Highland Honor by Christine Young

Author:Christine Young
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Highland
Published: 2006-08-03T20:51:39+00:00

"To The MacPherson castle," he said.

Chapter Twelve

Hawke reached out to touch his sleeping wife, then withdrew his hand. She slept soundly and peacefully. He needed to search the lodge without her knowledge.

He rose, wishing for more time with Callie, yearning to pull her close and make love to her one more time. Instead, he turned and slipped into his clothes.

Pausing for a moment, he tried to delve into his subconscious for any memories of his childhood which might lead him to something useful. Still, he could think of nothing. He had spent what seemed like hours lying in bed watching Callie sleep, trying to remember the past and wanting his wife in his arms.

She moaned softly and turned in the bed, the covers slipping to reveal a creamy white shoulder and the rounded curve of one breast. Emotions he'd never felt before, a strange tenderness, a need to protect, shelter and love this woman, swept within.

Yet he turned his back on Callie and walked slowly through the lodge, studying every inch of every room. He touched the walls and felt for hidden seams or loose boards, but he found nothing.

He paused in thought then spoke out loud. "The best place to hide something is where the object is looked at every day." He repeated the words that had suddenly popped into his head. They were words his father had told him many times.

His gaze swept the room, but he saw nothing he could use. What was it he looked for? He walked outside. The early morning sun shone down upon the ground and a soft dew covered the grass and plants. The stables loomed in front of him.

Jarrod and his wife would be inside in his room near the back of the stables.

Jarrod had been with his father when all this happened.

In a matter of minutes, Hawke stood inside the stable, searching for the unknown.

Perhaps he was a fool on a fool's mission. Perhaps this thought of hidden information was all in his imagination. His father was a private man, and yet he recorded most everything he saw and heard. But he wasn't a man to take stock in gossip or hearsay. If he penned anything, his father would have been sure the words he wrote were true.

Jarrod was tossing fresh hay into the stables from the loft above. His back was turned to the front of the stables and he sang while he worked. Several years ago, Jarrod's dark black hair had begun to turn gray. He was still a strong, vibrant man, but he'd asked Hawke if he could tend the stables at the hunting lodge. Hawke

understood and let him go, because he did need someone trustworthy to stay here. He'd sent Jarrod's wife Elizabeth and two other trusted friends along with him.

"Jarrod," Hawke called out, not wishing to startle him.

The older man turned, a wide grin greeting Hawke. "I wondered when ye'd be down this morning. How is everything--your new bride?" Jarrod winked, a grin creasing his weathered features.

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