"I'm glad ye were jealous. Even if it was completely unfounded."
He left before she could throw something at him, her indignant "Alpin!" following him down the corridor.
And despite everything—the prisoner, Ashcombe, the looming threat at his borders—Alpin found himself grinning like a fool all the way to the cells.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Again! Faster this time!"
Alpin blocked the downward strike with his sword, feeling the jar of impact all the way up his arm.
Sweat dripped down his bare chest as he pivoted, bringing his blade around in a controlled arc that forced his opponent—Fergus, one of his best warriors—to stumble back.
"Ye're gettin’ slow, me laird," Fergus taunted, breathing hard.
"Am I?" Alpin feinted left, then drove forward, his blade stopping just short of Fergus's throat. "Yield."
"Aye, aye." Fergus lowered his sword, grinning. "Point taken."
The training yard was busy that afternoon, warriors drilling in pairs while others watched and offered commentary. The autumn sun was warm despite the season, and Alpin had shed his shirt when the heat had become too much.
He stepped back, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tight muscles. Training always helped clear his mind, and God knew he needed it after that morning's interrogation.
The prisoner still wasn't talking, Ashcombe was still camped at the border, and the dance was coming soon?—
Movement at the edge of the yard caught his attention.
Mhairi stood just inside the gate, her hand still on the latch as if she'd frozen mid-step. Her eyes were fixed on him with an intensity that made Alpin's breath catch.
She was staring. Very obviously staring at his bare chest.
Heat that had nothing to do with exertion flooded through him.
"Me laird?" Fergus prompted. "Another round?"
"Give me a moment." Alpin's voice came out rougher than intended. He handed his sword to Fergus without looking away from Mhairi. "Take a rest. We'll continue later."
He crossed the yard toward her, very aware of the way her gaze tracked his movement. The way her cheeks had gone pink. The way she seemed unable to look away even though she clearly wanted to.
"See somethin’ ye like, lass?" he asked quietly as he reached her.
Mhairi's eyes snapped up to his face, her blush deepening. "I— that's nae—I was just?—"
"Just?"
"Lookin’ fer ye," she finished weakly. "I wanted tae speak with ye about something."
"And now that ye've found me?" Alpin couldn't resist moving a bit closer, watching the way her breathing quickened.
"Now I'm... distracted."
"By what?" He knew he was being unfair, but the look in her eyes was doing dangerous things to his self-control.
"Ye ken perfectly well by what," she muttered, finally dragging her gaze away from his chest. "Could ye perhaps put a shirt on so I can think properly?"
Alpin laughed, low and warm. "If ye insist. Though I'm rather enjoyin’ the way ye're lookin’ at me."
"I'm nae lookin’ at ye any particular way."
