The Highlander's Touch

THT | 5

"Canna wait for a proper meal," one of his men said from behind him.

"Canna wait to get off this horse," another grunted..

"Canna wait for my bonny wife to warm my bed!"

There were several grunts for that one, and even Kane joined in--except it wasn't because he was looking forward to it. Nay, it was the exact opposite. He did not want to return to his castle and be faced with two lasses pining for his hand. He did not want to go back and be faced with the fact that one of those lasses, a reportedly kind, gentle girl, would be sent to her death because of him.

He reached for the skin, putting it to his lips. The whisky was tasteless by now.

Kane didn't know what to do. Either way, the lass was going to die. Should he put off the courting and let her have more time to live, find a way for her to get out of her marriage to Hans Grayham?

If it were any other man, he wouldn't care. It was common for a lass to be sent off to marriage with a man she didn't know. It was the way of things. It had happened to his sister, and it had happened to the two girls at his estate.

But this was different.

He'd learned his mistake with Annalise. Subjecting another innocent to that...it was making him go insane. Several times they had to stop for more whiskey and while Kane wasn't a drunk, he thought the spirits would help alleviate some of the guilt.

They hadn't.

They'd done the exact opposite.

"My wife willna be so happy," he overheard one of his men say. His eyes narrowed on the space ahead of him. "Our bairn has probably kept her up night and day."

"Aye," one of the men chuckled knowingly. "I feel yer pain. When we went to war with the MacDonalls, my woman was left alone. I had the cold shoulder for a fortnight..." Kane didn't pay attention to the rest of their conversation because an idea so brilliant, so amazing and simple, came to him. It might be the whiskey thinking for him, but he didn't care. His idea was perfect.

Neither of the lasses would take his hand.

Nay, he'd make them both hate him so much they couldn't bear the sight of him. He'd be every terrible thing he was accused of. The king's contract hadn't said a single thing about his betrothal being broken. All it had said was for her to accept the betrothal, and the dowry would be his.

Triumph surged through him, and he took another swig of the whiskey, this time in celebration. It was a flawless plan. The lasses had no clue what kind of man he was--no one except his clan did. He was the merciless Lion to these girls, and it was that way he would stay.

"Laird Shaw," his squire said from beside him. Kane looked down at him. "You're looking in higher spirits."

"Aye," he said, grinning, taking another swig of whiskey.

"Are you excited to meet your betrothal?" No one except Connor knew that there were two lasses he had to choose from--well, none, now. His grin only widened.

"Aye."

His squire gave him an uneasy look. "Well, that is good. Might I ask what put you into higher spirits? The whole ride, you've been...brooding."

Kane held up the skin. "The spirits put me in higher spirits, Connor. All of my problems have been solved--though I think I'll be needin' yer assistance in a matter."

Connor eyed him suspiciously but nodded. The lad was only seven and ten, but he was showing promise as a knight. His father had been a good friend of Kane's, so even though the lad was English, Connor was training under his hand.