Page 176 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

CHAPTER 7

Mal!

It was him. She just knew.

As Ainslee grappled in the back alley, she could not escape looking up into his eyes.

Large and green, they were just the ones she had left ten years ago. The intervening years had not changed them very much - maybe there were some more rings around them; a distinct wash of sun, and with it some lines. But in that darkened alley, she didn't see them very much.

In the moonwashed half-light - for the sun was beginning to fade now - he was every inch the man he had been.

Maybe a few inches more!

The grip on her hands hurt. His strong hands, compressing her as she struggled to get free. Desperate, Ainslee pulled and kicked him, but his grasp did not give. Shocked, she gave him a slap - resounding and harsh, flat against his cheek.

This brought Mal up sharp. For a moment he flinched, and blinked a bit. But still, his grip did not wane. Instead, he drew his blade to her cheek.

"Think verra carefully lass, aboot what ye do to me!"

His green eyes flashed, pure venom, and for a moment, Ainslee was scared. What if she was wrong? What if this was not him?

But she knew in her heart it was. What worried her more was what had he become in the intervening years. The man who stood before her was hard, and taut. Apart from his shape, there was little of him that she knew.

Yes, his muscles were still in shape - pretty good shape actually - and his rugged frame rippled just as she remembered. But his face had become imbued with a hardness; maybe the wind, from the seas. He was still handsome, maybe more so, but there was something different about him.

Ainslee struggled for a speck of recognition in his green eyes, but saw none. Wriggling from his grip was not an option, now the blade was up tight against her cheek. Without moving, Ainslee watched him, plaintively.

"I dinnae care. I need to ken yer name. Ye want to ken who I am, well nae until ye admit who ye are. Yer Malcolm Duncan, the heir to the Duncan clan - an' I want to hear ye say it. So, go on! Tell me!"

Ainslee surprised herself with the volume of speech that came out of her mouth. It was like, once she started, she could not stop. It all spilled out, years of waiting. But if Malcolm was affected, he was not showing it.

Holding her wrists hard, he glared at her harshly. "Is the answer worth yer wee neck?" he said, still pointing the knife towards her.

Ainslee felt her heart charging. She was burning up. It was cold in the alley, with the icy, hard rain falling fast. But despite this, she felt hot and sweaty.

"Aye," said Ainslee, defensively. She shook her hooded cape, revealing a length of her tumbledown dark curls. "Aye, tis worth ma whole life to hear ye say it... !"

This seemed to throw Malcolm. He looked at her with perplexed eyes. Just for a minute, she thought he had seen her - recognized her for who she was. But it was hard to be sure.

Mal fell silent. He appeared to be thinking. Before he could get in, edgeways, Ainslee spoke up.

"Look into my eyes, aye, ye'll ken me, look," she implored him, flashing with her brown eyes. Just then, a late ray of sun escaped from behind the cloud. Now he could look properly.

Ainslee stayed in place, freezing before Malcolm's gaze. He stood there, still as granite. At last, he gave a little gasp. Ainslee could wait no more.

"Mal!" she cried, but faintly. Now, with her wavy hair around her face, she watched him.

If he did not see before, now he did.

Malcolm's eyes opened some more.

Finally, she had him.

"A...Ainslee?"

* * *

It couldn't be.