Return of the Rogue Read Free

debris. His identity was impossible to determine since he wore a long black cloak whose hood concealed his face.
    He paused while the relentless wind extinguished several candles and one of the warriors rushed over and fought the door shut.
    No one moved. No one spoke. It was almost as if everyone feared the hooded stranger, his identity concealed from all onlookers.
    Tavish Sinclare stepped forward, flanked by his two sons. “You have business here, stranger?”
    The hood-covered head nodded, and he walked slowly toward the laird Sinclare.
    Artair and Lachlan were quick to place their hands on the hilts of the swords that hung at their sides. But Tavish never made a move for his own sword. He stood tall and proud and without fear.
    Honora held her breath. Something was wrong, very wrong. She could feel it as she had the day her mother died. She had known running home from the moor that day that her life was about to change forever.
    The stranger threw his hood back just before he stopped in front of Tavish Sinclare. “I finally made it home, Father.”

Chapter 2
    H onora stepped back away from the chaos. Tavish Sinclare immediately embraced his son Cavan, though not for long since his wife Addie pushed through to reach her eldest son and hug him as only a loving mother could.
    The brothers shared less emotional embraces, and Honora noticed that they all smiled except for Cavan. His expression remained stoic, as if he was unmoved or unsure of those around him. But then, it had been a year since his capture, and surely things had changed for him. His appearance certainly had. She remembered him lean, but no longer. He was a mass of hard muscle, his chest broad beneath a tan linen shirt and his arms thick. He wore deer-hide leggings and fur-trimmed boots. His dark brown hair fell past his shoulders and looked in need of a good washing, as did his dirt-stained face, though the grime could not hide the thin red scar that ran from the corner of his right eye down to his chin bone.
    Her eyes caught his for a second and she shivered and quickly turned her head. She wasn’t sure whatshe had seen in the dark depths, and she didn’t want to know.
    “Has Ronan returned?” Cavan asked.
    Tavish placed a consoling hand on his son’s shoulder. “We’ve had no success in finding him.”
    Cavan shook his head slowly. “We were separated once captured. He was injured—”
    His father squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll discuss it later. You are in need of rest and nourishment.”
    “Of which we have plenty,” Lachlan teased, stretching his arms out at the laden tables.
    Honora had a feeling Tavish spoke of far different nourishment. She could see the ache of concern for his son in the older man’s narrowed eyes.
    “What do you celebrate?” Cavan asked.
    “My wedding,” Artair boasted.
    “Not so,” someone shouted, and Honora’s flesh prickled when her stepfather stepped forward to approach Tavish Sinclare.
    The feeling of dread caught Honora strong and hard this time, twisting her stomach until she wanted to scream for her stepfather to stop. Whatever Calum was about to say did not bode well for her at all.
    “We have a problem here,” Calum said, his arms crossed firmly over his chest as he spoke directly to Tavish. “Our agreement and the signed and seal-affixed documents state that my daughter was to wed the next laird of the Clan Sinclare, who at the time was believed to be Artair. With Cavan’s return, it means that Honora is wed to Cavan, not Artair.”
    “What nonsense is this?” Artair demanded.
    Calum remained firm in his claim. “Our agreement is binding and I will see you held to it, Tavish Sinclare.”
    The hall remained quiet, except for the whispers that began to sound like buzzing bees. All waited to see how their laird would settle the dispute.
    “Let the feast begin while this matter is discussed in private,” Tavish announced, and then walked away, a signal for his family and Calum to