Free Darkest Highlander by Donna Grant Page A

wyrran was sent to scout for something or someone. Once it finds what it’s searching for, it’ll return to Deirdre.”
    “Who will then send more wyrran,” Sonya finished.
    “Aye.”
    “You think there’s only one, don’t you?”
    He wouldn’t lie to her, but how he wished she wouldn’t figure things out so quickly. “I doona want to say until I’ve had a look around.”
    “Just tell me your thoughts. Please.”
    He would rather go look first, but Sonya was having none of that. “I think there’s just one.”
    “I see,” she murmured. “Then you had better go after it.”
    It wasn’t yet noon. It would be easier if he waited until nightfall so he could fly, but waiting would allow the wyrran to put a great distance between them.
    “I’ll be fine,” Sonya said, as if sensing his reluctance. “I’ll stay here. In this chamber.”
    Broc looked around for a weapon—any weapon—he could give her. But there was nothing. As a Warrior, he didn’t need a sword or other blade. His claws and superior strength and speed were all the weapons he needed.
    Sonya watched Broc pace around the chamber as if he were searching for something. He stopped and glared at the door before he mumbled something about returning shortly and left.
    She was too curious about where Broc had gone to be able to relax. What had him so troubled? What could propel him out of the chamber so quickly?
    It hadn’t been wyrran. That she was sure of. What, then?
    Her answer presented itself when, a few moments later the door opened and Broc reentered. He walked to her and held out a short scabbard which held a dagger.
    Broc slowly pulled the weapon from its sheath, and Sonya found herself staring at a wicked, deadly-looking curved blade that came to a vicious point.
    “This is for you,” Broc said.
    Sonya took it, surprised to find that the dagger felt lighter than she had imagined. She studied, with astonishment, the detailed knot work etched into the wooden handle of the weapon. “Where did you find this?”
    “I had Jean tell me where I could purchase a weapon for you.”
    “You realize what’s on the hilt?”
    He gave a small jerk of his head. “It’s one of the reasons I chose it. Its light, and though the blade isna as long as a sword’s, it’s longer than some daggers.”
    Sonya couldn’t stop looking at the weapon. “I’ll keep it with me always. Thank you, Broc.”
    “If I didna have to leave, there’d be no need for you to have a blade. I’m no’ sure you should thank me.”
    She took his hand in hers and gave it a small squeeze. “No one has ever given me anything before.”
    His warm fingers closed over hers. She lost herself in his dark eyes, wondering, wishing she knew what thoughts ran through his mind. There were times, like then, that she thought he might want her.
    That he might desire her.
    Then he would blink and it would disappear, as if she imagined all of it.
    “I’ll return as soon as I can. The wyrran willna have gone far. Hopefully I’ll find it, kill it, and return before dark.”
    “And if you don’t?”
    “Jean already knows I have to leave. She’s going to keep an eye on you. There are a few men she uses to guard the inn, and they will be here tonight.”
    Sonya nodded absently. “You will return.”
    “If for some reason I doona, here’s coin,” he said, and handed her a small bag. “Use it to buy a horse and men to ride with you to the MacLeod’s.
    “You’ll return.”
    He stared at her a moment. “Aye, but just in case. Promise me you’ll do as I’ve asked.”
    “I promise.”
    Sonya couldn’t imagine Broc not returning, but then again if Deirdre was out for revenge, Broc would be one of the first on her list.
    He released her hand and turned away. Sonya stood and followed him. She didn’t want him to leave, but she knew he had no choice. He had to kill the wyrran before it reported back to Deirdre.
    “You will be careful,” she said.
    Broc turned to her with a smile.