Highland Deception (Highland Pride) Read Free Page A

bleeding and sew up the injury, which was smaller than it had first appeared.
    The boy grabbed a sword that had fallen to the ground. He nodded at Maggie and stood, then took up a position to defend them if an attacker came their way. Brave one. She concentrated on the wound, her practiced fingers steady as they moved.
    She paid no attention as the fighting raged around her and was hardly aware when it fell to just a couple of weapons clanging. As she wiped at the sweat on her brow, she realized blood likely covered the side that had not been muddied earlier, but she didn’t care. Some part of her recognized she could not let this man die, and her gut clenched—he reminded her too much of her younger brother, Roland.
    When she was confident the wound was sufficiently stitched and the blood loss had stopped, she took out the small dirk she kept in her bag. She gently sliced off the edge of the sutures, then leaned back on her knees to take in her work and give it a final inspection.
    He would be all right; she would just need to get some clean water to wash the gash. Satisfied, she lifted the dirk to assess and wipe it before putting it away, because she always took care to see everything in her bag was kept as clean as possible.
    Something rushed her, and she was suddenly soaring backward through the air. The dirk fell from her hands with the force, and her head hit something with a great thud.
    Pain exploded in her skull. Blinding white light was all she saw, and then her focus returned. She was choking. Although she reached out to pull the weight off her neck, it was useless.
    Maggie stared at her attacker. It was the leader of the first group. Oddly, she noticed his dimple was missing as he throttled her with fury. If she could breathe, she’d laugh at that realization.
    His steely eyes were dilated and the most striking blue she’d ever seen, a shade or two lighter than hers. They looked like deceptively peaceful water, beautiful but dangerous. She found herself drowning in them, and then everything went dark.

Chapter Two
    Lachlan turned from Nathair’s lifeless body to see the fighting was done. He quickly scanned the area and took stock of his men to make sure they were all standing. One was missing. Who?
    He cursed. His brother, Malcolm. Lachlan’s veins turned to ice—he never should have allowed the lad on this journey. He frantically searched the fallen and found him near a small figure, a boy, leaning over him with a dirk.
    Someone was going to kill his brother. Lachlan didn’t think, he just ran. Before the boy could bring the knife down, Lachlan had his hand around the murderer’s neck and pinned into a nearby tree.
    A loud crack reverberated as the skull made contact with the trunk. So full of bloodlust, he hardly heard his men calling out for him to stop. Two of them managed to wrestle him to the ground before he could kill the boy. Robbie stood above him and shouted something, but Lachlan couldn’t make out the words. He struggled as his men held him down.
    “Lachlan. Nae. Stop.” He heard but refused to obey.
    He tried to get up to finish what he had started, to make sure the murderer would never harm Malcolm again. “Stop,” Alan ordered. “He may have saved Malcolm. Ye have to calm down. The lad saved him.”
    As the words sank in, Lachlan stilled. Alan, Dougal, and Seamus relaxed their hold and allowed him to sit. His fury had been so fierce, it had obviously taken three of his strongest men to take him down.
    “This isnae a lad,” Finlay chimed in. He stood over the crumpled body.
    The well-worn hat lay discarded next to a shoulder.
    A girl. Dressed as a man.
    Long, jet-black hair had been carefully plaited and pinned up but had fallen free of the silly hat she’d used to conceal the thick braid. Long, delicate fingers and small wrists were exposed beneath the dirty white shirt she wore.
    “What do ye mean, Finlay?” Alan jumped up and cautiously ambled over to look at the crumpled