Christine Young [Highland 01] Highland Honor (pdf)

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he bent down to kiss her. His lips touched hers sweetly at first then a bit more
demanding. She returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him
close.
So much was at stake here. Their lives. Hawke was so worried about Ian. He had
sent men to find him. They had all returned, disheartened by their journeys.
No one had seen or heard anything save a few rumors that led nowhere.
And thoughts of betrayal; Huntington's and her stepbrother's names always
followed. Still, Hawke sent more men to search. She didn't doubt for a moment this
hunting trip of his might have more than one purpose.
"Ye have spent so much time pacing and worrying about Ian. Use this time well,"
she said, praying they would find success.
Yet, what could Hawke discover in a day's outing where his other men could not
find out in weeks of searching?
"We're ready," one of Hawke's men cried out. He let her go and mounted his
horse. Then he tipped his hat to her.
She watched his back as he rode from the castle, knowing when he returned, she
would have betrayed his trust.
She had never lied to him, had told him from the very beginning she would do all in
her power to find out why her father had sentenced his father to death.
Perhaps it had not been her father.
She would discover that too.
Making her way to the castle and up the long winding steps to the south tower, she
knew she was about to change her life and Hawke's forever. Until now, she had
not realized how deeply she loved Hawke. She rested her hand on her stomach.
His child, his son, grew in her womb.
After she entered the room, she sat on a chair and stared at the wall in front of her.
Within the wall lay the answer to secrets. Hesitating, her hands trembling, she
rose. She ran her fingers over the wall, searching for the magical spot. She found
it and pushed. Slowly the brick moved backward then to the side.
Within the dark narrow confines, she saw nothing. No box. No secret.
Her hand rested on her throat. She closed her eyes, trying desperately to steady
her breathing.
What had Hawke done with it?
Where could he have put it?
Just last evening she had followed him. She had seen him take out the box and
then after turning it over in his hands, he had put it back inside the little cubbyhole.
When he'd turned to leave, she'd raced down the steps nearly tripping over her
long skirts and tumbling to the bottom.
She had been so sure she would find the box here and at long last find out what
was inside.
Hawke. Curse his tenacity. Despite her hasty flight, he must have known she was
there.
And he had known she would come today to find it.
Hawke had tricked her.
Anger turned to admiration. Her husband was just as determined in his own ways
as she was in hers. She wanted to curse him, yet she could not. She yearned to
tell him how brave and noble he was but she was too furious with him.
But a storm was brewing. And she knew Hawke would find himself in the middle.
Because she had come to him for protection.
How strange to have come to the home of her enemy, seeking shelter and finding
exactly that--protection, safety--a husband. Now she loved her enemy with all her
heart. She would bear his child in seven months time. Ah, and perhaps he had
been right to keep trying and trying until his seed took root, although she might
truly have conceived this child on that first time.
His gentleness and caring had won her over.
Callie didn't know what to do. She had watched and waited for this opportunity and
now--
She had accomplished nothing.
And she would have to start again. Callie left and closed the door behind her,
wondering where he would have secured the box.
Hawke, she spoke silently to herself. Where did ye put the box? I would give most
anything to know the answer.
Suddenly she was very afraid those words would come back to haunt her. She
wanted Hawke's arms around her. She needed his warmth and his comfort,
needed to find peace. She prayed he would stop thinking of her as his enemy.
* * *
Hawke rolled the ring around in his hand. She had come so close to discovering it.
If he hadn't noticed the soft scent of jasmine floating in the air, he would have
never realized she watched him.
Yet would she recognize the seal and understand the significance?
"What are ye going to do with the ring?" Jarrod asked. They had ridden silently for
miles. "Ye cannot keep it. Even now, if Huntington suspected ye had found it, he
would cry treason and ye would end up with your head on the chopping block."
Hawke rubbed his neck, thinking and all the while wondering the same things as
Jarrod. His gaze drifted upward and he watched a hawk soar on the wind currents.
To be as free as the hawk and as strong in purpose, Hawke thought. Sometimes
he longed for a simpler life, a life where he had no responsibilities save to the
woman he'd wed. That was not to be though. He knew he could take no chances
with his life or Callie's. "If given the opportunity, Huntington would make Callie's
existence a living hell. She had truly come to him in good faith. She wasn't
Huntington's pawn."
"I ken it," Jarrod agreed. "The man is evil through to his very soul. All that know
him understand he has no heart, his thoughts are dark and evil."
"Perhaps I should send a messenger with the ring to King Henry. I could implicate
the very men who plotted against him so many years ago."
"And your explanation for possessing the seal--the duplicate?" Jarrod asked, while
he thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "I would have an answer before I stuck my neck in
a noose."
He shrugged. Complications were not what Hawke wanted right now. "There is no
explanation that is believable."
"Ye could lose the ring."
Perhaps simplicity would win out. "Bury the impostor deep in the ground. Or send
it back to Huntington. Let him bury it himself."
"And what of Ian. Ye don't know where he is so ye cannot take any chances with
his life. Huntington or Covington could have him imprisoned. 'Tis not likely but ye
cannae take a chance."
Chances, rumors, Hawke could deal with none of them. "No one has heard
anything. Someone has to know."
"Whoever it is, is not speaking." Jarrod flinched slightly, his head turning,
searching. "Did ye hear anything?" he queried.
"Nay," he said.
Jarrod relaxed slightly. "Nay," he spoke softly, his body tense. "The last we knew,
Ian was near the coast, traveling as a priest."
"No one has seen him since."
"But there are rumors." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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