For the Highlander's Pleasure

“I don’t want trouble,” the shadow said, lifting his arms slightly so that Finn could see them. “I just came for water.”

Finn caught sight of the cups in his raised hands, one palm higher than the other because of his awkward build.

“With a river and a downpour outside?” Finn pressed the blade more firmly against the intruder’s hauberk.

In the darkness, it was difficult to gauge his age or his social status. A man at arms? A common thief? It seemed likely he was an outcast. Though he appeared young and healthy, his limp meant he would not fare well with either a peasant’s labor or a knight’s training.

“It is not fit for man or beast out there.” The stranger did not wear a sword, but there was a short blade at his waist. His clothes were shabby, Finn could now tell. “I sought shelter for my drink.”

Was this one of the forest dwellers that Violet worried about? She had feared Finn would drive out anything and everything he found in the woods around Caladan. And although he would not be so callous, neither would he let a killer walk hidden among the poor and downtrodden.

“Finn?” From above, Violet’s voice drifted down the stairs.

No doubt she’d been worried, but he would have preferred the interloper remain ignorant of her presence. Finn did not answer her yet. Instead, he studied the stranger’s face to search for his reaction to Violet’s call. Had the man known she was above stairs? Was he as familiar with her hideaway upstairs as he was with the water source below?

“Who are you?” he pressed, sword never wavering.

“John Miller. My grandfather ran this mill before the water wheel broke.” The man looked to his raised hands where he still carried the water. “Would you mind if I set down the cups?”

“Finn?” Violet called again.

Had she come closer? She would not be in immediate danger with his sword and his body between her and the intruder, but she would be safest hidden away from him. Protectiveness surged, an instinct as keen as his thirst for vengeance had once been. He realized he wanted to keep Violet of Caladan safe from harm even more than he wanted to avenge his brother. He would do both. But if he had to choose, he would guard Violet first.

“’Tis a stranger come for a drink. John Miller.” Unwilling to allow the man any unchecked movement, he took the vessels from Miller’s hands, setting them on a warped chest nearby.

Violet’s feet sounded on the stairs. He knew she descended. Knew she would not appreciate him holding one of her forest dwellers hostage. He cursed himself for not ensuring she remained locked safely in the keep this night.

“I have seen him in the forest before.” She rounded the final corner of the stairs and hurried into view in her saffron gown. Spying Finn’s sword, she stopped a few feet behind him. “He is but a harmless exile.”

Finn could smell the rose scent of her, a faint reminder of her delicate nature as a woman. He’d been entrusted with so much to watch over her.

Soon he would install her in his best keep and serve her from his fingers. He hated that she’d been so ill-treated by her father that she’d made a second home for herself in the woods. A home that put her in contact with thieves and cutthroats. Possibly killers.

“He says his grandfather ran the mill.” Finn would not harass anyone who had lived in these woods for a long time. His brother had been stabbed at harvest time in the Highlands, so if John Miller had been here longer than that, he was not likely the killer. “Is this true?”

“I am too young to remember when this mill operated. But I have heard others say as much.” She seemed to relax now that she could see the other man, perhaps reassured the intruder was not anyone she considered harmful. “He has drawn water for my friend Morag many times these last weeks.”

But where was John Miller before that?

“Stand back,” Finn cautioned, keeping his sword pointed at Miller.

But John Miller did not move a muscle. He was such a compliant hostage, in fact, that Finn guessed he wasn’t guilty of anything more than homelessness. Outcasts went to the forests to scratch out a living when they were banished. Still, he couldn’t be too careful. He would take the man back to Caladan to find out who could vouch for him. He eased the sword back into his belt, and withdrew the short blade at his waist. That would be more than enough weaponry to hold the man.

Finn turned to Violet to explain his plan. She watched him with worried eyes. She was incomparably lovely, gracious and strong at the same time. He’d never met a woman daring enough to slip past the watchtower guards and yet clever enough to protect her hiding places by spreading rumors of ghosts.