Page 52 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

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"Andrew, I'm giving ye one chance tae put that sword down an' step away..."

Paton's voice did not waver, but when he looked up, Grace saw fear in his eyes. Anxiously, he cast about, looking for his guards. There were none.

Now realizing he was alone, a pleading look came into his eyes.

"Andrew, I command ye in the name o' the laird," began Paton. Andrew almost spat, disgusted. With a single push of the hand, he knocked Paton off his feet. Now he was on the ground, struggling to get free.

"Ye are nae the laird!" Andrew hissed so deeply into Paton's ear that he almost recoiled. Grace looked at him in desperation. All she wanted to do was get out of there. This kind of scene wasn't what she wanted—and if anyone was going to slit Paton's throat, she wanted it to be her!

But despite being on the ground, Paton was not conceding defeat. His eyes sparkled with rage.

From the ground, he yelled, "I am the acting laird, an' when I marry the lassie, I will be the real laird! So ye had better both get used tae following my orders!"

He tried his hardest to get free, wriggling and shifting his weight upright, but he was stuck below Andrew's sword. With a steel blade in his face, there was little Paton could do, and his weedy frame was no match for Andrew's superior might.

"Nay!" growled Andrew. Despite her fervor to be off, Grace couldn't help noticing how energized he looked in the early fall light. While all around her was gray—the steely autumn skies taking on an especially somber look—he was fresh and clear.

Andrew's eyes sparkled as he glared at Paton. So far, he had barely looked at her, leaving Grace guessing as to his feelings. But the fact that he was there at all gave her hope.

Shyly, she watched him, his tussled brown hair falling softly over his eyes. Grace wished desperately that she could brush it away and run her fingers through his soft tresses, but it was hardly the time.

All the same, her brain was buzzing with questions. How did Andrew get back so soon? Was he here to stay?

From the ground, Paton wheezed terribly. The pair of them stood and watched as he writhed around, coughing and spluttering.

"Ye'll pay for this!" warned Paton, but he could barely draw breath. Grace felt a little uneasy. Unsure, she looked at Andrew.

Relenting, Andrew stepped backward, allowing Paton the chance to get to his feet. Shakily, Paton pulled himself up and dusted down his gray robes. Once he had gotten his breath back, he looked venomously at Andrew.

"Ye are going tae regret doing that, Andrew. This is my clan now, an' what I say goes. Both of ye!" Paton's withered eyes cast toward Grace, holding her in their beam.

Andrew shook his head. Cut against the steely light, his brown hair rippled in the breeze.

"It is nae yer clan, Paton. Ye’re just the advisor, an' one who has used his position for ill." He squeezed Grace's hand unexpectedly. Strange tingles erupted around her body as he spoke.

"The laird gave me orders tae help find the lass an' keep the clan together. He didnae say anything about giving it tae a wheezy auld bodach who cannae keep his hauns tae himself!"

Paton looked as if he was about to collapse again, but Andrew brushed past him roughly, taking Grace by the hand and leading her firmly away.

Grace followed Andrew across the hilly glen, escorted by their horses. She was glad to get away but couldn't help wondering what Paton would do next.

His hand in hers, Andrew grasped on to Grace as if her life depended on it. Of course, it did not, and Andrew knew full well that given half a chance, Grace probably could have slain the wily old goat for herself. But things were far more delicate than that.

The future of the clan was at stake, and Andrew had to act. At least, that's what he had told himself as he traveled back across the Highlands at breakneck speed.

Taking her hand and holding it more fully, Andrew sighed. It had only been a few days, but he had missed this. Missed her. And the more he had tried to convince himself he did not, the worse he felt.

"I dinnae need yer help," was the first thing she said to him the second they got away.

Despite himself, Andrew couldn't help grinning. This was the Grace he knew and begrudgingly had started to love.

Love?

That word stopped him dead as they approached the corridors to the bedchambers. But, he noted, her hand was still in his, even once they were well away from Paton.

Holding her hand, Andrew realized this was the reason he had careered back through the sodden Highland countryside in the rain.