Chapter 20
Honoria had never felt so happy to see MacCallan Castle. In fact, she was so overwhelmed by relief at that moment, she wondered if she’d ever want to leave its protection again. It seemed impossible to fathom that mere hours had passed since villainous brigands abducted her.
She settled more firmly into Lash’s embrace, drawing in his warmth, exhaustion tugging at her eyelids.
Hugh hadn’t made a single protest when Lash had lifted her onto Balthazar and mounted behind her, but a small smile had danced on his lips. Honoria had been too tired to ask what that was about.
Before they left, the men had rounded up Danior and his band, securing them in the cottage while they waited for the authorities. The footmen and groomsmen had all stayed behind to ensure none of them escaped, with the exception of Mr. Ross, who had returned with them.
The hour home was somber, everyone—especially Lash—deeply entrenched in their own thoughts. Honoria did not blame him. That his entire life was based on a lie must have come as quite a shock.
Selfish panic fluttered up against her belly.
Lash would leave now that he discovered his parents were alive and together somewhere. And there was the matter of finding his sister, too. It was understandable, inevitable.
Unless . . . Unless she could convince him to stay and conduct his search from here—at her side, if not, demand he let her accompany him so that she may aid in his search for his family—athisside.
“Well, this is most disturbing,” Hugh’s petulant voice broke the spell of silence.
“What?” Lash’s chest rumbled at her back.
“Our brothers are home.”
Honoria shot upright, Lash’s arms tightening around her.
As if to emphasize Hugh’s observation, eight thunderous highlanders, arms folded and legs apart, stood at the castle entrance to greet their party.
“What the hell is going on here?” Adair’s low voice was only slightly more alarming than his flushed cheeks. His eyes raked over Lash, noted how his arms enfolded Honoria. His jaw clenched. Hard. “Who the hell is that?”
Hugh sighed. “Brothers, meet Lash Ruthven.”
All eyes turned to Lash.
Honoria held her breath. She knew what her brothers saw—a man with the makings of a beast. Lash was big, foreign, his black hair disheveled and the scent of horse and sweat clung to him. And she was cocooned in his arms.
“This is the injured man you found?” Boyd asked.
Hugh nodded. “Honoria’s healing saved him.”
“You lodged this stranger in our home?” Callum growled, a scowl darkening his brow.
“Should I have readied the barn?” Hugh retorted, appearing completely unfazed by their anger. “Why would I do that when your bed was available?”
Callum’s face mottled red at that.
“Someone better tell us what the hell is going on,” Lachlan snapped, his gaze narrowing on Honoria. “You are obviously at the center of all this.”
“Aye,” Adair growled. “Why are you riding with this man and not on your horse?”
Behind her, Lash shifted, his hold around her waist never loosening.
“I was kidnapped by a band of brigands, if you must know,” Honoria announced. Her brothers were going to be difficult no matter how they explained the situation.
“And we were the rescue party,” Isla chirped, sitting proudly astride her horse.
“What?” Several voices exploded at once.
When they quieted, Adair spoke. “Let me see if I have this right.” Glowing eyes turned to Hugh. “We leave you in charge for a fortnight and return to find you harbored a stranger in our home, let Honoria get abducted, and took Isla on the rescue.”
