Page 57 of A Dangerous Highland Affair

Getting away from Neacal proved harder than she had thought it could be. Even after seeing that poster –still scrunched in the center of her palm—it was impossible to believe it was true.

Unfurling the torn scrap, Teasag squinted against the failing light, to try and make out the lettering.

The drawing on the sheet was crude—even she could have done better—but the likeness was clear enough alright.

It was Neacal, and if she was in any doubt, below, his name was spelled out in large letters.

Although the light was fading, there was just enough sullen pink sun to just pick out the words wanted and for murder.

Her heart giving another jolt, Teasag pushed the parchment into her knapsack and tried to push her racing thoughts to the back of her mind.

She had so many questions. Even before this latest development, she had harbored a growing suspicion that all was not well.

The women at the roadside of Blackness were one thing, but her arrival in the village in the woods had cemented it. As the meal had worn on, it had been impossible to ignore her own eyes.

The suspicion of outsiders, the ostentatious displays of wealth, coupled with the secretive nature of the concealed village in the first place.

Yet tearing herself away from his eyes had been unexpectedly harder than she had imagined.

The wounded, almost puppy-like sheen to his eyes had been like glue, pulling her back in and forcing her to look.

“Teasag. It’s nae true,” he had insisted, over and again, as she pulled away and retreated back into herself.

She knew she could not afford to let his lies wash over her or find some way of getting into the comfort zone, where the sound of his voice just overwhelmed her.

Instead, she had tossed her head back and commenced riding, the wind acting as an antidote to the storm raging within her.

Teasag did not know how long she rode for, only that she clung on tight and did not look up until she finally found the edge of town.

It was much quicker than she had expected, and as she rode, Teasag had time for the events of the last few days to unfold in her mind.

And the conclusion she came to was not a pleasant one. No matter how she looked at it, it was a cut and dried case. Neacal was as guilty as could be, and there were no mitigating factors.

Trying to ignore her aching heart, Teasag rode on, determined to make it back home before the morning light.

Finally, she reached the outskirts of town and could see the imposing structure of Blackness Castle on the horizon.

Cold nausea rose within Teasag’s stomach. Resolutely, she fought it, trying her hardest to keep her wits about her as she continued her journey through the town she had quit eleven years ago.

Now she was passing the once familiar sights, set out in a whirring line, as she cantered by on the nut-brown horse. Both of them were wearied from their long ride, and as she approached the town’s main tavern, Teasag held her fears in check.

There was just enough light to see by, but not enough for her to draw attention to herself, as a lone female rider journeying through the night.

The silvery whitewash of the moon cast against the town’s principal buildings; the castle, the keep, the great hall, the church, the bawdy tavern, which spewed out revelers onto the streets at all hours.

As she watched, as strange prickly feeling ran through Teasag.

An emotion coursed through her veins, so complicated, she couldn’t even put a name to it - confusion, shame, guilt, belonging, homesickness. It all combined into one swirling mass of aching within her limbs and legs.

Holding on tighter, she approached the livery to the main town’s hall and rounded the bend to the little row of houses where Lorcal lived.

Creeping down the dirty cobbles to the rotten row, a pang shot through Teasag.

She could just picture her mother here, on this very street, standing on her doorstep, her redoubtable features smiling as she waved her goodbye on the trip out to the McCallum keep.

That was a lifetime ago, and yet Teasag had nothing to show for it. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, there was this fresh outrage in her heart.

The last forty-eight hours had burned with an intensity that Teasag could only have guessed at in her previous life. Nothing she had experienced before had prepared her for the feelings that Neacal had unleashed within her.