Highland Archer Read online

  Once outside, he inhaled deeply. The forest was lightened by the full moon and he stared at it. “Who was that beast? What did it mean?”

  Why did he see himself both taken and left behind? What could it possibly mean? He remembered a brother. Seemed to be older than him, but who knew. Someone he played with as a child. A secret he’d kept, never revealing to anyone the sparse memories of his short childhood before coming to Clan McLeod. There was a woman as well, with dark hair like his and the same gray eyes as he and his brother. The woman had kissed him often, hugged him to her and sang soft songs. Had she decided to keep his brother and send him away because he was not good enough? What cause would a mother have to send her child to live with strangers?

  “I will find you,” he vowed as a falling star crossed the sky. “One day, I will find you, mother and brother, and learn the truth of why you didn’t keep me.”

  At a soft sound, he flattened against the wall and searched the darkness. A deer walked out of the trees and continued its trek without seeing him. Valent’s right hand itched. If he’d had his bow, the animal would be their meal through the winter. No matter, he had plenty of time to hunt. No other archer could boast to be as good as he.

  Yes, he was proud of his accomplishments, always winning competitions both standing and on horseback. Valent was not apologetic as he trained hard and often.

  After a long time, Valent made his way back inside. The cottage was quiet. Too quiet. Tavish usually snored like a boar while asleep. His chest constricted and he ran to the small cot where the old man slept.

  “Tavish!” Valent shook Tavish. Tavish didn’t respond; the old man’s body already turning cold.

  “No!” Valent shook him once again without result. “Do not leave me. I have no one.”

  Valent’s hoarse cry floated over the forest.

  Once again, he was alone.

  * * *

  The arrow whizzed past Valent’s leather wrist bracing, arching gracefully through the air. There was a collective hush as he hit the center of the target. He’d bested Donall McLeod and the new laird glared at him, not hiding the hatred he felt.

  Ignoring the man, Valent pulled a second arrow and aimed. Once again, he hit the target dead center, right beside the first. Applause and cheers erupted from the guardsmen as he helped the McLeods win over the visiting clan.

  The laird stalked away, not bothering to congratulate him. Valent didn’t pay him any mind. As he was now head and shoulders taller than Donall McLeod and the laird had stopped tormenting him years earlier, there was no need to worry about the petty annoyance.

  It didn’t bother Valent not to be invited to feast in the great hall later that day, nor did he care if the laird was angered over losing to him. If he was to be honest, there was little he cared about those days.

  Valent walked to stand beside the guards enjoying their revelry.

  “I knew you would do it,” cheered Cullen, a fellow archer, smiling widely. “Ye’re the best archer in the land.”

  “Congratulations.” They turned at the sound of the deep voice. Laird Munro came forward, his guards flanking him. It was comical to watch Laird McLeod rush to stand before Valent and push Valent aside to shake the visiting laird’s extended hand.

  “Your archers are impressive,” the Munro told Donall, his gaze moving past to rest on Valent. “I will ensure my men practice more before we meet again.”

  “They do well” was Donall’s reluctant response. “You are welcome to return, of course. Now come, let us celebrate. A feast has been prepared in the great hall.”

  The Munro nodded at Valent. “Please join me at my side.”

  Donall’s eyes bulged when he met Valent’s. “Do you not have to go see about Tavish?”

  Being Tavish had trained them as boys to hunt, the laird remembered the old man well.

  “Tavish died four weeks past.” Valent couldn’t stop the pang in his chest at mentioning the old man’s name.

  “Right, of course,” Donall replied, motioning for everyone to follow as he and the Munro made their way toward the keep.

  The meal was like nothing he’d ever had, flavorful and with so many choices, Valent was overwhelmed. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the Munro watching him closely. Finally the man leaned closer.

  “What is your surname? Are you a McLeod?”

  “No, Laird. I have no name. I was abandoned here as a child. A man named Tavish named me Valent, saying I’d be very brave one day.” He attempted to keep his tone neutral. Admitting to being a bastard with no name was not something he’d ever become accustomed to.

  “Is that so?” The laird studied him. “You remind me of someone I once met. He is a McKenzie.” The laird whispered the last name, being the McLeods and the McKenzies were near to warring over borderlines.

  “I would rather die than be one.” He could not keep the hatred from his voice. “I am sure I come from the south. Tavish says there is a small clan, the McRae, who are known for sending off young children with traveling men in hopes of finding them better homes.”

  “It is possible. Have you gone to seek them out?”

  “Nay. I couldn’t leave for long as Tavish remained ill for many years. Now that he is gone. I am considering it.”

  “One should know from where one comes.” The laird picked up his goblet and drank from it. “I wonder, however, at the familiarity of your face. If only I could remember who exactly it was.”

  Valent held his breath, but the Munro did not speak of it any longer. He wanted to ask a favor of the laird, but didn’t dare with Donall obviously straining to hear what they spoke of. If only the man could try harder to remember who he favored. “Thank you, Laird, for thinking of it. Maybe one day ye will remember.”

  He looked to other side of the high board where Donall sat, his mother on his left and his first on the right. Next to the laird’s mother was Ariana. A finer looking woman he’d yet to see. She’d grown to be breathtakingly beautiful with a heart-shaped face and dark amber curls that fell to the center of her back. She wore a thin-jeweled headband across her forehead and green jewels at her ears and throat. Her amber eyes scanned the room until resting on him.

  It was not in his nature to remain at the high board. That was not where he belonged. Excusing himself, Valent moved to sit with the other guards when the Munro’s head of guard came to see about his laird.

  Once seated, he could not force his gaze away from the beautiful Ariana. It would be easy to spend hours admiring her. It was said she recently returned after losing her husband to illness. She’d been in mourning for a long time. By the color of her forest green gown, she was no longer.

  The air left his lungs when she smiled at him. The corners of her lips lifted and he fought the urge to look behind him to learn to whom she really smiled. He was content to pretend it was him who she graced with such a gift and he bowed his head in return. When he lifted his head, she spoke to her mother, the soft smile lingering on her lips.

  Yearning for her touch was something he didn’t dare aspire to, yet most nights he pictured her face before falling asleep. When she’d married, he’d been part of the procession escorting her to her new husband. A McLeod of the south, who was much too pompous, was the groom.

  No one, in Valent’s opinion, deserved her. He’d begrudged her husband for years, barely able to keep from rushing after her to ensure she was well. Ariana McLeod would never be his. Of course, he knew that and had accepted it long ago. But no one could stop him from dreaming and admiring her from afar.

  “Valent.” He started and his friend, Cullen, laughed. “You look in a daze. I just saw Lora sneak off. Is she finally succumbing to you? If not, then I am considering following.”

  It was rumored she was Donall’s lover, but he’d never seen any indication of it. “Nay, I’ll go see what she’s doing, perhaps helping in the kitchens.” He pushed away from the table. Although he had no responsibility for Lora, he’d known her his entire life. Even after outg
rowing his infatuation, he cared for the woman.

  The hallway was dark and Valent stepped carefully to not make any noise to avoid anyone in the household catching him about. A moan sounded and he moved faster toward it.

  “Always ready for it, are you not, Lora?” Donall’s voice was hoarse. “You are a randy wench.”

  Valent stopped at hearing Lora’s reply. “Only for you, Laird. Yes. Yes!”

  She was bent forward over a table, her skirts thrown over her back. Donall took her from behind, ramming into her with force.

  Stumbling backward, Valent turned away. How to handle the situation? He contemplated making noise, but then there was a possibility he’d attract more not needed attention. He let out a huff and walked away. Not his business. When he turned the corner, Ariana crashed into him and gasped in surprise.

  “Ouch. You are crushing my foot.” She pushed at his chest and he moved back, too startled to speak. Ariana was more stunning up close than he could have imagined. With creamy skin and of delicate bone structure, she resembled a lovely field flower. She studied his face. “You are pale. Did you see a ghost?” On her tiptoes, she tried to look past him.

  “Lady McLeod, you should return to the great room at once.” He finally found his voice. “Please.”

  She pushed her hair behind her shoulder and he could feel his eyes round at the view down her bodice. His mouth became dry. Unaware of her effect on him, she tapped her foot. “Move aside, archer. I am going to the kitchen to speak to cook.”

  “Is there not another way you can go?”

  “What? Why are you keeping me from passing? Are you hiding something?” She placed her hand on his arm and attempted to pull him aside. Her fingers were warm and soft on his skin and he almost closed his eyes and prayed she’d never remove it.

  “A large rat.”

  “Oh.” She took a step back. “A rat?”

  “Aye.” He held his hands up about shoulder width apart. “Huge.”

  Ariana giggled. “That would be a cat if it was that big.”

  “What goes on here?” Donall McLeod approached from behind Valent and pinned him with a pointed glare. “How dare you stand here and speak to my sister.”

  “He was protecting me, it seems,” Ariana responded and shook her head at her brother. “Don’t chastise him. It was my fault for arguing over it.”

  “Protecting you how?” The laird looked from her to him. “Explain.”

  “He said there was a huge rat just down a bit and that I shouldn’t go past,” Ariana informed him and pushed past them both. “I am too exhausted to care about a rat the size of a cat. Goodnight, gentlemen.”

  After she left, Donall moved to stand in front of him and pulled out his sword, pushing the tip under Valent’s chin. “I’ve never liked you. No reason really.”

  The steel cut into his skin and he felt the trickle of blood trail down his neck. Valent didn’t move nor did he meet the laird’s gaze.

  “Whatever you expect to gain from stopping my sister is lost on me. As I would not have cared if she saw me with your precious Lora. You have wanted her all your life have you not? That is the only reason why I take her. I took the whore harder when you came around the corner. I needed you to see how much better I am than you.”

  Hatred at the man spread through his body. “She is not a whore.”

  The sword inched deeper into his chin and blood trickled freely down the front of his tunic. Finally Donall pulled it away and Valent held his hand to the cut to staunch the flow.

  Donall wiped the blade on the hem of Valent’s tunic and leaned forward, his lips to Valent’s ear. “Yes, she is.”

  Chapter Three

  Ariana knew exactly what the archer tried to protect her from seeing. When she turned the corner, a peasant girl stood in the hallway, her dress askew and her lips swollen.

  The young woman bobbed a quick bow and attempted to straighten her frock. “Milady, is there anything I can get for you?”

  Often, she wondered if the women her brothers joined with agreed to it or were forced. This lass didn’t seem upset. “No, I do not. You do not work inside the keep, but I’ve seen you. What is your name?”

  The girl flushed a bright red. “I am Lora, milady. I am the healer. Took over for my mother, Meagan.”

  “Yes, I remember now.” Although weary, she felt a need to find out more. “My brother, Donall, just walked past me. Are you acquainted with him?”

  Lora’s eyes widened. “Yes. What I mean to say, milady, is that he is kind to me.”

  The answer was sufficient to allow her to give the young woman leave. Ariana made her way to her chamber.

  “Milady,” Lily, her handmaid, said and rushed to her. “You look about to fall over. What happened?”

  “After months of mourning, being restricted to these chambers, it’s hard to get used to a long day of activity.” She sunk into a chair. “I should have rested during the day. I can barely keep my eyes open. Mother is cross that I left the dining hall too early, but I almost laid my head upon the table.”

  Lily removed Ariana’s shoes and stockings and then went behind her to pull the pins from her hair. “Ye will get plenty of rest tonight. There is not much to do on the morrow, is there?”

  A picture of the archer she’d spoken to in the hallway appeared forefront in her mind. “Can you find out when the archery competition will take place?” She kept her gaze on the flames in the fireplace. “I would like to see it.”

  “Archery?” Lily frowned down at her. “Are ye sure,” the maid asked, not taking her gaze from Ariana. “Ye’ve always said ye hate the games.”

  “I’m interested in archery, you know that. Plus, I want to know what happens this year.”

  “It’s too late, milady. The archery competition was today. The games are over.”

  “Oh.” She let out a sigh. “Who won?”

  Lily smiled and poked out her bony chest. “The McLeods, of course, milady. The archer, Valent, cannot be beaten. He is the best in the land.”

  The maid grabbed a brush and began to untangle Ariana’s hair, entertaining her with details of the archer’s feats. Seemed he had many an admirer, her maid amongst them.

  “Are you being courted by him?” Ariana asked feigning indifference. Since a young girl, she’d stood on the high balcony and watched the archers practice. Valent, the bastard, was always a sight to see. Since the day her brothers had beaten him, she’d kept a vigil for him. If she noticed her brothers goading him, she’d come up with a reason to get their attention. Once, when she was ten and five, she’d followed Valent on horseback to see where he lived.

  Although she could never hope for more than admiration, as he was only an archer and she the laird’s sister, she often daydreamed of how it would feel to be kissed by him. When she’d married, what she missed the most were the rare glimpses she caught of him.

  Valent.

  “Milady? Did you say something?” Lily watched her with a curious expression. “It sounded like you said the archer’s name.”

  “I did,” she admitted. “I was thinking of a time my brothers beat him rather badly.”

  Lily’s expression changed to serious and she cast her eyes down.

  At once, Ariana was aware something was amiss. “What is it? Why do you react this way over my comment?”

  “I overheard a plan to do so again because he beat the laird at the archery competition. Your brother is sending Fergus to beat Valent when he leaves tonight.”

  Fergus was a mountain of a man. The giant rarely spoke to anyone and angered easily. It was common to hear about him beating someone to near death merely for not moving out of his way fast enough.

  Ariana got to her feet. “We must warn him. I cannot believe my brother has not outgrown this vendetta or whatever it is he has against the archer.”

  “Everyone talks about it, milady. No one knows why he hates him so.” Lily let out a sad sigh. “Do not worry yourself. I will go find him.”

 
After Lily left, Ariana made her way to her mother’s chamber. Her mother slept just down the hall from her, having relinquished the larger set of rooms on the floor below to Donall once he became laird. The flickering candles in the hallway gave an eerie glow and a trickle of apprehension slid down her spine, like a premonition of something horrible on the horizon. She pulled her robes tighter to dispel the chill.

  “Mother?” Ariana pushed the door open and found her mother by the narrow window looking out. “Is something amiss? You seem sad.”

  Her mother shook her head and extended her hand. “Nay, I am just enjoying the quiet of the night. Come, Ariana, look at the moon. It is huge in the sky tonight.”

  Together they peered at the night sky. The huge moon hung low in the sky, illuminating the empty courtyard below. Ariana studied her mother’s peaceful profile. “We have an interesting bond of sorts now, Mother,” Ariana said. “Both widows.”

  “A sad one I never wished to have with you,” her mother replied. “Is there a reason you came, dear?” Her mother took her hand. “It is rare you come to my chamber at night.”

  If only she could confess to her mother her true feelings, how lonely she felt, at odds with the world. Wishing for a man who could never be hers. But her mother had always insisted on doing things perfectly, according to their standing within the clan. “Did you ever love anyone except my father?”

  They moved to chairs before the fireplace and her mother’s expression became wistful. “A young lass’ infatuation at most. Every girl dreams of a handsome man. I once considered myself to be wildly in love with my cousin, Malcolm. He was so much older than I and always had a stern expression. Yet he always had a kind word for me.”

  Ariana pictured the still attractive man. “Aye, I can understand that.”

  “Is there someone you’ve taken notice of?” Her mother smiled at her.

  With a shrug, she dismissed the question. “I notice several handsome men among the guards, but they are beneath me, of course.”

  “Very much so. Your brother would never allow a union with a guard. Do not even speak about it.” Her mother looked to the doorway as if expecting one of her sons to be lurking there. “What about the Munro’s eldest son. He is not married.”