Camdyn (Immortal Highlander Clan MacRoss Book 3): A Scottish Time Travel Romance by Hazel Hunter

Author:Hazel Hunter [Hunter, Hazel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-05T16:00:00+00:00

Camdyn listened with ever-decreasing patience as the headman complained about the village forge remaining unmanned. Convincing an experienced smith to come and teach the three apprentices not yet skilled enough to manage the work had proven impossible, as all worked at forges of their own and would not travel. Work had been piling up for weeks, he claimed, and the villagers wished the MacRoss to do something about the situation.

“’Tis your forge,” Camdyn reminded him. “We’ve concerns enough of our own.”

“If ’twas but the farmers demanding new plowshares and coulters for tilling after the harvest, we might send to another town for what they need,” Erlach said. “Only the blacksmith had already fell behind on his orders due to rebuilding his furnace, and then got himself killed by that crazed fack of a hunter. Half the families in the crofts and our village, they’re in dire need now.”

“Reckon you your smith wished to be murdered by Fyn Carack?” Camdyn demanded. “For I’ll guess he didnae.”

The headman had the grace to look ashamed. “Forgive me, Chieftain, but we’ve only a few months left before the cold sets in. Aside from the farmers’ plow parts we need hinges, nails and tools for building the shelters and barns we’ll need for the new herds this winter, and axes for the woodsmen, and more than I may name. None shall drop from the heavens no matter how oft we entreat the Gods, and ’twill be too costly to buy them from another village. We’ve the ore and the tools. We but need a smith.”

A glint of glowing copper-red hair caught Camdyn’s eye, and he handed the reins of his mount to the headman. “I must speak with someone for a moment. Tether my horse.”

He trotted over to the tree line, where he found Isabel standing behind the broad trunk of an old oak. She didn’t seem surprised to see him, so she must have hoped he would spot her.

“What do you here?” he demanded as he approached her. She turned away, but not before he saw the darkening mark on her face. Something ugly uttered a soft snarl inside his head. “Who struck you?”

“Your other girlfriend,” she muttered.

He took hold of her arm. “What say you?”

“Ailsa MacAnvoy.” Isabel faced him, her expression bland yet her eyes glittering. “She rode over to Dun Lasair and pretended to be attacked and thrown from her horse. When I tried to help her up off the ground she punched me for touching her. Do you bring out the worst in everyone, or just women?”

As she spoke, every word lashed the air between them like small whips she had cracked. Camdyn had never seen such a look in her eyes, either––one he had sometimes glimpsed on the faces of opponents rushing across a battlefield. Something had made Isabel so furious she seemed poised to attack him.

“I’m sorry she hurt you.” He didn’t want to look into her eyes, for he understood her rage only too well, and it would stoke his own.

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