A Soldier's Salvation (Highland Heartbeats Book 7)(4)

“You wouldn’t be the first to concede defeat, even if you had.” Jake laughed.

The two of them clasped arms, the bond between them as strong as ever. It did Rodric’s heart good to see Jake looking healthier than he had on the road—the pain had obviously gotten to him long before their encounter, and his skin had looked downright ashen.

Jake glanced around at all the men. “Please, please, come in. The courtesies of the house are extended to you. Rest, refresh yourselves. I’ll have baths drawn and meals prepared.”

“If it’s not too much bother,” Fergus replied.

“Not at all. The laird is out riding at present, but he’s already instructed the servants to prepare rooms. You need only make yourselves comfortable.”

Meanwhile, a handful of men appeared seemingly out of nowhere to unload the wagon, while Maccay and his men rode off to perform other duties. The entire place ran smoothly. Clearly, the Duncans were skilled at managing.

“I would like to walk a bit before going in,” Rodric decided.

His legs were stiff from riding, though he was careful not to mention this in Jake’s presence. It was a sensitive issue and always would be.

“I’d be happy to show you around,” Jake offered, falling into step beside him.

Rodric’s instincts told him there was an unspoken reason for this offer of companionship, but he kept this insight to himself while in the presence of the others.

One of the servants, a young girl—too young for Quinn, he noted with a wry smile—led the others inside.

“How have things been here for you and your family?” Rodric asked.

“Better than ever, though it may sound a bit as though I’m bragging when I say it.”

“Just a bit.” Rodric snorted. “Still, I’m glad to hear it.”

“God knows we had more than our share of challenges,” Jake replied, his voice and expression darkening a bit. “I suppose we’re due a stretch of fair weather after so many storms.”

“I cannot think of anyone more deserving of the peace you seem to have found here.” This was all Rodric could reveal of what lie buried in his heart. He’d never be able to express his appreciation for what Jake had done.

If anyone deserved happiness and the satisfaction of a peaceful, abundant life, it was Jake Duncan.

“And you?”

“And me? What about me?” He chuckled.

“Do you plan on spending the rest of your life going from place to place, offering your specialized skills to the highest bidder?”

This rankled Rodric, as his friend made it sound as though he were nothing but a soldier of fortune. As though he were a brute who inflicted pain on behalf of the man or woman willing to pay. There were men such as that who wandered the roads, always moving, never able to settle in one place for long as they were more often than not wanted by officials in every corner of the countryside.

When he didn’t receive a reply, Jake clicked his tongue and sighed. “I shouldn’t have spoken so freely. It was unfair to you.”

“A bit,” Rodric conceded.

Jake sighed again, this time the sort of sigh which signaled a bit of bad news. “There’s a reason why I ask about your plans. I thought there was a chance you hadn’t heard, and now I believe I’m right.”

Hair stood straight up on the back of Rodric’s neck. “Hadn’t heard what?”

“There’s been some trouble in your clan. I had hoped to approach it delicately, asking if you planned to return home. I didn’t want to greet ye with such unpleasantness right off.”

“What sort of trouble?” He should’ve known. The moment Alan took over...

“It seems there was an argument.” It was clear to him that Jake chose his words carefully—irritatingly so.

“Put it plainly,” Rodric snapped. “What did my brother do?”

“How did you know your brother had anything to do with it?”

How did he know? There wasn’t enough time in the day to explain to his friend how he’d known without being told that his older brother Alan had started a feud between their clan and another. Alan had been starting fights since the day he was born, or so it seemed.

“He’s always had a talent for fighting—if it hadn’t been for his being the eldest son and our father needing his assistance with the clan, he would’ve been the one to go to war for King Alexander. And he would’ve loved it.” For once, he’d have had the excuse to release his insatiable appetite for violence.

“Aye, well, it seems he’s used that talent with another clan. The McAllisters.”

Rodric went cold at the name. Not a name he’d expected to hear, much less one he wanted to hear. A McAllister was the reason he would’ve gladly never returned home.

He managed to speak over the blood rushing in his ears—though he couldn’t hear himself, he asked, “Did you happen to hear what the feud involves?”

Jake shook his head. “Only that there’s bad blood between the clans now. Rumor has it, bloodshed isn’t far off.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, knowing Alan.” Rodric’s jaw tightened. If only their father was alive to see what his son was making of the clan which had brought him such pride—then again, if the old man were still living, Alan wouldn’t be leading the clan to destruction.