Page 64 of Fire in his Highland Heart

“Ye won’t lose me. Not on my watch. Which...speaking of, ye should get some rest. ‘Tis my watch now.”

“I love you,” he mouthed as James stirred again.

She smiled and blew him a kiss across the fire. He grinned, the biggest, silliest grin she’d ever seen on such an imposing man, and he cocooned himself in his sleeping roll.

Arguen looked up at the night sky through the trees. The stars were still bright, and the moon was a half, which had been wonderful for their travels. It was hard to hold a lantern and ride; she was ever so thankful for the light of the moon. Even though she knew it was just an astrological body, she felt as if it were on her side.

Tomorrow would prove to be a difficult day when they reached Bruckstone again. When it was James’s turn to take watch, she was grateful to roll up in her blanket and try to rest. She knew she would need it.

* * *

Bruckstone was not quite as Arguen remembered it. To her, it had always been a bit gloomy, simply because of her station and looks, and not having many friends growing up, but this was a different energy entirely. She kept her cap on and pulled her hood around her face, fearing recognition. The villagers all looked tired, more so than usual, and quiet. Even on chilly autumn days like this one, people would still be generally amicable and greet one another cheerily in the street. Now, it looked as if everyone huddled in their own little group, and their party riding through was regarded with suspicious looks. Arguen was glad she kept her hood up and pulled forward; she wondered what these angry, exhausted-looking villagers would do with a woman who was accused of witchcraft and had escaped.

Finally, they reached the iron gates of the keep. A couple sentries stood guard outside, looking far more menacing and serious about their jobs than Arguen ever remembered.

“What be yer purpose here?” one of them asked.

Blake straightened up, squared his shoulders, and used a commanding voice with which she was only vaguely familiar.

“I’m Blake Mawr, Laird of Ernmore Castle. I have business with Malcolm Morgan, son of the laird.”

The sentry tsked. “Ye dinnae ken? Malcolm is laird now. His father passed none too long ago.”

It took all of Arguen’s strength not to gasp or exclaim aloud. Old Laird Morgan had been a fixture of her childhood and adolescence. He was neither good nor bad, never treating her with an abundance of either kindness of cruelty, but he had always been there. She could only imagine how Malcolm felt.

“Och, this is news tae me. My condolences tae the family and the castle. In that case, I have urgent business with the laird.”

“Is he expectin’ ye?” asked the sentry.

“No. My companions an’ I rode for three days straight tae get here. I must see him,” Blake insisted, in a way that conveyed authority without sounding like he was begging.

The sentry peered closer at Blake before glancing at his companions. Arguen was ever so grateful for her hood. She wasn’t sure if the sentry recognized her. If he did, he said nothing, calling to the other sentry to alert the laird of their presence.

The four of them waited in silence for what felt like several minutes, until they were given word that the new laird would receive them. Up went the gate, creaking in its old age, and they passed through the castle wall without any trouble.

In the middle of the yard, with all the smithies, posts, and troughs for the horses, stood Douglas, ready to take them in. Arguen wanted to cry with joy at seeing the only remaining family she had, but she did not want to blow her cover.

It seemed Douglas had the same idea. He was the one who had helped her escape, after all. He did seem surprised to see her, as well as everyone else, but he maintained a cool and collected air.

“Och, Blake, ‘tis been far too long!” he said joyfully. The two men embraced in greeting. “And James, long time, no see, aye?” Douglas quipped.

“Aye, indeed. Feels good tae have the three of us together again.”

Douglas looked beyond James and Blake at Arguen. She desperately wanted to hug him and tell him everything that had happened, but it would have to wait. “Here, we can shelter yer horses. Come inside. I’m sure ye an’ yer companions could stand tae warm yerselves by a fire,” he continued, in a voice that to anyone else listening would have sounded confident and welcoming, but the three of them caught that warning undertone in his voice. Arguen had to play like she was cold and stick to the shadows, keeping her hood on to minimize the chances of being recognized. Being smuggled back into her home was very odd indeed.

Once they were inside, Douglas ushered them to Malcolm’s study. Every time they passed another person in the stone corridor, she was careful to look away or angle herself so that she was not recognized. She knew most of Bruckstone quite well, but the study was the one place she’d not allowed herself to go. That had been Laird Morgan’s space, and as children, she, Douglas, and Malcolm were not allowed to play in there. They had free reign of the rest of the castle and the grounds, but that one room was off limits to them. It was odd now, that seeing it would take place in these odd circumstances.

It was not very like Blake’s study at all. Where Blake’s had updated furniture, a sizable hearth with comfortable chairs in front of it, and a desk littered with parchment and pens, Malcolm’s looked as if it were stuck in another era. The high, arched ceiling made a rather small room feel large, for which Arguen was grateful, as the wall held hunting trophies—taxidermized animals in different poses, with their dead glass eyes looking down at them. The furniture might have been from a hundred years ago, and she could tell the place needed a good cleaning. Dust coated everything in a fine layer. She wondered if Malcolm had the heart to clean it up, seeing as this space was all his father, untouched and unchanged.

Malcolm himself, unlike the dusty old study, looked very much changed, but not for the better. Instead of looking lordly and commanding, he looked tired, thinner, even more of a shell of himself than when she’d left. Clearly, his father’s death, and his own subsequent running of the castle and its subjects, had wrung him like a wet rag.

His hazel eyes lit up when he saw his old friends, however, and immediately Arguen was a little relieved. He opened his mouth to greet them, but Douglas shushed them first.

“Ye cannae make their presence kent tae all,” he warned. “Arguen is back. We need tae keep her safe, but James an’ Blake have news for ye.”

Malcolm gulped nervously, and for a moment, it even looked as if there were unshed tears in his eyes. But he shook his head and straightened up best he could, and stood up from his chair.

“Blake, James, ‘tis been far too long. I’m...glad tae see ye’re well. And... Arguen,” he said, his voice sounding a bit softer as he looked past the three men at her. The tender moment was not missed by Blake, who frowned.