Entrusted to a Highlander (Highland Promise Trilogy 2)

That was it. Arran stopped, pulled out of Purity, and rolled off her onto his back. “I’m going to kill him.”

King got up, meowed, and walked off.

“I’m definitely going to kill him,” Arran growled. “Hear that, King, just wait. I’ll get my revenge.”

King meowed in the distance.

“Don’t threaten him or he’ll—”

“What will he do?” Arran demanded, interrupting her and turning on his side to glare at his wife. “I’m bigger and stronger than him.”

“And he’s sneaky and has very sharp claws,” she reminded and cringed. “Let me look at your back.”

Arran quickly turned his back to her, so angry that he feared he’d say something he’d regret.

“These scratches need cleaning. Let’s go to our bedchamber so I can clean them and you can put on another shirt. I’ll mend this one for you.”

“I don’t need them cleaned,” he said, frustrated.

“Aye, you do,” she said, resting her head to the back of his shoulder. “And when we’re done there’s something I want to do.”

“If you think to tempt me, I’m too annoyed to respond to any temptation,” he complained with another growl.

She sighed softly. “I’m disappointed, since I’ve been so eager to taste your shaft.”

Arran sprang to his feet and yanked her up by her arm. “We leave now.”

Arran held his wife’s hand and was all smiles when they entered the Great Hall hours later, though he sent King a scathing look when he saw him. The cat was busy cleaning his paws, but he stopped to spread his claws as if reminding Arran who had been the victor in their little skirmish.

“I’m seriously going to get revenge against him,” Arran said.

“If you feel the need. I for one am grateful—though I’m sorry he scratched you—since I very much enjoyed the taste of you.”

Arran’s smile spread, recalling just how much she had enjoyed herself and how much he absolutely loved it. “Still, King has to know he can’t do that again.”

“Maybe he didn’t like that you disturbed his tryst and he sought his own revenge,” she suggested with a chuckle.

Arran looked to King. “He can’t be that intelligent. Can he?”

He shook his head, thinking himself foolish for considering such a ridiculous thought and was about to tell a servant to fetch them food and drink, neither of them yet to have eaten today, when Quiver burst into the room, his eyes wide with fright.

“Hurry, sir! Orvin is dead. Someone sliced his throat.”

Chapter 22

Mumbles, whispers, and worried and solemn faces followed Arran as he walked, his hand clamped around his wife’s, through the village. The people were worried and they had a right to be.

Quiver stopped just outside a small dwelling. “Orvin was killed inside his own cottage.”

It was the implications of what that meant that had Purity silently asking herself—how? It was daylight. Surely, someone had seen something.

“Chieftain Galvin and Freen are in there,” Orvin said.

Arran slipped his hand out of hers. “You should wait out here. Quiver will wait with you as will King and Princess.” He gave a nod to the pair who he hadn’t realized followed them out of the keep.

Purity’s response was to take hasty steps to the front door,

Arran mumbled beneath his breath as he caught up with his wife. His hand beat hers to the latch and the weight of his body against hers saw them both through the door.

“What are you doing here, daughter?” Galvin yelled. “Get out! Get out now!”

Purity was quick to respond, “I’m not going anywhere, Father.”

“You will obey me, daughter,” her father threatened.

“The only one I obey now is my husband,” Purity said and heard Arran snicker.

Galvin turned a cold glare on Arran. “Order her to leave.”

“I won’t take her choice from her. She wants to stay, then she stays,” Arran said in a way that dared the man to argue with him and settled it even further by turning to Freen. “Who found him?”

“I did,” Freen said.

“On my behest” Galvin said. “Orvin has been doing nothing since he was released from his duties as cook and I sent Freen to tell him he’d be working in the fields. He couldn’t expect to do nothing all day. He has to do his share.”

Purity looked over Orvin as the men talked. He lay on his back near the hearth that burnt low. Blood pooled under his neck and had seeped into his shirt along his shoulders. The cut at his throat was more accurate than deep. The person who did this knew what he was doing or he’d been lucky.

“He favors Iona, they had threatening words, and he killed him.”

That brought Purity out of her musings.

“Quiver may have had words with him, but he didn’t kill him,” Arran argued and went to the door. “Quiver.” Arran’s summons had Quiver hurrying inside. “Did I order you to keep a watch over Iona after witnessing the heated exchange between you and Orvin?”