Page 77 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

Frustrated from the corner, Fingal watched them before slowly slinking away. His chest constricted. He needed air. The pressure building in his head hammered until he felt sick.

“Wait, MacLean,” called Fingal the moment he was out of earshot from the hall. He didn’t want Rory to know his part in this. At least, not yet.

He followed MacLean through the corridors until they were outside the Macaulay keep. Only out in the open did MacLean deign to look at him.

His heart beating quickly, Fingal called to him. “MacLean,” he pleaded. “Ye nae told him… our plan!”

MacLean stopped dead, irritation spreading across his purple face.

“Plan?” he asked, uncomprehending.

They were all watching. Fingal felt himself heat up, sweat prickling his neck, and a sick feeling sliding down his throat. But the thought of his uncle in there, with Niven, spurred him on. He had come this far now.

“Our plan…for the clan… to marry me to Deva,” he said, hopefully.

Between them, the other lairds shared a glance. MacLean looked at him as if he were mad. Then he smiled.

“Hm,” said MacLean thoughtfully. “We’ll see…” A dark cloud scurried overhead, laden with more snow. MacLean cast a worried eye over it and mounted his horse to go.

“Dinnae ye fash about that,” laughed MacLean. He seemed to have shaken some of his earlier surliness, although not all. “It’ll come in good time, ye’ll see…!”

“R-right,” said Fingal, wanting desperately to know what was going on. But he didn’t really dare to ask. “I suppose ye’ll let me ken, when…?”

Fingal left the question hang in the air as the MacLean laird pushed past him. The dismissive swagger set Fingal’s jaw on edge, but he was too tense to react.

“Och, aye, I’ll let ye ken,” said MacLean, his dark eyes glimmering. He nodded to one of his associates and then mounted his horse.

Fingal watched painfully as MacLean and the others prepared to leave. Inside, he was aching to push the matter further, but something told him to leave it for now.

MacLean was not the sort of man to annoy.

Instinctively, Fingal edged away. He was so close, he could taste it. But he needed to bide his time.

“Well, are ye coming wi’ us lad, yay or nae?” said MacLean, his dark eyes sparkling.

Fingal’s chest constricted. There was only one answer with a man like MacLean.

But could he give it?

“Uncle!” Niven charged out after Rory, as fast as his legs could carry him.

But his uncle was a long way ahead.

“Uncle, please,” cried Niven. It seemed to take forever to get out of that room. Truly, they had been trapped, like flies in a web.

The thought of those ghouls staring as Deva was humiliated burned his head. How had he allowed this to happen? How could he be so weak?

Now Rory knew everything, and in the worst way possible.

“Uncle, I was going to tell ye,” began Niven. His own voice rang in front of him, sounding odd. And he really had meant to. Just not like this.

For the first time, Rory turned around. “Really?”

Incredulously, he exited the castle, with Niven following behind. Then, he stood, outside the entrance, as Niven checked for onlookers. It was quiet, for now.

Inside, his mind scrambled madly with all the emotions of the moment. But Rory’s face had glazed over. Niven watched him anxiously. He had absolutely no idea what he was thinking.

Clearing his throat nervously, Niven nodded.