Highland Sinner Read Free Page B

to find him and warn him.”
    Morainn considered that possibility for a moment and then shook her head. “Nay, I think not. Neither heart nor mind urges me to do that. If that were what I was meant to do, I would feel the urge to go out right now and hunt him down. And I would have been given some clue as to where he is.”
    “Oh. So we will soon see the mon whose eyes dinnae match?”
    “Aye, I do believe we will.”
    “Weel that will be interesting.”
    She smiled and turned her attention to the need to fill her very empty stomach. If the man with the mismatched eyes showed up at her door, it would indeed be interesting. It could also be dangerous. She could not allow herself to forget that death stalked him. Her visions told her he was innocent of those deaths, but there was some connection between him and them. It was as if each thing he touched died in bleeding agony. She certainly did not wish to become a part of that swirling mass of blood she always saw around his feet. Unfortunately she did not believe that fate would give her any chance to avoid meeting the man. All she could do was pray that when he rapped upon her door he did not still have death seated upon his shoulder.
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    Chapter 2
    “Do ye intend to be my judge and executioner, Simon?”
    Tormand watched as Simon struggled to gain some semblance of the calm and sanity he was so well known for. Despite how badly it stung to think that, even for one brief moment, Simon could believe that he could do such a thing to Clara, to any woman, Tormand could understand what prodded the man.
    Any man of honor would be horrified by what had been done to Clara and would ache to make someone pay for the crime. The brief insanity that could grip a man upon seeing such dark brutality easily explained why finding Tormand’s ring clutched in Clara’s hand would bring Simon to Tormand’s door in a blind fury. The fact that Simon had not immediately killed him told Tormand there was some doubt stirring behind Simon’s shock and fury.
    “Why was she clutching your ring?” Simon demanded.
    “I fear I have no answer for ye,” Tormand answered. “It was undoubtedly put there by the same one, or ones, who placed me in Clara’s bed.”
    Simon stared at Tormand for a moment before sheathing his sword. He sat down, poured himself a tankard of ale, and drank it all down. A shudder went through his tall, almost too lean frame, and then he poured himself another tankard full of ale.
    “Ye were there?” Simon finally asked in a much calmer tone of voice.
    “Aye.”
    Tormand drank some ale to prepare himself and told Simon everything he knew. He had not even finished his tale before he began to realize that he actually knew very little. All he could swear to was what he had seen—someone had killed Clara—and what he knew in his heart—that someone was not him. He did not know how he had been captured and taken to the room. He did not even know how Simon had become involved. It could have been simple bad luck, but Tormand’s instincts told him that it was much more than that. Although he had no proof of it, he felt certain it was all part of a plan. He just had to figure out what that plan was.
    “Why did ye go to see Clara?” he asked Simon. “Did her husband return, find her body, and then send for you?”
    “Nay. I received a summons I believed had come from Clara.” Simon shrugged. “It told me to arrive at her house with some of my men at a very precise time and to do so as furtively as possible.”
    “And ye acted on that? Did ye ken Clara weel enough for such a summons to make ye hie to her side?”
    “I didnae ken her as weel as ye did,” drawled Simon. “But, I did ken her weel enough. She was a cousin of mine.” He smiled faintly at the shock Tormand could not hide. “Dinnae fear that I will demand ye meet me at sword point to defend her honor. She had little left to