Page 194 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

As she did, her eyes strayed to Malcolm. He too was leaving his horse, to lean into James, where he seemed to be having an intense chat.

"What is it?" said Ainslee, suspicious. She saw her friend glance to James and began to feel somehow as if she had been set up. "Has he told ye to talk to me?" she asked.

Marisse looked at her, distracted. "Wheesht!" but she glanced at James, before drawing a stray hair from her face, and shaking her head. "Yer bum's oot the window, lass, if ye think I'd do anything for him... I wouldnae e'en piddle on him if he were on fire!"

Ainslee raised her brows, but said nothing. Instead, she looked back at Marisse.

"One thing, though, he did say," she began, concedingly. "Is that we need to stay together... this road if awfu' dangerous... wi' brigands and robbers from all around. It would be awfu' daft o' us nae to accept this escort..."

"Hum," said Ainslee, not convinced. "Because, it's nae as if we didnae come doon here on oor own, yesterday?"

Her brows arched pertinently to Marisse, who sniffed.

"Aye, an' we were lucky, that time," she said, fixing Ainslee with her most persuasive stare. "An' anyhoo, there's more to it than that..."

Thought so.

Ainslee watched her friend closely. But the declaration she was expecting did not come.

"Ye see, James has been telling me...o' hoo Malcolm is determined to take his place... as the head o' the clan. An' ye an' me both ken... that Laird Bruce is nae good for any o' us... I mean, Ainslee, look at the way he treated ye!"

Marisse's big blue eyes looked imploringly at her. Ainslee felt the full force of them scorch and burn her. There was no escape.

"Aye," said Ainslee, wondering where this was going. "And?"

"And," said Marisse, watching her imploringly. "We can do something about it...Ainslee, lass, we need to unite wi' yer Malcolm - at least for the good o' the clan... We must support him, an' help him become laird..."

Ainslee grumbled a bit, but could not really argue. "I ken," she said, simply. "Braw. I will support Malcolm to be the laird... but that is all!"

Her eyes sparkled with indignation. She did not believe anything Malcolm had told her. But even so, she had to accept him as her laird.

Nudging her arm, Marisse looked up with a nod. Ainslee looked over.

There was Malcolm.

With a rippling grin, he came closer. The wind parted his hair, illuminating it in hues of red gold. Ainslee could not help staring.

She had missed him, and wished she didn't. Now he was here, larger than life and just too much for her to cope with. She turned her head before she saw any more.

But all her posturing came to nothing. Mal simply stood before her, a twinkle in his emerald green eyes, and smiled.

"So then, ladies, are we ready maybe to continue oor ride?"

And right then, Ainslee knew she still wanted him. But she'd be damned if let him know.

Malcolm Duncan could rot.

* * *

"So then, hen? How's the village? Yer father still in his shop?"

This time, Malcolm chose his words more carefully. Focusing down on Ainslee, Malcolm waited for the awkwardness to settle and smiled.

The coastal path inched gradually inland, taking with it the dramatic cliffs and irate seagulls. A different air, more sheltered and scented hit them.

Malcolm turned to Ainslee brightly, on his horse. He wore his best smile, but she was not worn down that easily. All the same, he tried.

"Father is just the same, thank ye, but I cannae say the same aboot the clan!" she replied, through narrowed eyes.