Entrusted to a Highlander (Highland Promise Trilogy 2)

Princess went for Quiver, but the man turned and ran, screaming, “I mean you no harm. I mean you no harm.”

Owen fumbled for his sword at his side, blood pouring down his face. The Northman didn’t hesitate, he ran his sword through the man and Owen’s mouth dropped open in shock as he dropped to the ground dead.

The Northmen wiped his bloody sword clean on Owen’s garment and returned it to his sheath. He then went to Reid and retrieved his axe, cleaning the weapon on the dead man before slipping it into the loop on his belt.

Purity remained a distance from him, Princess taking a protective stance in front of her. King, the cat she had raised since he’d been a kitten, paced and hissed in front of Princess, warning the Northman to keep his distance. She felt safer with King and Princess there. They were highly protective of her and were quick to alert her to danger or protect her when necessary, as Princess had done today. And she was sure that King’s little morning tantrum that had kept him away would result in him remaining closer to her than usual since he had failed to be there when she needed him. Like now, warning the Northman to keep his distance.

Purity couldn’t say the man didn’t frighten her, his appearance alone did that. His foreign attire made him appear the savage the Northmen were known to be and, though lean, he was all hard muscle from the look of his bare arms and what she could see of his chest. She thought it odd he wore his hair cropped short. She had thought all Northmen wore their hair long—a sign of strength. His dark eyes were as intense as his voice.

He turned to her. “Did they harm you?”

The bare touch of gentleness in his voice sparked something familiar and she shook her head as she stared at his features. He possessed more than just fine features. He was handsome beyond measure and that stirred a memory. She had known only one man as handsome as he. His frequent smile had tempted, his words had flattered, his cajoling nature had drawn endless women to him.

She saw the resemblance then and her breath caught. It was the absence of his smile, his eyes devoid of any feelings, the lack of any regret in having taken a life or two that had her failing to recognize the man standing in front of her. The man who she loved for far too many years now. The man who didn’t feel the same about her and never would. The man she had once begged to wed her. And when he spoke, he confirmed it.

“I am Arran of the Clan MacKinnon, and I have come in search of my sister, Raven.”

Chapter 2

Purity made sure to keep her left hand hidden from Arran. If he saw it, he was sure to recognize her, and she didn’t want that. She’d been born missing her thumb and pinky, leaving her hand to resemble a claw. She had suffered horribly through the years because of it, no one wanting to befriend her and some insisting she bore the mark of the devil. Arran’s sister Raven was not one of them. She called Purity a friend, not so Arran. Not that he was ever mean to her.

He had asked her once if she’d ever been kissed and when she had told him no, he asked if she’d like to be. She had wanted no pity kiss from him even though she had wondered what it would feel like. She had no worry he would recognize her, since he probably hadn’t given a single thought to her in his time away. Except for her hand, of course, he would surely recognize her once he spotted it. Otherwise, he had barely paid heed to her years ago, and she had changed much. The love of her new home—the forest—had done that for her.

“I can describe Raven when last I saw her. She was near to turning ten and five years, but with five years having past, I can’t say what she looks like now,” Arran said. “She has hair the color of a raven, black. It was long and wavy, though often in disarray. Her blues eyes were striking, her complexion pale, her features lovely, but again that was five years ago. By chance has she passed this way?”

Purity had given her word to hold her tongue when it came to Raven and she would keep it, but she would not let Arran suffer because of it. She wasn’t prone to lies, though through the years she had learned that lies slipped easily from peoples’ tongues, sometimes out of necessity and sometimes purely for one’s own benefit. Still, she avoided lying when possible and offered a partial truth to him.