preparing to leave. Hawke stopped him and Ethan.

“Nay,” he said, holding his hand in the air. “Let the MacNab go.”

“Blethers, Hawke, what’s the matter with ye?” spat Ethan, turning his horse back to look at Hawke straight on.

“They’re our enemies,” Logan reminded him with a clenched jaw, always ready for a fight.

“And that’s exactly why we’re goin’ to let that one go,” explained Hawke, looking up to see Apollo circling in the sky above his head, keeping an eye on the MacNab. “We are goin’ to let him get word back to the bluidy MacNabs that the MacKeefes canna be defeated. Mayhap then, they’ll stop tryin’.”

“I think you’d take them all on by yerself if ye could, Hawke,” said Caleb.

“I did it to save my neck, no’ because I wanted to,” grumbled Hawke.

“If ye would have waited for us, mayhap we could have taken them as prisoners,” remarked Ethan. “Either way, this canna end well.”

“Aye,” agreed Logan, looking at the dead bodies all around them. “This is goin’ to start a battle for sure.”

“Och, ye three are simpkins,” spat Hawke. “I told ye, I did it in self-defense. Ye werena here and I didna have a choice. And the reason I let the last man go is to prove we dinna hunt down MacNabs just to kill them. We only do it to protect ourselves from havin’ our throats slit.”

“I hope the MacNabs will see it that way,” said Caleb.

“I hope our laird sees it that way,” added Ethan, talking about Hawke’s father. Both Hawke’s father, Storm, and his grandfather, Ian, were chieftains of the clan. This worked out well since the MacKeefes held land in the Highlands and also claimed the Lowland Hermitage Castle on the border as their own.

“Let’s get back to the castle since it’s gettin’ dark,” said Hawke, mounting his steed. “I dinna want my horse to twist its leg.” They were in the Lowlands now, and the MacNabs were a Lowland clan. However, that never stopped them from attacking in the Highlands as well.

“Shouldna we go through their pockets first?” asked Caleb, once having been a thief in his younger years and still having the urge to steal in his blood. He moved with stealth and had the polished skill of sleight of hand that was admirable even to an honest man. If there was ever a need for someone to sneak in and out of the shadows without being caught, Caleb was the man.

“Nay. Leave them,” commanded Hawke. “We dinna want anythin’ from a stinkin’ MacNab.”

“I agree, it is bad luck,” said Ethan, being very superstitious. “We dinna want to tempt the fates and bring a curse upon our heads.”

“I still say we should –” started Caleb, looking down to a dead MacNab, poking at the man with his toe.

“Nay!” said Hawke and Ethan together. Logan just shrugged his shoulders and looked the other way.

“I’ll never understand ye,” grumbled Caleb under his breath, climbing atop his horse.

The men quickly headed back to Hermitage Castle with their game swinging from ropes at the sides of their horses. Hermitage Castle was seized by the MacKeefes years ago, led by Hawke’s father, Storm. But the MacKeefes weren’t a Lowland clan, and divided their time between the Lowlands and the Highlands. However, their presence this close to the border was always a risk. If it wasn’t the English looking for trouble, it was another clan who wanted to claim the castle as their own.

Hawke wasn’t a man who gave up. He could have easily killed the last MacNab, but he wanted the message to get back to them that they couldn’t win. He wasn’t even sure why the MacNabs were this far south since their stronghold, Crookston Castle, was up near Glasgow. Riding back to Hermitage Castle, Hawke had a bad feeling in his gut that the situation with the MacNabs was only going to get worse.

Chapter 2

When the men rode through the gates of Hermitage Castle, Hawke was surprised to see so many people heading into the great hall. It was already nightfall. Usually by now, the servants were settling in to sleep by the fire and the men of the clan were drinking or playing dice.

“I wonder what all the commotion is about,” said Ethan, stretching his neck, trying to see in the torchlight.

“It looks like mayhap we have visitors,” answered Hawke, eyeing a horse and cart by the stable that he’d never seen before. “Caleb, go find out and meet us in the great hall with some ales. I’m parched.”

“Aye, I will,” said Caleb, hurrying away while the rest of the men handed over their horses.

“Have the game warden take our catches from the hunt to the steward,” he told the stablemaster.

“Aye, Laird Hawke,” said the man, using the courtesy title Hawke gained from being the laird’s son. Too damned bad his older brother would most likely be next in line as laird once their grandfather or father passed away. Renard already had sons of his own, and Hawke had nothing.

Hawke looked up as Apollo descended from a darkened sky to land on his outstretched leather-clad arm. The falconer ran out to join him.