The Ghost by Greyson, Maeve (best motivational books to read .txt) 📕

wouldn’t pick up the gift until Morag left. It seemed to make folks nervous if she touched their offerings in front of them. “It looks most fine. I shall wear it with pride.” At least, she could give the old woman those words so she could brag that the Lady of the Wood had complimented her handiwork.

Morag bobbed her bent head and gifted Brenna with a toothless smile. She seemed to stand a little straighter as she shuffled away.

Keigan appeared from behind the hut with a large gray and black striped cat trotting along beside him. “Auntie! Síth’s back.”

The child had a way with animals. Brenna had seen nothing like it. Only Keigan could befriend a wildcat of the Highlands.

Brenna waved him over. “Add the water to the pot, then I suppose ye might see if yer friend would like a taste of the fish left from breakfast.”

The cat flattened its ears, easing forward in a low crouch with a growl rumbling at the back of its throat. With the end of its tail twitching, it locked its golden eyes on the spot through the bushes the old woman from the village had just taken.

“To yer bow, Keigan. Keep to the arrow slit in the door, mind ye. Watch me close to know when to shoot, aye?”

“Aye, Auntie!” The boy disappeared into the hut and closed the door behind him.

They had learned early on that the local wildlife’s wisdom far surpassed their own. They watched the animals and followed their signals.

Brenna drew her dagger and throwing stones again. Rarely did over one soul from town visit in a sennight, much less twice in the same day. There had been no calls for help or to come running, so she doubted anyone had been injured or needed immediate help. Whatever or whoever had set the cat into battle readiness didn’t belong here. The footfalls sounded heavy and purposeful. Male, if she guessed right. She hefted both weapons and resettled her stance.

A man as large as a Highland mountain loomed into view, his broad-shouldered massiveness made even more daunting by his black clothing. But it wasn’t his muscular dominance that robbed her of the ability to breathe. It was his silvery-white mane that shot a sudden coldness through her. That hair wasn’t the shade of old age but a shining crown he had borne since birth. The very same color as her Keigan’s. And those eyes of his. The clearest blue-gray flecked with white—like storm clouds splintered by lightning. Just like her sister had described so many times.

“A step closer, and ye die.”

The red-haired youth beside him halted, then inched back a step. “I think she means it. Ye go on ahead.”

After a scowling cut of his eyes at the boy, he returned his attention to her. Lifting both hands with fingers outspread, he took another step closer. “We willna harm ye. I am in search of a child, and the villagers said ye were the finest healer—and mayhap even a seer who could help me find him.”

Her first instinct was to lie so he would go away, but the rage she had nursed for years wouldn’t allow it. Besides, Keigan needed to learn firsthand what an uncaring bastard his father was, so he wouldn’t be tempted to search him out someday. She kept her weapons handy, itching to kill the heartless cur just like he had killed poor Bree. The only thing that stayed her hand was that his death would be so much easier than the one he had foisted upon her sister. “Ye’re either the bravest or the most foolish man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. The child needed ye years ago at his birth. My sister needed ye even before that. I canna believe ye’ve the gall to cast yer shadow across our threshold now.” Years of angry suffering unleashed the fury within her. “She trusted ye. Cherished yer friendship. And how did ye repay her? By deserting her when she needed ye most.”

His hands lowered to his sides while his icy stare stayed locked on her. “I know,” he admitted quietly. “I wish I had never left Nithdane Keep and abandoned Lady Bree. But ye must believe me when I say, I only just found out about…everything. I never received yer letter until this month. Just weeks ago. I swear it.”

He must think her an addlepated fool who would believe anything. She refused to grace such a ridiculous lie with a response. “Ye didna come when we needed ye. We have no need of ye now. Shake the dust of this place from yer boots and never return, aye?”

“I didna come all this way to turn tail and run when faced with yer hatred.” He stepped into the clearing; his broad chest thrust out. “Ye can try to kill me but know this—I willna go easily.”

Her clenched jaws tightened even more when the door behind her creaked. Keigan had always been the curious sort. What child of his age wasn’t? “Come stand at my side, Keigan. Ye may meet yer father and then bid him farewell because he will be leaving.”

“Should I bring my bow and daggers?” the boy asked.

“Aye, my precious one. Come out armed.” She wished her loathing could turn the man in front of her into a pile of ash. But then again, she wouldn’t wish him such a simple end. Nay. He needed to suffer as he had caused all of them to suffer.

The warrior’s stance, dark and proud, softened when Keigan appeared at her side. His muscular throat flexed with a hard swallow, and he worked his mouth as though fighting to draw in air.

Brenna decided to yank the fool from his stupor so they might be rid of him sooner. With a dismissive flip of one hand, she rested the other on her nephew’s shoulder. “I present to ye yer father, Keigan. The man who deserted yer mother and left her to suffer the wrath of a cruel