Page 18 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

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They set off with the sun behind them, its orange rays warming their backs. Andrew's large brown horse harrumphed its way along the town's cobbles. They were wet.

It had rained the night before, although Grace had no memory of it, and the narrow side vennels gushed with water, spilling out into the main street.

Surreptitiously, she gazed at Andrew. Inside, she was still uneasy. Yes, he had helped her, and she had even gotten a shilling off him, but there was much she did not know about this young man.

Andrew looked ahead, his strong face pointing up to the green hills beyond.

"Up there, aye?" he asked, pointing to the castle on the hill.

Grace nodded but said no more. She was thinking. Anxiously, she wrapped her fingers about her sgian-dubh.

They rode in silence, Andrew glancing slyly at her. Then, he cleared his throat.

"So, um, I suppose I should introduce mysel' a wee bit," he said after a suitable pause had elapsed. Grace looked up.

"Aye, I suppose ye should," she said, sitting back and waiting.

The horses trotted on, pushing slowly through the gold terrain. Grace found herself looking at it. The trees were bare and thinning. In one single eve, they had lost all their leaves. Puzzled, Grace frowned. She did not remember this from last night. Seeing her expression, Andrew leaped in.

"Big winds last night," he murmured.

Now he was so close she could feel his breath. His scent swirled in. Grace's heart thumped. Not much made her tense, but being this close to an unknown man did.

"Aye," she said noncommittally. Her eyes stared ahead, gazing at the road as if she wanted to do anything but look at him.

Of course, this was all she really wanted to do. The scent of the man pressed close to her was doing unexpected things. With no warning, Grace wanted to touch him, to explore the texture of his skin. He was weather hewn, yet tender, and she was curious to know how he felt.

Then, he caught her. From the corner of his eye, Andrew saw Grace looking.

Casting her head down, Grace chided herself for allowing her attention to be swayed by a man.

In her world, men were only good for one thing—and it wasn't the thing they thought! She was only here because Andrew had promised her money.

Yes, that is the only reason, thought Grace, taking the reins of her horse and steeling herself not to look at Andrew. Enough! This has to stop.

Without another look, she cleared her throat. "So then, ye’re a warrior? What battles ha' ye seen?"

Andrew smiled and looked at her. Now that he was watching, it was impossible for her not to look. Despite every inch of her screaming not to turn, she turned. Instantly, she was caught in the beam of his grin. An easy smile stretched across his face, illuminating it fully.

It was a wicked smile, and something made Grace hesitate before turning around.

"Ach," said Andrew dismissively. "Just now, I returned from the Kennedys. I dinnae ken if ye ken, but there was a big collieshangie up there just recently."

Grace raised an eyebrow. She had indeed heard of it. "Och aye, who won?" she asked.

"We did," said Andrew, looking pleased with himself. He grinned. Then, his face froze.

Grace looked at him, slightly worried.

"But lost a lot in the process," he added. Then he turned away. Grace could not help herself from guessing what he might mean. It was clear from the sudden way he stopped talking that Andrew had lost someone dear to him.

There was a pause. Andrew composed himself, then turned to Grace.

"So, what about ye, lass?" he said, interested. "Ye said ye were a warrior?"

"Aye," said Grace, looking down. They had made it to the edge of town and were facing the steep face of the hill leading to the Ferguson castle. "I am."