Highlander of My Heart (Mcardle Sisters of Courage 1)

“That will not happen, Snow,” Sorrell said. “James feels you will be safe and protected here in your home. You need not worry about such a fate.”

“I make it easy for James, since no one would want a blind wife,” Snow said, “and for that I’m relieved. But I must know one thing, Sorrell.”

“What is that?”

“Where do you get the courage to do the things you do?” Snow asked, her head turned to her sister as if she could see her clearly.

“It’s not about courage. It’s about surviving. Remember how relieved and pleased Mum was that we all survived the fire and how she told us to survive no matter what or we’d never have a chance to have a good life she knew we were all destined to have.”

“That’s right, she did say that,” Willow said, recalling the memory.

“So, we’ll survive and someway, somehow, destiny will find us,” Sorrell said and squeezed both sisters’ hands.

“Please. Please. I won’t say a word. I will tell no one who you are, my—”

John’s fist pounded into the man’s face and he heard a crack. Blood ran from his now crooked nose.

“It is what you intended to do to the woman that got you a beating. Though, I would advise you not tell a soul who or where I am or I will hunt you down as I did today and kill you.”

The man turned frightened eyes on John and he spit out the blood that had run into his mouth from his nose. “I will tell no one. You have my word. No one, but it makes little difference since your father rescinded the reward for any knowledge as to your whereabouts or for you to be returned to him, alive or dead, about a month ago.”

John didn’t know if he should trust that bit of information, even though Erland had told him the same thing. “So you missed your chance to gain a hefty sum, Daggit.”

Daggit looked away, not saying a word, as if by doing so he wouldn’t have to admit his guilt.

“You will leave here and never show your face again,” John ordered, thinking it seemed far too coincidental that a common thief, known to his clan, should suddenly show up here. And it was pointless to try and get any credible information from the man, since Daggit could weave a tale of lies with ease.

“Aye, aye, my—”

John struck him again and the back of the man’s head flew back and hit the trunk of the tree he was tied to, knocking him unconscious.

John looked at his bloody swollen knuckles and went to the small stream, a few short steps from the tree, and washed them clean. He let his hands linger in the running water for a few moments, the cold numbing the soreness.

He returned to the tree to find the man still hadn’t come to. It hadn’t taken him long to track Daggit down. He’d been more furious at the thought of what the man had intended to do to Sorrell, than that he had recognized him. It wasn’t lost to John that Daggit would somehow use seeing him here to his advantage. The man would sell his soul for a coin if possible.

He freed Daggit of the ties, letting his body drop to the ground. He heard him moan and nudged his slumped body with his booted-foot.

“Be warned, if you don’t do as I say, you’ll not live to see another sunrise.”

“It is me. John,” he said, not wanting to startle Snow when he entered the Great Hall and saw that she sat alone at a table, staring at the hearth as if mesmerized by the flames.

“You have a light step for a giant,” Snow said, turning in his direction.

“A skill I acquired,” he said, stopping in front of her.

“Out of necessity?”

“You might say that,” he said and placed the bundle of branches he held on the table in front of her. “These are for you. The branches Sorrell had collected. Is she feeling well?”

Snow’s face lit with delight. “You went and got them, and aye, she is fine.” She reached her hand out and touched his arm, her hand traveling down to take hold of his hand to thank him.

A wince escaped him before he could stop it, though it didn’t matter since Snow was exploring his swollen hands with delicate touches.

“That must pain you,” she said, her face grimacing. “Though, I dare say the other fellow probably suffered far worse.” She tilted her head back and stared up at him. “You went after him, didn’t you?”

“You’re observant for one who is blind.”

“Even those with sight can be blind,” Snow said.

John thought of his father. “Another wise observation.”

“Sorrell will bombard you with questions when she sees that hand.”

“When doesn’t she bombard me with questions or chatter?”