Cherished by A Highlander (Highland Revenge Trilogy #1) Read Online Donna Fletcher

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Historical Fiction, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Highland Revenge Trilogy Series by Donna Fletcher
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Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 92771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
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People were worried and rightfully so. Lord Torrance would not accept defeat easily and if he won, it would only quench his thirst for power and wealth for so long. He would want more. She wondered if that was what disturbed Quint. He seemed unsettled and distracted since Dru left, staring into the woods as if he expected someone. Or was he impatient for the brother of the two men he killed to arrive so he could be done with it and be on his way? She could not blame him. His mission had been delayed long enough. She didn’t want to think of him leaving, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be long now.

He stood staring into the woods and her heart ached sensing he was anxious to go while she was anxious for him to stay.

“Go if you must,” she said, though she wished he wouldn’t, but she would not have him there if he truly wanted to leave.

He turned to look at her, a questioning scrunch to his brow. “Not until I make sure you are safe.”

He approached her and she thought of walking away from him, to put distance between them and protect her heart, already beginning to feel the pain of his departure. But she couldn’t. She wanted his arms around her as much as possible before he would hug her no more.

She fell into his embrace as she always did and cherished the way his strong arms wrapped around her tucking her close, holding her as if he never wanted to let her go.

He loved holding her in his arms, feeling her pressed against him, the sweet scent of her hair drifting up to tickle his nose. When he arrived here, he wanted only healing from her. Now that he had gotten that, he wanted so much more. He was about to reassure her when he heard a distant tinkle, a warning from one of the talismans he’d hung in the trees.

He pulled her along with him as he went for his sword near the cottage door. He was about to open the door when he thought differently.

“A talisman alert, someone approaches,” he said.

Fright rippled through her. Those who came for healing knew well to call out if they set a talisman chiming, letting her know they approached.

“I want you to go into the woods and wait. If for some reason this doesn’t end well, you leave and seek safety, understood?”

Shade nodded, the lump in her throat and roiling stomach not allowing her to speak.

He kissed her quickly. “Worry not. I never lose.”

She nodded again, not saying what came to mind. There is always a first time.

Quint didn’t watch where Shade went. He hoped whoever was there would believe her to be in the cottage. He went to the bench that sat braced against the cottage wall and sat, taking a cloth to his sword, appearing as if he was cleaning it, and waited.

Shade ducked down behind a pine tree where she had a view of the area in front of her cottage through the branches and waited just as Quint did.

A man thick in body but not having much height stepped out of the woods and Quint stood, his sword in hand and approached the man, showing him not an ounce of fear.

The man stopped where he stood and called out, “I am Cyril, brother of Rand and Brant, two fools. I came here to tell you that I have no cause to fight you, not now, not ever. Unlike my brothers, I don’t wish to die.” He backed away as Quint continued to approach him.

“Stay your ground,” Quint urged, keeping his voice low. “I wish only to talk with you.”

Shade wished that Quint hadn’t lowered his voice. She wanted to hear what he was saying to the man.

“You will keep your voice low when you speak with me,” Quint said.

“Aye,” Cyril said with a nod, sweat breaking out along his brow.

“You intended to kill me.”

“That was before I found out who you are,” Cyril said, a nervous tremor in his voice. “I want no trouble with you. I didn’t realize what Rand had gotten himself into and how instead of waiting for me, Brant’s impatience cost him his life. I came here to tell you face to face that I harbor no ill will toward you and I intend to return home and forget this dreadful turn of events.”

“How is it that I should trust your word that you will walk away and never bother me, or the healer, not ever?”

“I have no fight with the healer or you,” Cyril said, wiping the sweat that dripped down his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “I wish only to return home, a distance from here, and pray that I make it since Lord Torrance is scooping up any man who he sees fit to fight for him. My brothers made their choice and now I make mine. I take my leave, never to see you again.”


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