Highland Warrior by McCollum, Heather (good summer reads .txt) 📕

“We will discuss ideas at the council meeting on the morrow,” Corey said.

Kára looked away toward the gathering that had grown, listening in as the tensions grew. “Aye, tonight is to honor and celebrate.”

One of the men raised his cup. “And drink!” Several yelled their agreement.

Osk walked off toward the table, Torben with him. Joshua stood. “As long as those watching the perimeter stay alert.” He stared out into the falling night. Their fires would stand out like beacons across the windswept hills.

Kára turned to Corey. “Let us finish the blessings, and you can head back to Hillside.”

Her tone did not reveal anything about how she was feeling about the discussion. She turned away and walked to her goat and sheep to lead them through.

“Blessings are my specialty,” Pastor John said, smiling. “I can help.” He walked next to Corey toward the fires.

Joshua stood, walking alone to the fires. He stared into one as it rose up, sending sparks flying in the air. The heat from it chased the cold from his bones. Back at home, people had thought him obsessed with fire, ready to light a bonfire whenever there was the slightest reason. But the truth was he sought to chase off the cold that settled through the Highlands as the sun dipped.

When one side felt roasted, he turned to look out at the night, letting the flames warm his backside. Too bad there was not a Horseman of Fire, because Joshua would volunteer for the job. Not only did it strike fear in many an enemy, it kept him warm.

Small groups walked away from the fires and village out into the Orkney night toward Hillside. The children stopped at the table, touching the plates before hurrying after their parents. They seemed to spread out, as if their smaller groupings could hide easier if Robert’s men came.

Geir traipsed over to him. “I need to set these out,” he said, holding up four little figures braided from the tall grasses that grew all over the isle. Crude renditions of two women with long woven hair and two men. He and Joshua walked to the long table where the woven figures of people and animals lay upon the plates, left by the children. There were also hearts and crosses, some plates heaped full of several creations. Geir placed one of his figures on each of the four plates Osk had set for Kára’s husband and her family.

Lord. There were so many plates, so many deaths. “Is there a spare plate for me to put out?”

Geir nodded and ran over to a small stack near the far end, coming back to place it next to their four. “Who is it for?”

“A boy. A bit older than ye. His name was Adam, and he liked to shoot arrows and tease his sister.” Joshua touched the clay disk, letting the memory of the young lad surface. It came easily, always ready to haunt him with eyes filled with trust. Lead us to victory, he’d said. And Joshua had been too prideful to say no.

Hissss. Joshua turned to see plumes of steam rise over the fires as seawater was dumped on them. The men kicked dirt over the damp coals and trudged away.

“I will take Broch and Fuil back to Hillside,” Geir said. He smiled. “I have two turnips.”

“Thank ye,” Joshua said, nodding to him. The lad had made great progress with winning Fuil over this week.

Kára stood at the fires, watching the drenched dark spots on the wind-whipped grasses. He walked over slowly to stand next to her, and the mostly deadened fires still gave off a bit of heat. She didn’t look up.

“My first Samhain as chief,” she said. “And it is the worst ever. The world is a dark place, and I do not know if it will ever be light again.”

Joshua did not speak, only touched her hand. Slowly their fingers intertwined, and she tipped her face up to his, her eyes searching. “We will go back to my den,” she said. It was a statement, but the inflection made it into a question. She was vulnerable. Sadness and regret and mourning made terrible bedfellows.

“Kára—”

“That is right,” she said, cutting him off. “Just Kára for the night. No chief or queen or mother or sister or daughter of dead parents. Just Kára.” She stepped into him so the wind could hardly find a passage between their bodies. “I have thought of death too much today, and sorrow has taken my strength. Tonight, I wish to be a woman first, and you only a man. Not the Horseman of War or someone who tries to persuade us to leave our isle.”

He opened his mouth to refute her statement, but she reached up, brushing a kiss against his lips. She pulled back. “Tomorrow will bring very hard choices and…” She looked up at him in the glow of the lantern she’d left at her feet. “I feel life will not be the same.” She searched his eyes as if trying to peer into his soul. “Love me tonight, Highlander.”

His free hand rose to slide along her cheek, pushing her hair back from where it danced there in the chilled night air. “Aye, Kára lass.”

She exhaled as if she’d held her breath. Could she possibly think he’d deny her? He pulled her up against him, his lips settling against hers. Lush and warm, her touch shot through him, igniting the simmering fire like a torch catching light on an arrow soaked in black pitch. She pulled away, her mouth open on a shallow breath.

Without a word, she tugged him, and he followed her into the night.

Chapter Thirteen

“Opportunities multiply as they are seized.”

Sun Tzu – The Art of War

Kára listened, her heart thumping harder, as Joshua stalked across her underground earthen den toward her.

Even without much illumination, his shadow in the muted light from the well opening was imposing. Her heart beat faster, her