Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“You are no son of mine,” his father spat in disgust.
“That would be good news. Tell me it is so,” Cavell fired back.
His father mounted his horse. “Mark my words well, Cavell. You will regret this day.”
Cavell watched as his father made his way through the village, calling for people to get out of his way. He had always been a demanding man and sometimes cruel as Harcus could be at times and truthfully so could he.
You are not my son.
His da had said those words so often to him through the years that they meant nothing to him, though they had upset his mum when she heard it. She always reassured him that he was his father’s son. He would have preferred he wasn’t.
He felt his wife’s hand slip gently into his and he gave it a squeeze, grateful she was there beside him.
“My father never gives up that easily,” Cavell said. “This is not over between us.”
The thought hung heavy on Cavell as he walked through the village with his wife concerned what his father might do in retaliation. He always struck back when he believed he’d been wronged even when it was obvious, he hadn’t been wronged. His mum had tried to calm his father when his temper erupted but she would feel the back of his hand when she did and after a while she stopped trying and he had been glad she did, worried his father would hurt her badly. He had been away when she passed, and he was sorry he never got to see her one last time.
Elsie hated to see her husband in such a dour mood. More and more lately she was getting a glimpse of the charmer he once had been, and she found she favored him. The only way she knew to change his mood for the better was to…
“We should return to the keep and spend time alone,” she suggested, and her heart melted when he turned a generous smile on her. Scars or no scars, the man’s smile could devastate the heart.
“What are you suggesting, wife?” he asked teasingly.
“That we do something we both find extremely enjoyable.”
“And what is that?” he asked, scrunching his brow as if perplexed.
He knew full well what she meant but he wanted to hear her tell him she wanted to make love with him, see the passion that would spark in her lovely eyes, hear the desire drip from her words and feel the urgent tug of her hand.
His groin tightened, seeing a spark light in her eyes. He stopped and with a gentle twist to her arm to bring it behind her back, he eased her tight against him. “Tell me what you want, Elsie.”
“You,” she whispered, and a shout stopped their lips from joining.
“SIR!”
The sudden, sharp shout had Cavell turning.
One of the Gallowglass warriors stood not far from them. “A troop of Lowland warriors approach.”
CHAPTER 23
Cavell stood with his wife at his side on the keep’s steps watching the leader of the Lowland troop and one of his men make their way toward them. He saw how the man wrinkled his nose in disgust as he glanced around. The Lowlanders believed the Highlanders were barbarians, ignorant, and living a tribal existence compared to the Lowlanders wealthier, more knowledgeable, less clannish, and far more engaged with the English who the Highlanders did not trust.
He had seen it for himself when he and Noble had been sent to deliver a message to a man in the Lowlands. He and Noble could not leave the area and its people fast enough. And neither he nor Noble ever wanted to return to a place that lacked honor.
Cavell didn’t wait for the leader, a young and not at all seasoned warrior from the look of him, to bring his horse to a stop. He called out in a commanding tone, “What are you doing here, Lowlander?”
Anger creased the man’s brow at the rude greeting. “I am Frewen, and I have come in search of a woman.”
“You don’t have enough women in the Lowlands?” Cavell asked and the Gallowglass warriors who surrounded the two men laughed.
The young leader realized only then that he was encircled and, to him, not by warriors but savages, and sweat broke out on his brow, a sure sign of fear.
“Have your say, Lowlander, and be on your way home,” Cavell warned.
“Frewen,” he reminded of the name. “The woman I search for was brought to the Highlands against her will and—”
Cavell didn’t let him finish. “Highlanders don’t take women against their will, especially Lowland women. They are not strong enough to survive the Highlands.”
The man ignored Cavell’s disparaging remark and continued speaking. “To find this woman I was to speak with a woman being held at Dundren Abbey who knows the whereabouts of the young woman I search for, but with the fire there and the attack on the monks, we cannot confirm for certain whether she survived or died.”