Dangerous Highlander: A Dark Sword Novel by Dangerous Highlander

Author:Dangerous Highlander
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780312381226
Publisher: Minotaur

Lucan was drenched in sweat from the exertion of pounding on the steel and the heat from the forge. The shape of the dagger had come along nicely. He lifted the iron in the tongs and inspected it. He had curved the blade, giving it a vicious point at the end of the weapon. The weight was good and light enough for Cara to wield.

He set down the tongs and reached for his tunic he had taken off hours earlier. He wiped the sweat from his face with his tunic and extinguished the forge. When he walked out of the blacksmith shop it was to find it well past midday. Which explained his hunger.

Lucan walked around the bailey to the kitchen and the well-worn path that would take him to the sea. He was surprised to find the gate that led out of the castle wall open but didn’t think much of it, since Quinn often went down to the water.

As Lucan made his way down the path, memories arose of him chasing after his father as they ran from the castle before Lucan’s mother caught them. The sky had been bright blue that day with occasional white, fluffy clouds that floated past. He and his father had spent the afternoon fishing and lying in the sand. It had been a glorious day.

When Lucan’s feet hit the sand he stopped and stared at the rock his father had stood on when he cast the net into the sea. He had seemed a giant then, tall and imposing.

With a shake of his head Lucan pushed aside those memories and removed his boots and trousers before he ran and dove into the sea. The cool water was wonderful against his heated flesh that had stood next to the forge for too long. Yet his muscles felt good and his control was back in place. He would be able to face Cara now and keep a tight rein on his desire.

Once he was cooled, Lucan moved to one of the boulders. He lay back, his skin touching the warm rock. A thread of smoke drifted through the sky from the village where the MacClures had burned the bodies of their clan. Lucan threw an arm over his eyes against the bright sun. He couldn’t stay long, but he would take what little time he had to himself.

After half an hour, Lucan rose and pulled on his clothes. When he walked into the castle he found Quinn had butchered the deer and was roasting some meat in one of the ovens. Lucan’s mouth watered as his stomach growled.

He grabbed an oatcake and strode into the great hall where, predictably, Fallon lay on the bench, his wine bottle in his hand.

“Where have you been?” Fallon asked through half-open lids.

Lucan slid onto the other bench. “Working.”

“On what?”

“Cara needed a dagger that would fit her hand.”

Fallon raised himself on his elbows and peered at Lucan over the table. “Is that so?”

“Aye.”

After a moment Fallon sat up and rested his forearms on the table.

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