The Dragon on Lochlan Hall (Highlander: The Legends Book 9) by Rebecca Ruger

Author:Rebecca Ruger [Ruger, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rebecca Ruger
Published: 2024-07-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Raina marveled over how unafraid she was in the wake of what had been a decidedly terrifying ordeal.

True, it was many hours later, but she’d rather expected to be still a quivering puddle of nerves.

But she was not.

Instead, she was possessed of what was likely an unhealthy dose of anger, maddened by having too many questions and scarcely any answers. Why had she been taken? Who was behind the plot? What might have become of her if not for Torsten’s rescue?

She reviewed again the faces of the men in the party, still quite sure she recognized no one.

She pressed her forefinger and middle finger to the skin between her brows, massaging and smoothing the flesh, quite sure she’d wind up like Torsten, with those permanent vertical marks if she didn’t do something to counteract her persistently knitted brow.

Considering Geoffrey’s role in the scheme, Raina was forced to imagine the plot was conceived by some of Lochlan’s own. But why? They’d hated and feared her for years; why now? Did they hold her responsible for the de Grahams having overtaken Lochlan?

And why use the ruse of Torsten having been injured and calling for her?

She was compelled to examine that as well, her inexplicable response at that time, upon being told that Torsten was injured, gravely she’d assumed since she’d been told he’d asked for her. Why had her heart skipped a beat in fear? Why had she followed the lad without question, simply to reach Torsten in time, all the while fearing she might not?

Maddening, all of it, the confusion, the lack of answers.

Tucked into her bed, her hair yet damp upon the pillows, she sighed with frustration, knowing sleep might well be impossible.

Mayhap though, she had at least one answer, though she resisted it mightily.

But...did she care for Torsten?

But how could she? What had he done to earn even the smallest scrap of interest—or...affection?—from her?

He’d let it be known this very day that he viewed her as the enemy, had effectively said he wanted nothing to do with her!

Having not once harmed her, despite the origins of their association, did not a cause for affection make!

Could it be that her own response to his oft-probing and sometimes scorching gaze influenced her emotions? But no, the way his fierce eyes sometimes curled her toes and ignited a blush was surely not a cause for fondness.

And his kiss, though delicious in a dangerously fascinating way, could not rouse warmth and want, certainly not of the heart.

No, she had no affection for Torsten, she assured herself. In all probability, she’d have reacted in a similar manner no matter what name Geoffrey had used. He might have said that Nell or Rory—or any other person—lay broken and dying, asking for her, and she’d have sprinted to the scene all the same, propelled by human decency and a sense of duty.

She knew now—had been heartbreaking reminded!— that Torsten viewed her not as his wife, but still as his enemy, that daughter of the man who had betrayed Scotland, an enemy for taking a side that was not his own.

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