Darkest Highlander Read Online Free PDF Page A

Sonya. Maybe he wouldn’t return them quite so quickly to MacLeod Castle.
    Then he recalled the deaths associated with him before he was made immortal. And the one after.
    If he stayed near Sonya, he risked her life. But how could he stay away? He was drawn to her like the tides to the moon.
    She was his breath, his heart.
    She was … everything.

 
     
    FOUR
     
    Malcolm Monroe stood silently as he stared at the road before him. It was well worn by carts and horses and people making their way between the mountains.
    It was also the path home.
    Malcolm blew out a breath and wondered why he didn’t feel so sad that he could never return to his clan. It wasn’t just because his arm was ruined and useless. He could still use his left arm to lift a sword, not that it would make a difference to his clan.
    A laird had to be fit. He had to be whole. And Malcolm most certainly wasn’t whole anymore. Thanks to Deirdre.
    It wasn’t just his arm or the vicious scars on his face and chest. How could he return to a world where there was no magic or Warriors? How could he return to his home and forget his cousin was the lone female Warrior and could turn invisible? How could he return to his clan and forget he had seen Druids and watched them do unimaginable, beautiful magic?
    The simple answer was that he couldn’t.
    Nor could he stay at MacLeod Castle. He needed to make a life for himself. Somewhere. He just wasn’t sure where or how just yet.
    Malcolm was sure it would come to him soon enough. Until then, he would wander the majestic mountains of Scotland’s Highlands and let the land soak into his soul.
    He would be alone, but it was for the best. He held too much darkness and resentment inside him to be good company for anyone—even the moody Warriors at the castle.
    Malcolm turned away from the road and looked at the mountain on his left. There were many villages and clans hidden in the mountains. Maybe it was time he found them.
    He adjusted the sporran around his waist, which held his few coins. His sword now rested on his right hip to make it easier to grab with his left hand. Much in his life had changed, and he was trying to adjust to all of it.
    Larena, his dear cousin, worried too much. She was married now and needed all her concentration on defeating Deirdre. Larena couldn’t do that as long as he was at MacLeod Castle reminding her that he was mortal. He couldn’t fight with the Warriors, nor would be go with the women to hide.
    So he had left.
    Malcolm knew he should have said farewell, but everyone would have only tried to convince him to stay. He had given his departure a lot of thought, and it was the only way. For him, it was the only answer that made sense.
    He tried to flex his ruined hand, but as usual only got a small twitch of his fingers. He could lift his right arm, but not without tremendous pain that only grew worse each day.
    Deirdre’s Warriors who had attacked him had certainly done their job. If only Broc hadn’t stopped them, Malcolm would be dead instead of living as half a man.
    As a Highlander, half a man wasn’t acceptable. Still, it wasn’t as if Malcolm had given up on living. He planned to continue on, just not alongside immortal Warriors and magical Druids where he was only in the way.
    Malcolm inhaled deeply and started up the incline of the mountain. What lay on the other side he didn’t know. It was something unknown, and for now, that kept him going, kept his mind from the fact that he could use only one arm.
    For now, it was enough.
    *   *   *
     
    With her belly full of tasty broth, Sonya let her mind drift as she soaked in the hot water of her bath. Her injured hand rested on the rim of the wooden tub, her head against the back.
    The water was doing wonders to ease the aches of her body. Too bad it couldn’t heal her wounded heart as effortlessly.
    Sonya sat up and reached for the soap. It was going to be difficult to wash with just one hand, but she would make do.