The Wolf and the Highlander (Highland Wishes) Read Free Page A

this cottage.” He had just returned from Dornoch, where Darcy and his wife had revealed Anya’s plot to keep Ginneleah from catching a bairn. Ever true to his laird, Aodhan had told her to leave Ackergill and never return. If she did, he’d hand her over to Steafan along with a list of her sins. Steafan was not known for his mercy. Looked like she was going to meet her justice tonight after all.
    Aodhan’s color returned. Och, nothing rattled the war chieftain for long. He’d probably have recovered just as quickly if she really had been a ghost.
    “Before ye bring me to Steafan, I have somat to say.” She stepped closer to him, letting him see her jarring gait. “Tell Darcy I am sorry for what I did. And tell Ginneleah I deeply regret the pain I’ve caused her.” Her throat felt tight. She cleared it. Courage, Anya. Make your da proud. “And I’m sorry, Aodhan. I’m sorry for betraying you by plotting against your daughter and your laird. Our laird. I’m ready to face him now. Go on. Take me to Steafan.”
    She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. She’d learned not to expect Mercy from Aodhan merely because they’d been lovers. He’d cured her of that misconception when he’d exiled her and then left her for dead when he’d found her in that cleft.
    His brow creased. “Christ, lass. What happened to you?”
    Did he mean her limp? Her scars? “Ye ken what happened. I fell.”
    “I recall,” he said gravely.
    He was likely also recalling how she’d pleaded with him to rescue her, and how he’d refused because she’d failed to show concern for those she’d harmed with her plotting. What would he think if he kent how she’d changed these last months? Och, it didn’t matter. Feeling sorry didn’t change the wickedness she’d committed, especially when it had taken her near death to make her realize the depth of her own depravity.
    “How did you get out?” he asked.
    “A Rom rescued me.”
    He shifted on his feet, and the light of his lantern reflected off the box he held. It looked about the size of a shaving kit. Rich rosewood inlaid with white metal peeked out from between his fingers. The box looked familiar, but she couldn’t place where she’d seen it before.
    “Is that my da’s? What are you doing with it?” Anger lit a fire in her breast. “Are you thieving from him now that he’s gone? Why, ye bloody—”
    “It’s the box Steafan tried to destroy. The one Darcy’s wife said brought her from a future time.”
    The breath froze in her lungs. No wonder it looked familiar. She’d handled the bloody thing once, even read for herself the impossible date beside the maker’s mark. It had been springtime in the year 1517 when she’d last seen that box, yet it claimed to have been made in 1542.
    Her encounter with that box had been the start of her troubles. If she’d never laid eyes on it, would she be hale today? Would she be up at the keep, celebrating her da’s life with her clan?
    She took a step back. “Keep it away from me. It’s evil.”
    “Mayhap,” Aodhan agreed. “I watched Steafan take every weapon in the keep’s armory to it trying to destroy it. Even put it under the grinding stone in Darcy’s mill. Not even that did the trick. Last time I saw this, ’twas flying over the cliffs. Steafan shrieked like a banshee when he threw it. Look.” He rotated the box. “Not even a scratch.”
    Anya refused to get close enough to confirm it.
    “Your da must have found it while culling seaweed for market. Must be why he kept it with this rubbish.” He motioned toward the shelves.
    “’Tis no’ rubbish. Those trinkets made him happy.”
    “Whiskey made your da happy. These things kept him busy until the pub opened each night.”
    He was right, curse him. “Ye shouldna speak ill of the dead. How did he go? Do you ken?” Pain swelled in her chest and brought tears to her eyes. She didn’t let them fall. She wouldn’t let Aodhan see her cry. Her da had been a