Pledged to a Highlander (Highland Promise Trilogy 1)

Royden had the same thought and all that he had lost came rushing back to him like a blow to the face. He wanted to roar out his fury, thrash someone or something, he needed a battle, but there were no more battles and while he was glad for it, he also feared the repercussion of not having an outlet for his anger.

“I should go,” she stood quickly so he couldn’t stop her and turned with the same haste.

Royden got so fast to his feet that the bench he sat on tumbled over. His face was a mask of pure rage and anger and his tongue so sharp that his words pierced like the point of a blade. “Who did that to you?”

Oria had moved so quickly she had forgotten about the scar along her jaw. Royden had seen it, though it wasn’t disgust she saw in his eyes when looking upon it. It was that feral look he’d get when angry, though much worse than she had ever seen it before. It was as if he was more animal than human and it frightened her.

Royden vaulted over the table, landing beside her. He took hold of her chin, turning her head so he could get a better look at the scar that ran along her right jawline, puckering in a couple of places.

“Who did this?” he repeated more demandingly.

Oria reached up and placed her hand on his to ease his hand off her chin, but his grip was firm and she couldn’t budge it.

Royden could let go of her, but the gentle touch of her cool hand shot a myriad of feelings through him that brought back a rush of memories reminding him of the deep binding love they had had for each other, and he didn’t want to let go of that. He didn’t want to let go of her.

“Don’t make me ask you again,” he warned when she failed to respond a second time.

Never would she think to fear Royden. Feeling safe and comfortable with him was part of what she loved about him. Now, however, a spark of fear ignited within her.

“A man named Firth. I fought him when he tried to pull me away from the keep. I bit him hard on the arm and for that I got this scar,” Oria said, touching the scar. “I continued to fight when two other men tried to throw me in a cart. Firth had enough of me and threw a punch to my face I couldn’t avoid and knocked me out. I woke in a cart, my hands tied, and my wound still bleeding.”

Anger raged like molten fire in him. Somehow he’d find Firth and the man would beg to die by the time he got done with him. He let Oria know what he intended. “I’m going to kill him.”

Firth was a ruthless man and she didn’t want Royden anywhere near him. “He’s long gone.”

“I’ll find him.”

Oria wrapped her hand around his wrist and gave it a squeeze. “Please, Royden, there’s been enough hurt and loss.”

He lifted his left arm, ready to caress her face as he had once done so often and stopped, realizing he had no hand. He released her chin and stepped back away from her.

Oria took the distance he had put between them as a rejection. He didn’t want her anymore, didn’t love her anymore. If he had stabbed her in the chest it would have been less painful.

“Go. Return home to your husband,” Royden ordered, needing her gone.

Oria raised her hood, covering her scar, and hurried out of the keep.

He warned himself not to follow her, not watch her leave, not lose her again. He lost the battle and hurried out of the keep. She was already riding away. She wanted to be rid of him and he couldn’t blame her. He’d come home a far different man. A man she didn’t know. A man she didn’t love.

“You and Oria have been through a lot. It takes time to heal,” Bethany said, having come up behind him.

“She has a husband to help her heal,” Royden said, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

“She didn’t tell you?”

Royden swerved around to glare at Bethany. “Tell me what?”

“Oria is a widow.”

Chapter 3

Royden looked over the fields with Penn. He had accomplished much in the three days since he’d been home, but had failed to come to any rationale solution about Oria. If she still loved him she would have told him right away that she was free to wed again, but she hadn’t. Though, he hadn’t been as kind as he should have been, but he had thought her a married woman. What did that matter? He should have at least let her know he never stopped loving her. He had told himself over and over that was the first thing he’d do when he returned home. He’d let Oria know he never, not for one day, one moment stopped loving her.