the roads left by the late afternoon rainfall. Dougall dismounted, giving his tired horse a rest from the breakneck pace he'd traveled from Glasgow. The horse nickered, then moved to the side of the muddy expanse to munch on a tuft of soft green grass.
The wind picked up, and Dougall shivered, this time not holding the sensation back. He pulled the edges of the tartan cloth tossed over his shoulder closer around his body and listened for the soft sound of hoofbeats approaching.
Nothing.
Dougall fixed his attention on the north road. As soon as Cory arrived they would head in that direction, traveling all night if they must to reach Taturn Abbey.
It was beyond time for them to retrieve their sister, Rhiannon. She would bring a pretty price — enough funds to continue the battle against the Lockharts their father had started decades ago when James and Camden's father had stolen the woman their father had wanted. And even though their father was dead, killed by the English, his sons had made a promise to avenge him until the day they died.
They had tried to kill the Lockharts for years, but until James had split the clan in two, dividing its members and staff between both Lee and Lockhart Castles, the Lockharts had been too powerful an enemy. With James's relocation came their opportunity. They'd waited and watched until the time was right.
Killing James had been a start to their long-awaited revenge. But until all the Lockharts were dead, they would not rest.
Rhiannon knew nothing of their vendetta. They'd kept her isolated most of her life from what it meant to be a Ruthven. But now it was time for their sister to pay her debt to the family name.
The soft sound of hoofbeats broke into Dougall's thoughts. "Cory? Is that ye?" Dougall strained to see the dark figure approaching in the silver light.
"Why in God's name did ye summon me out here?" Cory complained as he continued forward. "I know we canna show ourselves tae many o' our countrymen, but this place is out o' the way fer even ye." Cory brought his horse to a stop alongside Dougall's and dismounted.
Cory's mocking tone brought a frown to Dougall's face. "Ye summoned me."
Dougall tensed. "Nay, ye left word wi' the innkeeper tae meet ye here."
An expression of unease crossed Cory's face. He twisted back toward the horses. "It's a trap," he cried.
An arrow flew through the night air with faultless precision, finding its mark in Cory's chest. Before Dougall could move, a searing pain in his chest robbed him of breath.
A whisper of sound came to his ears and a shadow detached itself from the night, heading toward them from atop a horse. "What do ye want?" he asked even though he knew the answer.
The man said nothing, only continued his progression forward. Dougall's heart was pounding, hurting. He could see Cory's body outlined against the silver moonlight. He saw his brother twist, then fall to the ground as a second arrow protruded from his chest.
Oh, God, they could not die. Camden Lockhart still had to pay for his father's misdeeds.
The large muscular man brought his horse to a stop and dismounted. He headed for Dougall, his bow extended before him.
"Don't!" Dougall tried to run. Pain exploded inside him. Once. Twice. He dropped to his knees as something warm and salty filled his mouth.
He was dying. And he was afraid. The big man dropped his bow and reached for the sword at his side. In an instant the sword whipped against his neck. The weapon swung, sliced, and was free.
At first light, Camden rode out of the castle alone, retracing his steps from a few days ago. He had to find the assassin he had hired. He had to cancel the attacks on Rhiannon. For another bag of coins, he was certain the blacksmith would guide him to the assassin.
Back at the castle, he'd left Orrin in charge of Violet and Rhiannon's protection, never explaining exactly why he needed such a service of his friend. Orrin was wise enough not to ask.
Camden had even demanded that
The wind picked up, and Dougall shivered, this time not holding the sensation back. He pulled the edges of the tartan cloth tossed over his shoulder closer around his body and listened for the soft sound of hoofbeats approaching.
Nothing.
Dougall fixed his attention on the north road. As soon as Cory arrived they would head in that direction, traveling all night if they must to reach Taturn Abbey.
It was beyond time for them to retrieve their sister, Rhiannon. She would bring a pretty price — enough funds to continue the battle against the Lockharts their father had started decades ago when James and Camden's father had stolen the woman their father had wanted. And even though their father was dead, killed by the English, his sons had made a promise to avenge him until the day they died.
They had tried to kill the Lockharts for years, but until James had split the clan in two, dividing its members and staff between both Lee and Lockhart Castles, the Lockharts had been too powerful an enemy. With James's relocation came their opportunity. They'd waited and watched until the time was right.
Killing James had been a start to their long-awaited revenge. But until all the Lockharts were dead, they would not rest.
Rhiannon knew nothing of their vendetta. They'd kept her isolated most of her life from what it meant to be a Ruthven. But now it was time for their sister to pay her debt to the family name.
The soft sound of hoofbeats broke into Dougall's thoughts. "Cory? Is that ye?" Dougall strained to see the dark figure approaching in the silver light.
"Why in God's name did ye summon me out here?" Cory complained as he continued forward. "I know we canna show ourselves tae many o' our countrymen, but this place is out o' the way fer even ye." Cory brought his horse to a stop alongside Dougall's and dismounted.
Cory's mocking tone brought a frown to Dougall's face. "Ye summoned me."
Dougall tensed. "Nay, ye left word wi' the innkeeper tae meet ye here."
An expression of unease crossed Cory's face. He twisted back toward the horses. "It's a trap," he cried.
An arrow flew through the night air with faultless precision, finding its mark in Cory's chest. Before Dougall could move, a searing pain in his chest robbed him of breath.
A whisper of sound came to his ears and a shadow detached itself from the night, heading toward them from atop a horse. "What do ye want?" he asked even though he knew the answer.
The man said nothing, only continued his progression forward. Dougall's heart was pounding, hurting. He could see Cory's body outlined against the silver moonlight. He saw his brother twist, then fall to the ground as a second arrow protruded from his chest.
Oh, God, they could not die. Camden Lockhart still had to pay for his father's misdeeds.
The large muscular man brought his horse to a stop and dismounted. He headed for Dougall, his bow extended before him.
"Don't!" Dougall tried to run. Pain exploded inside him. Once. Twice. He dropped to his knees as something warm and salty filled his mouth.
He was dying. And he was afraid. The big man dropped his bow and reached for the sword at his side. In an instant the sword whipped against his neck. The weapon swung, sliced, and was free.
At first light, Camden rode out of the castle alone, retracing his steps from a few days ago. He had to find the assassin he had hired. He had to cancel the attacks on Rhiannon. For another bag of coins, he was certain the blacksmith would guide him to the assassin.
Back at the castle, he'd left Orrin in charge of Violet and Rhiannon's protection, never explaining exactly why he needed such a service of his friend. Orrin was wise enough not to ask.
Camden had even demanded that
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