Page 19 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

Andrew looked at her sideways. "Funny job for a lassie," he said comically. Grace felt herself seethe. She tried not to look at him, sitting there so prim astride his horse.

She always got this reaction when she told anyone of her occupation. Then, when they saw her in action, they changed their minds.

"Aye, hilarious," said Grace, her face not wavering.

Andrew looked at her closely. "Och," said Andrew, ruefully, "I'm sorry. I didnae mean it. I just havenae heard o' a lassie being a fighter. So, um, have ye seen any battles?"

The look he gave her was so sincere that Grace found herself melting. "Well, I havenae been in any actual battles," she was forced to admit. "That isnae really something I have done...yet."

Grace bit her lip. A combination of irritation and embarrassment bubbled up inside of her. Her confession had made her sound like an amateur. But the only reason she had not yet been in battle was because she had not had the chance.

"Well, maybe it's for the best, lass," said Andrew innocently. "Ye wouldnae like it."

Eyes blazing, she turned to Andrew. "The only reason I havenae fought a battle is because o' men like ye!" she fumed.

Andrew looked as if he had been bitten. His surprise only made Grace angrier.

"Do ye nae think I'm capable in a battle?" she demanded, pulling suddenly close to Andrew. "Every job I've done has been a success. An' they're always so surprised that a slip o' a lass could take down some muckle man. But I do!"

Without knowing it, she had sped up. Maybe it was him, but suddenly she was galloping along at a fair old pace, with Andrew thundering along beside her.

A side wind took her hair, blasting it across the landscape. There was so much of it that Grace could hardly see. Her dark locks thrashed back and forth, completely blindsiding her. All the same, she did not slow down one bit. Men like this were the bane of her life. She would have gotten a lot more work over the years if it wasn't for them.

Sensing he had done something wrong, Andrew looked unsure.

"Grace?" he called, racing to catch up with her. Grace continued regardless, her eyes fixed straight ahead. "Grace? Stop. I'm sorry! Listen..."

The countryside sped past as Grace kept going forward. As he yelled, Grace turned quickly to look at him. Andrew was increasing in pace, his brown horse charging along beside her and drawing near. At the sight of him riding so furiously, Grace couldn't help but smirk.

By now, he had caught up to her. "Listen, I didnae mean it. I'm sure ye are..." His voice drifted off, then he glanced at her sideways. "Terrifying," he said, the corners of his mouth moving upright in a grin, "tae anyone in battle. An' I'd like tae ken more."

The smile did it. Despite her resolve, Grace found herself softening, so much so that she did not even remark on his teasing. Now side by side, the pair of them rode together, trotting at a much slower pace, making it easier to talk.

Now that he was listening, Grace felt herself blush. Squeezing the reins, she slowed Sparkle down to a soft trot. "Ah, um, what do ye want tae ken?"

"Well, how did ye get started?" asked Andrew, his green eyes following her everywhere.

Grace felt a little uncomfortable but then grinned. "Almost by accident," she said, as the cold morning sun rose in the sky. Shrewdly, she glanced into the horizon. With a bit of luck, they would make it to the central village by midday. "There was a raid in the castle a good few years ago. Bandits poured in from all over. No one kent what tae do."

Her eyes glanced swiftly at his as she took a swift intake of air. "All the men—the guards—were away at battle. All the warriors, like ye..." Here, Grace smiled quickly, then paused. "They were all gone, an' the castle, the household staff... They were trying tae defend themselves. It was every man for himself...an' every woman, too!"

Andrew was watching closely now. "Go on," he murmured.

She could tell that she had gotten his attention. "Well, I grabbed my father's sword—he's the village blacksmith—an' a few of his tools an' ran off tae help them." Grace smiled, warming to her tale. She enjoyed the look of amazement on Andrew's face. "An' all the men, the ones that were left, they tried tae warn me not tae, but I didnae care. Anyhow, we saw them off, these bandits. An' they left the estate nearly empty-handed but nae until I'd slain three o' them, wi' me own hauns!"

Grace looked around.

Andrew was staring in disbelief. "Ach," he said, as if stumped for words. Then quickly, he rallied. "Remind me nae tae get in a collieshangie wi' ye!"

Grace eyed him with pride. "Aye, ye'd be best advised nae tae." She smiled.

Together, they rode ahead. The path to the hills was winding and, at times, steep. As the track narrowed, he held back, allowing her to go ahead. Then, he trotted on behind her.

"So, is this home?" he asked, indicating the Ferguson castle hovering on the horizon.

Grace nodded.

"I grew up there, in the castle. My father has a wee cottage in the central village, outside of the castle. I kent everyone there. I think it was all the knights an' the battles that got me interested. There was always something going on." Grace smiled at the memory. "But my father didnae think much o' it. He said it was dangerous an' a lass like me needed tae be married!"