“Where are you headed?” he asked when he couldn’t stand it any longer.
“North.”
He was perturbed by her reply, but he wasn’t surprised by it. “Any place in particular?”
“Aye.”
Lachlan’s patience was quickly running out. “If you doona want to tell me, that’s fine.”
“I don’t.” Then she sighed. “Actually, I don’t exactly know where it’s at.”
“What’s the name of the place? Perhaps I can tell you.”
“Trust me when I say that whatever is going on with your clan is safer than where I’m headed.”
He glanced back at her. “And the men of your family allowed you to travel alone?”
“I’m a Hunter,” she stated with a flash of anger in her eyes. “I don’t need anyone, much less a man, telling me what I can and cannot do.”
Lachlan was glad that his sister wasn’t here to hear that. Men were made for battle. To ensure the safety of their families. Women were the nurturers, the ones who bore the children and kept the home in order. Lachlan didn’t set the rules. He just abided by them.
“Besides,” Synne continued, “there isn’t anyone left to say anything.”
He looked at her, but she refused to meet his gaze. Then he saw it, the grief she valiantly tried to keep hidden. She did a good job of it. He might never have noticed had she not said those last words, but now that she had, he was able to see what she fought to keep from consuming her.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She briefly met his gaze. “So will be the ones who took from me.”
3
It was a mistake having the Scotsman tag along. Synne knew it, but she also knew that he would follow her if she didn’t allow him to accompany her. This way, she could keep her eyes on him.
Yet she had to admit she liked having someone with her. If only Lachlan would stop asking questions. She couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know. But the one good thing about the conversation was that it pulled her from her own mind and the constant thoughts circling there.
“I once tracked someone,” Lachlan said. “Revenge is no’ what you think it is.”
“It’s exactly what I think it is.”
He made a sound at the back of his throat. “You’ve never sought vengeance before, have you?”
“You ask that because I’m a woman?”
“No need to get testy,” he said and met her gaze. “I’m merely pointing out that what is driving you to seek revenge now, willna disappear once you’ve gotten what you want.”
She swallowed and looked ahead. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course, it does. Unless…you doona believe you’ll live to worry about it.”
Synne didn’t bother to reply. She didn’t owe him an explanation. He was a means to an end, and that was all.
“Och, lass,” he murmured. “You’ve too much of your life ahead of you to throw it away like that.”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t say that if I was a man.”
“I would caution anyone with the same words, be they male or female.”
Synne cut her eyes to him. “I saw the way you looked at my weapon. There was surprise there. You don’t know what to do with a woman who can protect herself.”
“Aye, I was shocked,” he admitted with a wry twist of his lips. “It isna done here.”
“It is where I’m from. Anyone who wanted to learn weapons was allowed to train.”
“It sounds like an amazing place. Were there many females?”
“Many,” Synne replied softly, thinking of the others.
Lachlan was quiet for a moment. “Doona bury your grief. It will only prolong your healing.”
She didn’t ask him how he knew. Synne thought she covered her grief well, but apparently, not well enough. “I’ll grieve later.”
“You’re going after someone with anger and loss in your heart, lass. That is a recipe for disaster. You need to have a clear head if you’re to win.”
“The only thing I need is to reach my destination.”
Lachlan pulled his horse to a stop and gazed to the right with narrowed eyes. Synne halted her mare and looked around the forest for potential enemies. There were ample spots for someone to lay in wait or to spring a trap. Maybe it was a good thing the Scotsman was with her, after all.
A few moments later, Lachlan’s horse began walking again. Synne looked to the right to see if she could tell what had caught the man’s attention, but she saw nothing. Her gaze returned to him and focused on his broad shoulders. Thick sinew and hard muscle was evident beneath the tartan sash, vest, shirt, and breeches he wore.
There was an intensity about him that she recognized since she had been around warriors for most of her life. But with Lachlan, it was different. As if it were ramped up another notch. She hadn’t seen him in battle yet, but she imagined that he was a sight to behold.
In the back of her mind, she wished she could see him fight. As soon as the thought came, she regretted it. The last thing she wanted was to run into witches while looking for the Varroki. It was most likely inevitable that the Coven would find her, but Synne shouldn’t be hoping for it just to see Lachlan move.
Her eyes drifted lower to his butt. His hips were narrow, his backside firm. She shouldn’t be noticing things like that—not when she was on a mission. But how could she ignore the fact that Lachlan was a gorgeous specimen of a man? She’d never tell him that, but it was difficult to look anywhere but at him.
“You doona know me,” Lachlan said. “And you have no reason to listen, but I hope you’ll heed this advice. Your head and your heart are full of vengeance. It will blind you to things you wouldna otherwise ignore. You shouldna be traveling alone. You need someone to watch your back.”
“There isn’t anyone.”
He sighed loudly. “Then you are riding to your death.”
“If you were in a situation where you had no choice but to hunt someone, or death would come to many, many more, would you ignore the call simply because you’re grieving or there wasn’t someone to go with you?” she asked, turning her head to him.
Lachlan pressed his lips together for a heartbeat. “Nay.”
“Neither will I.”
He seemed to have nothing to say after that. The silence that followed put Synne back into her head, and it wasn’t a place she liked very much. The little time she had interacted with Lachlan had relieved her somehow.
Turning introspective made everything worse. She thought of the worst that could happen and found herself focusing on them and imagining all the horrible things Sybbyl would do to others—as well as thinking about what her death would look like. Her mind didn’t allow her to dwell on anything positive. It was all negative, and it brought her already low state of being into a depression that was quickly spiraling out of control.
The more she tried not to think those nasty thoughts, the more they filled her mind until she wanted to scream. Synne squeezed her eyes closed and fought against the demons of doubt that rose up.
“Talk,” she bit out. When Lachlan didn’t respond, she opened her eyes to find him staring at her. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Please, talk.”