LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND
The Past -Greystone Lands
Gavin’s muscled body moved quickly as he sprinted over clumps of grass and rocks, making his way back to Greystone—his home. He lied to his lass, telling her he was off to get wood for the fire, which, he amended, wasn’t a complete fabrication. He had every intention of getting the wood but only after he scouted out the perimeters of the castle again. A fire was burning in his belly from seeing with his own eyes, that blackguard, Broderick, on the battlements of his home acting as though it was his own. Not for long. Ducking down, he made his way to the crest of the hill, hiding from view in the tall grass.
While he waited for nightfall, he couldn’t help but wonder if he were ta go see Shamus if he would help him regain his home from the likes of Broderick but after he thought on it a wee bit longer, he came to the realization that Shamus would have no cause ta put his life on the line for Gavin, nor would he want him to.
Mayhap if Morgan was still with him he would have a chance. His father’s second in Command was a warrior. He could split a skull in two with one hand while gutting a whoreson with the other and still not break a sweat.
A wan smile crossed his face at the remembrance.
Aye, he missed Morgan.
Of its own accord his mind strayed to Alec, Graham, Callum and Muir—he knew if he were ta somehow get word to them that they would help him—but ta what end? What if something happened to them? He couldn’t bear losing anymore of his men.
No.
He couldn’t do that. He would just have ta do it himself—he just wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish that no small feat himself—yet.
Gavin knew his lands and home like the back of his hand. He also knew the Greystone had many places to sneak into that only he and Morgan knew about. He would have to use one of those passageways to get inside the keep after dark because he couldn’t risk doing it while it was still light; he would surely be discovered. And then everything he sought to accomplish by coming back ta the past would be in vain.
Having his lass here made doing this more difficult. He didn’t know what would happen to her, especially if something happened to him. He would have to keep his wits about him or else they both may end up paying the ultimate price. And that was something he wasn’t willing to risk at this juncture—so he waited.
A cool breeze blew blades of grass over on its side as a lone raven soared heavenward. He watched it for a moment—wondering if it was some kind of sign.
It was quiet—too quiet. Readjusting his position, he hunkered down, looking for anything out of the ordinary surrounding the castle.
What bothered him most was how Broderick got to the men, the ones he had killed. And who were the men that did the foul deed?
They were most likely mercenaries, he thought—but how did he get the coin ta pay them? It occurred to Gavin that either Broderick made some kind of deal with the King— or he made a bargain with the witch in hopes of getting the treasure for himself. But how could he do that when the witch had told Gavin that only a true descendant of Greystone could retrieve the gold?
Unfortunately, in all the thinking and pondering that Gavin was doing, he never once considered a rather simple fact…he was not the only living descendant of Greystone… Callum was also a Grey.