Page 2 of Highlander’s Vengeful Seduction

As he approached Castle Sween, he felt as though he was a young lad again, back when he had first seen the place. Donal ran a hand through his hair, pushing his ginger mop back to take a better look at all the stones that lined its walls.

He remembered carving his name on one of them, next to Ronald’s own, the two of them leaving their marks there forever.

Donal patted his pocket as he rode through the castle gates, a habit that he had developed ever since beginning to carry that handkerchief and the letter with him at all times. He liked to remind himself every now and then that they were still there, safe in his pocket.

Naturally, Donal attracted the gazes of the clansmen the moment he rode into the castle grounds. He wondered how many of them remembered him, but if he were to judge by the strange mixture of joy and sympathy on their faces, he would say that he was still in everyone’s recollections.

He had no desire to listen to people’s condolences. He had already heard his fair share of them, and it did nothing to console him or bring his brother back. He had begun to avoid people’s pity whenever he could. Instead of lingering in the courtyard, he left his horse with the stable boy and headed inside the castle to find the man who had shaped him into the man that he was then.

He had barely taken a few steps, his shoes making that familiar click-clack on the stones, when he collided with another body, his bigger frame sending the other person tumbling onto the floor.

“Lord!” Donal exclaimed, rushing to help the girl that he had pushed down. “Are ye alright, lass?”

“Donal?”

The girl looked up at him, and at that moment, Donal realized who she was, just as she took his hand and used it to stand up.

“Vika?”

It couldn’t have been anyone else. Vika had hair like the sunshine and eyes like the deepest loch. Though she had changed a lot since the last time Donal had seen her, having been only a bairn back then, he immediately recognized her because of those very features.

Vika had grown into a fine young woman, though the flush on her cheeks and the childish grin on her face made her look like that child Donal had met six years ago.

Wherever Vanora went, Vika was always close behind, so Donal was not surprised when Vanora appeared from around the corner, alarmed by the sound of a body hitting the ground.

The two sisters couldn’t be less alike. Vanora took after their father, with her dark hair and brown eyes like two pools of amber, and Vika took after their mother. Had Donal not known that they shared the same parents, he would have never guessed that the two women were sisters.

“Donal!” Vanora said, rushing to him once she recognized him. “What are ye doing here? When did ye arrive?”

She was truly a sight, a few strands of her hair falling on her pale neck, her dress showing off her best assets.

So much unlike her sister, who preferred layers and drawing as little attention to her own fine figure as possible.

“We didnae ken that ye’d come!” Vika said. “Have ye told Father? He never told us!”

“I didnae tell him. And I only just arrived.” Donal smiled at the enthusiasm that the sisters were showing before he could stop himself. It was easy to fall back into old habits, being friendly with them and allowing himself to be charmed by them, but he had to remember that one of them was the reason his brother was dead.

He didn’t blame both sisters, of course. Until he knew which one had killed him, though, he would have to be careful with both of them.

They were women now. They were not the little children he’d once known, and it wasn’t only their looks that had changed. Vanora carried herself differently, confidence exuding from her, while Vika had opened up, so unlike the shy girl she once was.

“I barely recognized the twa of ye,” Donal continued. “Ye have changed so much.”

“Aye, so have ye,” Vika pointed out. “Ye didnae have that scar when ye were here.”

Vika reached over and poked Donal on the cheek, where he had a small scar from the time he’d gotten in a brawl. It was such a small detail that he was surprised Vika had noticed.

Vanora was frowning, though, head tilted to the side as she looked at Donal.

“And why did ye not tell Father?” Vanora asked. “He’d want tae ken that yer here.”

“Aye,” Donal said. “I wanted it tae be a surprise. I thought I’d go tae his study and see if he’ll remember his old student.”

“He will!” Vika assured him. “Father still talks about ye often, ye ken. I think he misses ye…he misses having a son.”

Donal had never considered that Cormag MacMillan could think of him as a son, and he felt a strange warmth radiate inside him when he heard Vika refer to him as such. It was unfair to the two sisters—that much Donal knew—but it also felt good to be appreciated and loved.

Besides, one of them was a murderer. He had no reason to feel bad for them.