and Alex knows her skill better than she does.
Chapter Seventeen
Ashlyn earns praise from her uncle, the great Alex Grant, after many fought so hard against the elusive villain MacNiven. After chastising herself for only wounding him, her uncle viewed her actions as something to be proud of, something Ashlyn hadn’t considered.
Ashlyn moved into the other chamber where her uncles, Logan and Alex, sat with Jake and her stepsire Robbie. Jake stood and ushered her to a chair. “Come and sit. You look exhausted. If you’ve the strength, please tell us what transpired.”
She explained about the cottage they’d used for shelter in the storm, and how they had found the dead deer and followed the tracks to the castle. Only two eyebrows quirked at the mention of the two of them staying alone in the hut—her stepsire’s and Jake’s. Naught was said by anyone. She gave them the general location of the new path, and how they had followed it to the crumbling keep.
“Logan tells me you believe ‘twas MacNiven. Are you sure?”
“I saw him from afar with his helm on, but Magnus recognized him. The talk we overheard certainly sounded like him.”
“Any idea what their plans are?” Uncle Alex asked, drumming his fingers on the table.
“When my arrows killed two of his men, MacNiven raced for the front of the keep. He gave instructions for one of themen to kill Magnus, then he whirled around and fled. The others followed him. I put an arrow in the belly of the man aiming for Magnus, and I tried to shoot MacNiven,” she paused, trying to collect herself. “I caught him in the shoulder, but then I noticed Magnus was barely moving and another ran after him, so I shot him in his chest and climbed out of the tree.”
The floodgates finally opened, and down came the tears. “I could have tried to shoot MacNiven again, but Magnus…I decided…the other man could have killed him.” Her face now covered with tears, she was unable to finish her sentence.
Jake, seated next to her, wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “I’m quite pleased you chose to take care of my best friend instead of taking off after that fool. ‘Twas the right thing to do.”
“I could have put an end to all of this, but then I…”
“I would have done the same. I agree with Jake, you made the correct choice.” Uncle Logan crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“We all agree, now you need to accept ‘tis true.” Uncle Alex stood and moved to the door, filling up the entire frame. “Jake, there’s little more we can do. He’s a strong warrior. I expect we’ll talk to him by the morrow. Logan, come back to the great hall for an ale?”
Before they left, Alex stopped with his hand on the door handle. “Ashlyn, you alone wounded the man who has escaped all of us, you’ve made me proud to call you a Grant warrior. Hold your head high.”
“My thanks, my laird.” She sniffled because her tears had finally slowed. The reality of what her laird had just said settled on her. Was it the truth? Was she the only warrior to have injured MacNiven? She fought with everything she had back at that curtain wall, but she’d been ready to go home when in Edinburgh. There was no reason to be embarrassed. Suddenly,she looked at all that transpired in a different light. Uncle Alex was proud of her!
Jamie and Gracie
Book 7
This is a powerful story of father and son. Jamie loves Gracie but can’t admit it to himself. Alex will make certain he figures it out.
Chapter Eleven
In this scene, the suitors arrive to see the most beautiful lass in all the Highlands,
Gracie, but Jamie can’t handle watching her with another man.
Baron Crichton learns not to raise a blade to a woman in Castle Grant.
“I would like some time to get to know you, my lady. Come along with me to this table where we may speak in private.”
Gracie did not say anything, just nodded in agreement and then searched the crowd around them. She noticed Laird Chisholm was speaking with her sire, but she could not find Jamie. She needed to know that he was doing as he’d promised—that he was watching over her. There. He stood a short distance away, and while he was indeed watching them, he made no movement toward them. His arms were crossed and the rest of his body was in a warrior’s stance. His facial expression was quite serious, but it couldn’t have been any worse than hers. For some reason, she was paralyzed in fear.
Rather than stopping at the table, the baron managed to maneuver her toward a passageway off the hall. It led to her uncle Brodie’s tower, which was well lit with torches, but the passageway itself was darker than she would have liked. Still, she was doing what was expected of her, was she not? She smiledat the baron. “Forgive me, but you are the first baron I have met. How should I address you?”
“How refreshing that you choose to ask instead of risking a mistake. I am pleased with that quality. You may call me Baron Crichton. If we become more familiar, my given name is Gordon, but that would be premature at this point. Do you not agree?”
“Of course, Baron Crichton.”
“An agreeable, beautiful woman. Just what I have been searching for.” He reached up and ran a finger down her cheekbone. “You are quite elegant, a true beauty. The noble blood in you is so obvious. Regal, just as a baroness should be.”
He gave her a tender kiss, short but sweet—a kiss that confused her because it was nice. As nice as Jamie’s? Nay, nothing could be, but she still felt something.
