Page 71 of The Laird who Craved her

The rhythmic sound of heavy hooves slowly faded into the distance, and the courtyard gradually returned to life around him. Stable lads crossed toward the barns carrying heavy buckets of grain, while a pair of guards resumed their usual patrol along the upper walls.

Finn slowly lowered his gaze to the ground, spotting a pale scrap of leather resting in the freezing mud right beside the fresh carriage tracks. It was one of Claire's gloves, which must have slipped from her hand when he had caught her on the iron step.

He bent down and picked it up, finding that the soft leather was somehow still warm from her skin. His thumb brushed absentmindedly across the delicate stitching at the wrist.

He closed his fist securely around the glove, his fingers tightening until the soft leather creased against his palm.

Heavy footsteps approached across the cobblestones, and Douglas stopped quietly beside him. Neither man spoke for a long time as they stood together, looking out toward the empty, misty road stretching beyond the gates.

"Ye could still catch them," Douglas suggested quietly.

Finn's grip tightened around the forgotten glove. "I willnae," he answered flatly.

Douglas nodded once in understanding. "I ken."

A heavy silence settled comfortably between the two warriors. A biting, cold wind swept forcefully through the open gateway, stirring Finn's dark hair and tugging lightly at the leather gloveclenched tightly in his hand. Douglas looked down at the scrap of leather, and then back up at his oldest friend.

"Ye love her," Douglas stated simply.

Finn stared blankly at the empty road, struggling to swallow his grief as no words came. He remained silent because Douglas was right, and speaking aloud would make it real. Admitting that his heart had ridden away inside that carriage made him doubt his actions.

Douglas said nothing further, respecting the Laird. By midday, Rosewood Castle returned to its busy rhythm, or so everyone thought. Finn walked purposefully into the council chamber, Douglas behind him, where Angus and two guards awaited beside the long oak table with a map of the estate.

"Me Laird," the men greeted, straightening to attention as he entered the room.

Finn offered them a curt, dismissive nod. "The southern wall?" he demanded immediately.

"Finished before noon," Angus replied promptly, pointing to the map. "Though we will need to quarry more stone before the month's end."

"And the patrols?" Finn pressed.

"We have doubled the western route exactly as ye ordered," Angus confirmed.

Finn studied the map with a hard stare. "Good, keep them there for another fortnight."

The grey afternoon had just begun to fade into dusk when the frantic sound of galloping hooves completely shattered the quiet of the keep. Finn looked up from his position on the upper battlements, spotting a lone rider pushing his mount incredibly hard and fast. The exhausted horse was lathered with white sweat long before it even reached the outer gate.

"Open the gates!" T he rider's desperate cry echoed wildly through the courtyard.

The guards hurried to pull the heavy wooden gates wide, and the rider barely waited for them to stop moving before swinging recklessly from his saddle. He stumbled heavily as his boots struck the cobblestones, breathing raggedly from the punishing journey.

"Me Laird," the man gasped out as he looked up at the walls.

Finn descended the stone steps two at a time, landing in the courtyard with a heavy thud. "What is it?" he demanded instantly.

The messenger reached a shaking hand beneath his mud-splattered cloak and withdrew a folded letter. "The MacSweens sent me with haste," the man panted.

Finn took the parchment, his eyes immediately locking onto the wax seal bearing the distinct MacSween crest. His stomach tightened into a painful knot, knowing it was too soon for such correspondence.

Claire could not have possibly reached the MacSween lands yet, unless something had gone terribly wrong. He broke the thick red wax with a brutal flick of his thumb. Douglas appeared beside him without a single word, sensing the sudden, oppressive shift in the air. The busy courtyard gradually fell completely silent around them, and even the young stable lads stopped what they were doing to watch their Laird.

Finn unfolded the parchment, his green eyes moving rapidly across the first lines.

Lord MacRae, word has reached our borders regarding sudden unrest and armed raiding parties gathering near the eastern crossing.

Finn let out a heavy breath, his tense shoulders loosening just a fraction as he read the cautious opening line of the dispatch.

Given the dangerous instability of the rival clans in that region, I do not believe it is safe for Lady Claire to travel the main roads at this time.