Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

It was an unusually warm day in the town even for summer, the sun shining brightly over the town. Macauley cursed under his breath with every drop of sweat that coated his brow as he and Kian navigated the streets, their horses left at the local inn at Kian’s insistence.

He liked to walk, he said.

Well, he can walk. I like tae ride.

He could hardly bring his horse in the middle of the market on such a busy day, of course, since the stalls and the crowds took up so much space. Though Macauley usually enjoyed visiting the town with Kian and talking to the locals, this day seemed to have started on a very wrong note for him.

“After this, I’m goin’ tae the inn an’ I’m drinkin’ a nice cup o’ ale,” he told Kian as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Next to him, his friend was perfectly put-together, not a strand of hair out of place.

Perhaps it comes with bein’ the laird. He always magically looks perfect.

Macauley couldn’t help but resent him for it, just a little.

“An’ I will join ye,” said Kian, giving him a pat on the back. As they walked, he stopped a few times to talk to the locals, exchanging pleasantries and listening to their concerns while Macauley stood by his side, mentally noting any issues they would have to resolve at a later time.

It was his favorite part of the job. Being Laird Drummond’s advisor came with many perks, but what he loved most was that he could help people. He could listen to them, he could solve their problems, he could take care of his clan.

He could do what he did best.

“Macauley,” Kian said suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. He tilted his head to the side with an odd rise of his eyebrows, and Macauley followed the direction he was pointing at to see a young woman smiling at him.

Quickly, he averted his gaze.

“Is she nae tae yer tastes?” Kian asked, laughing at his reaction.

“She’s bonnie,” said Macauley with a small shrug.

“But nae bonnie enough?”

“She’s very bonnie, Kian.”

“I dinnae understand,” Kian said as the two of them resumed their walk through the market. “There are so many lasses who adore ye. They would dae anythin’ fer ye an’ ye dinnae desire any o’ them. How can that be?”

“They are all too proper,” Macauley said simply. It was the truth. It wouldn’t feel right to deceive them, to make them think that he was interested in something more than a night with them. He didn’t have it in him to lie to a woman like that just so that he could bed her. “Ye ken I have nae desire tae wed. I have nae need fer heirs, so I’m nae obligated tae find a wife. An’ all these lasses want marriage.”

“Ye’ll find the right one, eventually,” Kian insisted, like he had many times, the last time no more than a couple of weeks before. However, Macauley very much doubted that. He had never had any interest in marriage and he didn’t think that was ever going to change.

“If ye say so, me laird,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm at the title. “Well, I will go tae the healer’s cottage an’ speak with her if ye wish tae speak tae the townsfolk. I will see if she kens anyone else who can take her place while she recovers.”

“Very well,” said Kian. “Shall we meet at the inn once we are finished here?”

Macauley didn’t have the chance to respond before he heard the tell-tale swish of a flying arrow. Before he could think better about what he was doing, he jumped in front of Kian, shielding him from it, his instincts taking over.

Pain blossomed over his arm where the arrow hit. He didn’t need to look down to know it had lodged itself in his arm. Only a few inches to the side and he would have been a dead man.

“Macauley!” Kian’s voice rang through the market as he grabbed him, while in turn, Macauley grabbed his arm. Blood soaked his tunic, dripping unbridled down his arm, and soon the earth seemed to move under his feet.

It was the shock and the pain, he told himself. It was only because it had been so sudden. He couldn’t have possibly lost so much blood already that he was feeling the effects of it.

The crowd gathered closer as more and more people realized what had happened, closing in on him and Kian. But that was the opposite of what Macauley needed in that moment. That arrow had come from somewhere and he needed to figure out who had shot it.

“Stay back!” he called, though the townsfolk hardly heard him over the turmoil. Their voices and their rushing footsteps drowned out his command—one they wouldn’t follow, since they weren’t his men. They were only people, confused and worried and scared there was an enemy among them. “Kian, ye must hide. This wasnae meant fer me. It was meant fer ye.”

“There is nae one there,” Kian said, though he couldn’t possibly know that. There were many places one could use to hide in the town, and for all either of them knew, their attacker could still be there, lurking, waiting for the right moment to strike once more.

Perhaps the next time, they wouldn’t miss.

“Kian, listen tae me,” Macauley said urgently. Even as the pain worsened now that the initial shock had subsided, his mind was getting clearer, as well. He could think logically once more. He could do his job. “It’s dangerous here. We must leave.”

“We cannae leave if we dinnae find who did this,” Kian insisted.

“That is a task fer another day.”

Macauley’s main objective now was to get Kian somewhere safe, somewhere away from arrows and swords and people who wished to hurt him. Everything else could wait. Surely, whoever had shot the arrow had been aiming for Kian only. They had no reason to kill any of the townspeople.

As he regained his strength, Macauley began to tug Kian away, but Kian was too stubborn to move. Then, before he could take a single step, the crowd parted as a young woman pushed her way through, shouting.

“I am a healer!” she said. “Let me through!”

“Well… isnae that lucky?” Kian asked, gripping Macauley’s shoulders tightly as though he still feared he would collapse from the injury. It was silly, Macauley thought. Kian had seen him in battle and he hadn’t been as concerned, but perhaps the abruptness of it all had gotten to him, too.

Macauley gazed at the woman, at her long, brown hair, the blue eyes that shone under the sunlight. Perhaps it was the blood loss, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but think that she looked like an angel.

“Aye,” he said. “Very lucky.”