the wounded, she wanted to wash the blood and filth away and quench her thirst. After a quiet morning, this day seemed to grow more and more disastrous. Tomorrow promised to be more of the same. If she survived the night.
Chapter 2
The camp noises faded from Duncan’s thoughts. He and his men had killed the main body of the MacNairn party that had captured his beloved sister and her handmaiden. He’d only needed to find and kill the rest of the raiding party and retrieve the girls. He stared at their prisoner skeptically.
When he first spotted the raiding party across the glen with the women, rage filled every corner of his being. As he and his men charged toward the band, a stranger stepped from the trees and dropped three of the enemy by bow before the raiders could react. Another fell before the mysterious ally had drawn swords. Instead of a long sword, claymore, or axe, he’d wielded two falchions, his movements fluid as he avoided the first attack. Striking the sword arm of the attacker, he then delivered the killing blow. The last MacNairn fared no better. Parrying the attack, the mysterious stranger quickly cut the bastard down.
Reining in his horse several paces away, Duncan had immediately noticed the stranger wasn’t a man, but a woman. Impossible! Had he not seen the whole thing played out before him, he never would have believed it. However, ’twas true. This strange woman stopped six Highland warriors with a deadly effectiveness he’d never witnessed before.
Such skill! Such bravery! Never have I seen a woman best a man in combat—much less six men! Heat slid through his veins. And the bonniest I have ever seen. No pampered lily, this lass, but vital, compelling—alive.
Her expressive eyes, the color of green only found in nature, reminded him of faerie stories his mam told him as a wean. They reflected strength and courage—viridescent eyes sparking anger.
Long black hair reached her waist, held in a braid thick as his wrist. Her smooth complexion glowed, tanned by time in the sun. The high cheekbones, strong nose and chin, and kissable lips all added up to striking beauty. She’d finished treating his wounded with skills one would expect to have taken half a lifetime to master. His own clan healer was not nearly as proficient, and the old crone had seen many winters.
She claims to be a Scot, but her dress and mannerisms claim her as English. She is, however, well-spoken in Gaelic. For some reason, the lass had a fine teacher . A mystery. Unfortunately, a mystery he would unlikely solve, as his father gave Shamus permission to avenge his brother’s shoulder injury. Fool. His brother faces punishment for disobeying his laird by firing upon the lass, particularly since she’d saved my sister . Discipline must be maintained. He’d fought in too many battles not to know the lesson well. As captain, it fell to him to see all obeyed without question. Including himself.
I owe her a life-debt . The conundrum twisted him inside. He knew his father did not wish to sentence the woman to death, but could not ignore clan law. Should I support my kinsman or the lass I just met? Smiling inside from a feeling he didn’t quite understand, he sincerely hoped this Anna survived the night.
He watched her glance about—no doubt searching for a way past him—but ignored her questions about captivity for he had no answer to offer. His only orders were to disarm and detain her. Her body stiffened, fists clenched, a vision of anger. He swallowed the smile on his face when she spun toward him.
“Sir, do you wish me to attend the women? I can treat any injuries they may have sustained.” She wielded her sharp tongue with the same ruthless precision as a blade. The play of emotions on her face, as changing as the clouds above, beguiled him.
He took advantage of the opportunity to gaze at her before answering. “’Tis not necessary. They were not injured.”
She responded with a slight squint and nod. Did
Chapter 2
The camp noises faded from Duncan’s thoughts. He and his men had killed the main body of the MacNairn party that had captured his beloved sister and her handmaiden. He’d only needed to find and kill the rest of the raiding party and retrieve the girls. He stared at their prisoner skeptically.
When he first spotted the raiding party across the glen with the women, rage filled every corner of his being. As he and his men charged toward the band, a stranger stepped from the trees and dropped three of the enemy by bow before the raiders could react. Another fell before the mysterious ally had drawn swords. Instead of a long sword, claymore, or axe, he’d wielded two falchions, his movements fluid as he avoided the first attack. Striking the sword arm of the attacker, he then delivered the killing blow. The last MacNairn fared no better. Parrying the attack, the mysterious stranger quickly cut the bastard down.
Reining in his horse several paces away, Duncan had immediately noticed the stranger wasn’t a man, but a woman. Impossible! Had he not seen the whole thing played out before him, he never would have believed it. However, ’twas true. This strange woman stopped six Highland warriors with a deadly effectiveness he’d never witnessed before.
Such skill! Such bravery! Never have I seen a woman best a man in combat—much less six men! Heat slid through his veins. And the bonniest I have ever seen. No pampered lily, this lass, but vital, compelling—alive.
Her expressive eyes, the color of green only found in nature, reminded him of faerie stories his mam told him as a wean. They reflected strength and courage—viridescent eyes sparking anger.
Long black hair reached her waist, held in a braid thick as his wrist. Her smooth complexion glowed, tanned by time in the sun. The high cheekbones, strong nose and chin, and kissable lips all added up to striking beauty. She’d finished treating his wounded with skills one would expect to have taken half a lifetime to master. His own clan healer was not nearly as proficient, and the old crone had seen many winters.
She claims to be a Scot, but her dress and mannerisms claim her as English. She is, however, well-spoken in Gaelic. For some reason, the lass had a fine teacher . A mystery. Unfortunately, a mystery he would unlikely solve, as his father gave Shamus permission to avenge his brother’s shoulder injury. Fool. His brother faces punishment for disobeying his laird by firing upon the lass, particularly since she’d saved my sister . Discipline must be maintained. He’d fought in too many battles not to know the lesson well. As captain, it fell to him to see all obeyed without question. Including himself.
I owe her a life-debt . The conundrum twisted him inside. He knew his father did not wish to sentence the woman to death, but could not ignore clan law. Should I support my kinsman or the lass I just met? Smiling inside from a feeling he didn’t quite understand, he sincerely hoped this Anna survived the night.
He watched her glance about—no doubt searching for a way past him—but ignored her questions about captivity for he had no answer to offer. His only orders were to disarm and detain her. Her body stiffened, fists clenched, a vision of anger. He swallowed the smile on his face when she spun toward him.
“Sir, do you wish me to attend the women? I can treat any injuries they may have sustained.” She wielded her sharp tongue with the same ruthless precision as a blade. The play of emotions on her face, as changing as the clouds above, beguiled him.
He took advantage of the opportunity to gaze at her before answering. “’Tis not necessary. They were not injured.”
She responded with a slight squint and nod. Did
Similar Books
The Blackham Mansion Haunting (The Downwinders Book 4)
Michael Richan
Carola Dunn
The Actressand the Rake
A Textbook Case
Jeffery Deaver
The Protector of Esparia (The Annals of Esparia Book 1)
Lisa M. Wilson
The Green Mile
Stephen King
Unintentional Virgin
A.J. Bennett
Celtic Moon
Jan DeLima
Afternoon Delight
Kayla Perrin