The Highlander Who Stole Christmas - Eliza Knight Page 0,19

they were young, but he was the only one who’d continued to play. He told her about how he and Thea would combine their musical talents to entertain the clan, to which Sarah belted out in the most angelic voice he’d ever heard a ballad of winter and the spring that was to come.

When they were willing to brave the cold, they pulled on their cloaks on the pretense of checking on the horses, but in reality, it was to check the weather.

The crowd in the common area had slimmed now that the scones were gone. In the corner, an older man sung and played his lute. The brim of his hat pulled low, casting a shadow on his face. The two of them were very tempted to join him, but at that moment, Balthazar came barreling into the room, demanding the man change his Christmas tune to one of battle.

Rather than brave the kitchens and more of Cook’s ladle flinging, they went out the front door, the cold of winter slapping against their cheeks, along with a gust that brought with it dustings of snow from the ground. They slammed the door shut to keep it from entering the tavern, though it was likely too late.

The snow was easily above their ankles, but the lads had shoveled a path leading from the front door around the back of the tavern toward the stable.

“Still coming down,” Thane mused.

“Aye, but at least the sky is not only white with clouds. A bit of blue peeking through the white means we may yet get a reprieve.” The wind whipped against them, and Sarah tripped then clutched at his arm to keep from falling. And good thing, because right then, a massive icicle fell from the thatched roof, stabbing into the snow where she’d just been. Both of them leapt back, he as though to protect her and she because her life was flashing before her eyes.

“We’ll need a good two or three days reprieve if we’re to make it back in decent time. Might have to stop along the way at another tavern or two.”

“Additional adventures then.” She grinned up at him, excitement in the creases about her eyes. What had transpired between the two of them was almost enough to erase the reasons they’d got together to begin with. Almost.

“Aye, but also more possibility of your brothers finding us,” he reminded her grimly.

The light left her eyes then, and she seemed to remember that she’d been running from them suddenly. “Do ye think they’ve left yet?”

Thane nodded. “They’d no’ wait too long to come after ye. And our tracks may yet be visible in the snow, though with the way it fell through the night, I’m hoping most were covered. At any rate, they’ll have lost us by the time they get to the road, given all the others who’ve traversed.”

“But they would guess it was ye?” She glanced around nervously as if expecting to see her brothers leap out.

“Does your clan have any other enemies?” That was a silly question, and he knew it.

“Of course.”

“Then maybe we have a chance yet.” He offered that as hope.

Sarah shivered, and he took her hand, looping her arm in his and rubbing vigorously at the exposed skin of her fingers. They made their way to the stables and poked their heads inside when no lads were seen lurking about.

The stable was long and smoky, with the telltale sounds of horse snuffling and stomping.

“Destiny, we’ve come to greet ye,” Thane called out, and his horse stuck his head out from one of the stalls, letting out a hearty neigh.

They made their way down until they reached him, observing a clean stall, a bucket of water and another filled with hay.

“I see ye’re being properly spoiled.” Thane stroked his hand over his horse’s soft muzzle.

“Why did ye name him Destiny?” Sarah asked.

“I found him on the battlefield. Or rather, he found me.” He’d never told anyone this story before, but with Sarah, it came out easily. He would need to keep some of the details vague, so if anyone were listening in, they wouldn’t realize which side he fought on. He also kept to himself that Destiny’s previous master had been a dragoon, evident from the contents he found in the attached satchel, and the crest stamped into the saddle. Wasn’t it ironic that the horse of his enemy had saved his life?

“This is going to be intriguing,” Sarah said, wiggling her brows.

“The enemy was