Page 5 of A Rogue and a Noble Lass

She lived in a time when heroes were made and legends were forged, and she did not want to miss out on account of her youth.

Finally she was able to return and join the ranks of the guards. While her parents were wary, they were not in a position to refuse her wishes. They also knew that it would not have done any good. There were plenty of other armies to join, and they eventually decided it was better to keep her close rather than send her elsewhere.

She licked her lips in anticipation as she waved at the farmers and merchants. They cried out her name. One of the farmers tossed her an apple and she plucked it out of the air. The fruit was sweet and crunchy.

It was good to be home. And home was what they were all fighting for.

A shadow had fallen across the Highlands and Laird Warnock still lived, plotting evil. His schemes had been defeated so far, but until he was slain there would always be a taint upon the land, and nowhere was safe.

Villages had burned.

People of all ages had been slaughtered.

Everyone had a harrowing tale and there was nobody who had not been without loss.

The alliance was holding steady, but Beitris knew how precarious peace could be. It might only take one battle or one death to shift the tides, and everything would change.

She would not lose everything her parents had built, and it angered her that there was a man selfish enough to want to tear it all apart. Who was Warnock, and why should he get to ruin things for everyone else?

He should be dead by now, and Nessa had bemoaned that she hadn’t killed him when she had the opportunity. He was like a serpent, she said, always slithering away into a hole.

Well, if Beitris had him in her sights she would not allow him to survive. Not with her new bow.

She rode into the courtyard and left her horse at the stables, greeting the grooms and stablehands with a cheeky smile and a flourished curtsey.

“I’m sure ye hae all awaited my return,” Beitris said.

They chuckled. “Aye, as I recall we paid for yer drinks before yer left. I think ye owe us,” one of the grooms called out.

Beitris raised her hand. “Just let me hae a word with Da first. I need tae ken if the clan can afford such a debt. I hae seen how much ye drink,” she winked, and then placed her quiver over her shoulder and marched towards the training grounds.

Her parents could wait. She wanted to show off her pride and joy.

The guards were busy training. The air was thick with grunting and sweat and the sound of steel against steel. It was a cacophony and Beitris looked upon them with pride, knowing that this was her army, the one in which she would be riding into battle, using her arrows to defend and attack.

As she grew closer there was one warrior who caught her eye.

He moved with surprising speed, twisting between three attackers. He had such skill that he made it seem as though they were at a disadvantage, despite them possessing the greater numbers.

What also drew her attention—though she would never admit it—was that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His body was thick and muscular, glistening with sweat. As he turned all the hard angles were highlighted and it caused interest to spike within her.

There was a deep ache that she was beginning to become familiar with.

Now that she was a woman there were so many things she had to get used to. The attraction to men was one of them, and she knew her type. She was not one for any wilting flowers, no, she wanted a strong man, a warrior who was capable of fighting off an army with his bare hands.

Beitris sauntered forward and stood beside the captain. Donal’s nose was more crooked than she remembered.

“Looks as though the men are well trained as always.”

“Welcome back, my lady. Aye, I will nae let them slack,” he replied.

“I see ye hae welcomed new recruits. Who is that one?” she asked, gesturing with her bow to the mysterious, powerful storm of flesh and steel.

The shape of his biceps was apparent as he brought his sword to bear. He turned and she allowed her gaze to drift down the bed of hair that rippled across his chest and abdomen. He kicked out at one man, thrust his sword at another, and caught the third mid-strike, hauling the man over his back and slamming him to the ground. Within a heartbeat three men had been defeated, and Beitris felt her heart flutter.

“We call him Grimhand. I hae named him as my second. He hae proven himself tae be a champion. I would nae be surprised if his presence hae tipped the war in our favor.”

Donal did not give respect easily, so Beitris arched her eyebrows.