Highland Storm by Crosby Tanya Anne

Author:Crosby, Tanya Anne [Crosby, Tanya Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Historical, Fantasy
Amazon: B01AKGPJB8
Goodreads: 56525815
Publisher: Oliver-Heber Books
Published: 2016-02-29T08:00:00+00:00

South had never been the dún Scoti’s favored direction to ride.

Trudging through thick drifts of snow, Keane’s mood remained sour. His men spoke not a word, but every last one had accompanied him, save for Murdoch. For all he knew, Murdoch might well be with Cameron.

Sullen bastard.

Despite Cameron’s obvious dissent, this was the last thing Keane would ever have expected from him. A smack to the jaw, perhaps, or a brawl in the snow, but to steal Lianae away? He realized the king’s men had been suspicious of her, and he could well comprehend their actions. If he’d been in a different position himself, Keane might have done precisely the same thing. But the one thing that spurred his ire more than aught else, and made his temper blacker than he could e’er recall, was the simple fact that Cameron had forsaken him. Some part of him understood why, but it galled him just the same.

Only briefly had he contemplated riding north. He didn’t believe Lianae would return that way. Deep in his gut, he sensed she was running—not searching for her missing brothers, despite what she’d claimed. There was no mistaking the bruises on her face and on her legs. She was running, or she would never have left so unprepared. And were she inclined to go back, she would have done so whilst they’d remained at Lilidbrugh, where she clearly knew the way home.

If there was a single bright note to the occasion, it was this: His men followed him without question, despite that they too must sense what was to come.

It wasn’t long before they reached their destination.

The gates of Keppenach opened at once. Keane hesitated but a moment before spurring his mount through the gates. The very instant they entered the courtyard, the gates were closed at once. And despite that his brother by law was laird of this keep, the king’s men at arms spilled into the courtyard, marching toward Keane and his company of men. He spied his sister’s countenance in a tower window, and he knew the situation was dire. Even from this distance, he could see the worry in her face.

They were surrounded.

“Stand down,” he commanded his men, for despite the livery they wore, not all were loyal to David. He knew that as well as anyone. Raising his hands in the air, Keane slid out of his saddle and his men all followed suit.

The laird of Keppenach appeared on the doorstep of the keep, arms crossed his expression foreboding. He was followed by David mac Mhaoil Chaluim.

“Keane dún Scoti!” the marshal announced, the very instant Keane’s feet touched the ground. “By command of David mac Maíl Choluim, Prince of the Cumbrians, Earl of Northhampton and Huntingdon, the Righ Art, the High King of the Scots and Chief of Chiefs, forebear of Kenneth MacAilpín, we must place you under arrest. Lay down your arms!”

Keane’s eyes met Jaime’s, and Jaime gave him a nod, as he plucked his sword from his scabbard, and tossed it down on the ground.

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