Both men drew their swords, pointing them in the general direction of the voice. They were shocked when a slender woman cloaked in a green and red tartan rounded the rocks and stepped in front of them. Her face was hidden behind her loose hood.
“I am a bit disappointed ye would consider me such a little threat. And yet I must admit that ye were right to think I would come alone,” she proclaimed innocently. “A whole group of MacPhersons on MacAllister land would have been much harder to hide, after all.”
The lass was followed closely by a scruffy orange tabby cat. The fearless creature trotted to the two men and weaved between their legs, meowing at each of them. When they shooed it away, the cloaked woman crouched down and extended a fair hand to recall it, and it returned to her immediately.
“And who are ye, lass? Remove yer hood from yer face. After all, we”—Alexander motioned to his brother and himself—“arenae hidin’ our faces from ye.”
“I am Helena Fraser.” Her voice rang out in the alcove sweetly, almost melodically. Bending to pick up the cat and cradle it, she rubbed her cheek against its head affectionately. “And this is Mags, the Impossible.”
Her voice was like birdsong in the spring. Clasping her hood in a dainty hand, she pulled it back from her face, revealing long black hair and doe-like brown eyes with the most adorable small mole under her left eye.
Alexander was struck silent by her breathtaking beauty; his voice caught in his throat, and he feared he may choke on the lack of air. He was rarely taken with a woman. Most were fine to bed for a night or two, but he had more important matters to attend to than matters of his heart or… his body.
Well, he’s certainly nae hidin’ her because she is hideous.
Alexander took a long moment to study her before exchanging a look with Michael, quickly concluding that they were having the same thoughts.
He growled low, not liking another man eyeing her even though he was doing the very same thing. Michael had the decency to clear his throat and avert his gaze from the lass, sensing the shift in the air.
Why am I suddenly so possessive of a lass I just met?
“I told ye to stay at the castle,” she muttered to the cat, oblivious to the unscrupulous thoughts of the men in front of her.
She was not bothered in the slightest that she was standing in a clearing with two war-hardened men from a rival clan, with only a cat for protection.
The two brothers exchanged bewildered looks, puzzled by her relaxed stance. Alexander began to wonder if the lass was a bit touched in the head, after all.
Perhaps that was why her father kept her locked away in the keep. Though neither Broderic nor Ian ever mentioned that she was a lunatic.
“Apologies, lass, we meant nay offense. I’m Michael Gordon, man-at-arms to Alexander Gordon, Laird of Clan MacAllister.”
Michael was the first one to resume breathing and therefore able to make words out of sounds faster than Alexander, whose head still swam. He dipped his head slightly as he introduced himself, before sweeping his hand in his brother’s direction and introducing him as well.
Alexander shook his head slightly, cleared his throat, and plastered his gruff mask back on.
“Speak for yerself. I still dinnae see the lass capable of arrangin’ such a thing.” He slid his sword back into its scabbard and then crossed his arms over his chest. The pose made him look even more intimidating.
Michael put his sword away as well, assuming a much more relaxed stance beside his brother. He looked far less threatening.
“Oh, tsk, tsk. Ye men always underestimate the womenfolk. An archaic thought, that women should leave war and all that comes with it to the men. I strongly disagree with that notion.” She set the cat down, wandering closer to Alexander.
“Aye, if ye say so. I’m gettin’ bored of this conversation already. I am nae a patient man, lass,” he warned.
“What if a wee lass such as meself could end this war? Would ye be bored, then?” Her eyes blazed in challenge, refusing to show how suddenly uncertain she felt beneath his brooding gaze. “Shall we light a fire and at least drink some ale while we discuss the matters at hand?”
Michael looked to Alexander for instruction.
Alexander nodded, moving to start a small fire while motioning for Michael to go to the horses. The lass moved further into theclearing, setting her small bag down and taking a seat beside the fire Alexander was building.
“It is either very brave of ye or very stupid of ye to be out here alone with two men, ye ken that?” he grunted, striking flint and steel over a small pile of kindling. “What if we were of the mind to simply make ye our captive to force MacPherson to accept a truce?”
A small fire ignited beneath his skillful hands, and she watched him with intense interest. Michael brought ale bottles with him and handed one to the lass with a respectful nod.
“That would be yer mistake, Me Laird. Me faither would nay more change his position for me sake than for any others. His hatred for ye runs too deep for that, I’m afraid,” she conceded, her expression slightly grim.
Helena tried to hide her thoughts. She had arranged this meeting in secret. If Laird MacAllister and his man-at-arms chose to take her as a prisoner before hearing her proposal, no one was coming to rescue her.
Please, please, let them be reasonable men despite their differences.
