Now that he was home, the years he’d been away seemed like only yesterday. But they weren’t and nothing was the same. His sister wasn’t a young lass on the verge of womanhood. She was grown and had been of marriage age for a few years now. Had she found a man of her choosing and wed?
“Penn seems nice enough and he’s good to Emily and she’s madly in love with him.” Bethany sighed and shook her head again. “I can’t help but wonder and worry that Penn was ordered to stay here.”
“And keep this leader of his informed,” Royden said the obvious.
“It’s a thought I can’t shake, but look at me going on like this when you’re probably hungry and could do with a washing.”
“You’re right about both,” Royden said. “Once that’s done, I’ll walk through the village and talk with everyone so they know I’m home.”
He gave one last look over the quiet village and spotted a lone rider not far off.
“That would be Lady Learmonth. Once a week she visits here to tend the ailing and give what comfort she can to those in need,” Bethany said.
“The old chieftain wed? And when did Learmonth have a title bestowed on him?” Royden asked.
“Aye, he has a wife and not long after the attack a title. You nee—”
“Get food and drink ready for our guest. I have much to ask Lady Learmonth,” Royden said and turned away from Bethany, failing to see the worry in her eyes and the hesitancy in her steps as she did as she was told.
The rider came to a stop not far from him and before he could offer her assistance, she dismounted on her own and with graceful skill. Her hood concealed a good portion of her face as she approached him.
The woman stopped suddenly, hesitant to approach him, and he couldn’t blame her.
He was far from presentable, his garments soiled from his arduous journey and worn from the years and elements. He also needed a good soaking to wash away not only the grime and odor, but who he had become these past five years. A man who had lost all sense of who he had once been. A man he’d become far too familiar with over time. A man who killed far too easily and a man who had laid with women he cared nothing about. A man who had lost all honor.
He reached back to his past, recalling manners he hadn’t needed in years. “Please forgive my unpresentable state, Lady Learmonth. I have only returned home after a long journey and I am not as presentable as I should be.”
When she failed to respond, he wondered if she was too offended by his appearance to even speak to him. Or was it the shock in seeing that he had lost a hand that kept her silent? Or hadn’t he sounded sincere enough? He had had no call to be mannerly while captive and it felt foreign for him to do so now.
Annoyed she refused to speak to him, he held his temper that was rising and tried to engage her again. “You have been most kind to my clan in my absence.”
Still she gave no response and she didn’t even move. She appeared frozen in place. What did she think he was going to do, attack her? Had his appearance changed that much? Did he look that menacing?
He couldn’t keep his temper from erupting. “Since you find the sight of me to reprehensible to speak with me, then get on your horse and go. And don’t bother to return.” He turned to walk away, anger burning in the pit of his stomach.
“Royden?” the whispery voice asked.
He turned with a scowl at the questionable mention of his name. “Aye, it is me and who is it I know that takes such offense to my appearance?”
The woman raised her hands and lifted her hood, revealing her face.
“Oria.” He nearly roared her name, at least in his head, since it came out more gently, and the fire in his gut burned like the fires of hell when he realized that the woman he loved was wed to another man.
Chapter 2
Oria was having difficulty finding her voice. She couldn’t believe the man who she loved was finally standing there in front of her. She had prayed every day for his safe return and now that he had finally returned, she found herself speechless. Her instinct was to simply throw herself at him, feel his arms wrap around her once again, hug him tight, and never let him go, but she quelled the urge when he took a step back away from her.
She looked at him then, truly looked at him, and saw a much different man than the one she had loved since as long as she could remember. He appeared far taller and larger than she had remembered him, not that he had grown in height, though he had in width, thick, solid muscle straining at his garments. He also held himself more erect than she recalled, his chest taut, his chin a slight lift to it as if daring anyone to come near him. There were small telltale signs of scars here and there on his chin and neck and one on his brow that had long healed.