Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102424 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
He gave a nod and she disappeared into the house.
Arran walked toward the tree, keeping watch on the dog and cat, not so much the dog since she found herself a sunny spot, which probably wouldn’t last long, and stretched out. The cat, however, paced not far from him as if he waited to see what Arran would do. Once he settled under the tree, his back against the trunk, the cat wandered off.
He looked toward the cottage. The woman had lovely, soft features, not a beauty, but there was something about her face that enticed. Or perhaps it was that she smiled with ease or was it that she found reason to smile even after she’d been attacked and almost abducted?
He had once smiled often, but then there had been things to smile about, not anymore. The evil he had seen, and had been forced to do to survive, had robbed him of the person he had once been. A person who was now gone forever.
Arran had been surprised when the woman hadn’t shivered in fear or collapsed against him after she’d been attacked. And he had taken note of the way her soft green eyes had gone to both animals after it was over, assuring herself they hadn’t been harmed. She had the loveliest hair he’d ever seen. Various gold-colored strands ran through her lustrous brown hair making it appear as radiant as the sun and it hung in a braid down to the middle of her back. A few strands had fallen loose and he had almost reached out to tuck one or two behind her ear, but had stopped himself. It had been a gesture that would have come easily to him in the past, but had vanished with time. That it had returned had startled him. He wasn’t that foolish man anymore and he didn’t want to be.
He’d ask her more about these parts, eat and drink as he did, then be on his way.
He inhaled the quiet of the woods. Five years ago he wouldn’t have favored the quiet. He had enjoyed daily life with his family and clan, talking with his da and brother Royden, sharing an enjoyable poke with a willing woman, chastising his sister Raven for sneaking around and seeing and hearing things that weren’t proper for her ten and five years. And then there were the endless times spent on the practice field.
Now after having known nothing but never-ending battles for the last five years, the quiet of the woods was a welcoming treat. The gentle autumn breeze whispered across his face and enticed more than the touch of the limitless amount of women that had been made available to him during his years spent unwillingly with the mercenaries.
He’d had enough of senseless battles, couplings that served to relieve but meant nothing, forced camaraderie, and an emptiness that at times reached down to his soul. He didn’t know what had gotten him released from the mercenaries, since the only way to be free of them was to buy your way out or die, and of late he had felt death close to him. Or perhaps it had been that he wished for death rather than continue to live as he had.
When he’d been released, had walked away from the mercenary camp, it was as if he had breathed for the first time in five years. The only thing he had been told of his release was that a high price had been paid for it and that he should be grateful.
Who paid that price? He didn’t know, but he was grateful for it.
On his way home to his family and clan, he had discovered mixed news about his sister Raven. There were rumors that she had died shortly after the attack on their clan, while other tongues wagged that she still lived. Thankfully, Royden had sent word that he had reason to believe Raven was alive and he trusted his brother’s word. All other trails he had followed regarding his sister had proved fruitless. No matter how much he probed and dug he could find nothing to substantiate any of the rumors one way or another. And yet here he was following another one.
He had had little choice. He’d never forgive himself if he ignored the drunken whispers of a merchant who had insisted that Raven hid deep in the woods, a day’s walk from his home, the Clan MacKinnon. Could Raven have taken refuge there? Had she managed to survive? He had to find out. He wished the woman could be more accurate about when Raven might have been here. It might help establish a timeline and some sort of pattern that could help trace her. The various possibilities of what might have happened to her still continued to churn his gut. He had to find her. He had to.