ordeal, and from what Ciaran had overheard, they had. He now had the answer to where the black smoke came from. According to the MacLeans, these two had survived a ship crash. This was a strange new development.
Careful not to make any sound, Ciaran reached up and rubbed at his right temple. He was getting a headache.
Trying to learn the origin of the black smoke and get away from the storm as quickly as possible, they’d decided to cut through the pass. But before they’d gotten to the narrow path that had been carved by a river centuries ago, they’d heard voices and detoured to the cliffs. Fortunately, the storm had died down, so lightning was no longer a danger, but here he was on a cliff on his stomach once again, after spending most of the day thusly. He’d found the perfect spot to hide—between two giant boulders with only a sliver of space between them. He was well hidden from the men below, but he was close enough that any sound on his part could give him away, and given the amount of sand and pebbles, it was a real possibility the longer he stayed. He’d had about all he could stand of cliffs today, but once again he was learning something new. Something that he sensed could very well impact his future and that of his clan.
A soft nudge landed against his ribs, and he glanced over to find Angus glowering beside him. Angus jerked his head to gesture behind them, then very slowly crawled backward on his elbows, placing his limbs very carefully, trying not to make big moves or noise.
Ciaran debated shaking his head, but on his other side, Ram was doing the same thing, moving cautiously backward. No doubt they were both ready to get home. It had been a long day, but Ciaran was loath to leave. It was the oddest thing, but he felt as though he were meant to be here. Which was ridiculous because he couldn’t do anything else, especially not with only him, Ram, Greer, and Angus. He already suspected that the MacLeans were involved with the outsiders building on their land, even if he hadn’t learned who the outsiders were or how and why the MacLeans were allied with them. These new outsiders… they were different.
Turning his attention back to the captives, Ciaran inched his way backward.
The redhead lifted his head without really looking at anything.
Ciaran froze, his breath caught in his chest, and his stomach clenched. His fingers tingled as if begging to touch, yearning to feel. With great certainty, he realized this was why he was supposed to be here. What made him hesitate about leaving. It was as if destiny were shouting his name alongside the echo of the whistling wind. Being struck by lightning probably felt similar and definitely less scary. Ciaran squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to rid his body of the strange sensations rushing through him. He breathed in and out of his nose as slow as he could, but it didn’t seem to help clear his head. He blinked his eyes back open and peeked around the large rock in front of him.
The man was absolutely gorgeous. His face was aglow in the firelight, highlighting high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Ciaran couldn’t tell what color his eyes were. Probably blue. A deep placid blue, the color of Loch Sterling in the moonlight. His expression was blank and pensive, as though he were concentrating on something and lost inside his own head. If not for the circumstances, Ciaran would have said he looked as though he were daydreaming.
A stray lock of red caught the breeze and blew across his eyes. When he lifted his bound hands to bat it away, he turned his head, revealing a dark bruise under his right eye and crusted blood at the corner of his mouth.
Rage pulsed through Ciaran, making his hands shake. The MacLeans were monsters. Red was half their size. Ciaran fancied he could actually feel the heat of his sword in its scabbard, lying across his back, begging to be introduced to the MacLeans. His mind tumbled with options on how to defeat the MacLeans, but then something touched his calf, pulling him from his fantasy.
Finally tearing his gaze away from Red, Ciaran glanced back.
Ram lay on his stomach, glaring at him with impatience.
Ciaran slinked backward on his elbows and knees until he was far enough away from the edge