Highland Promise Read Free

tongue and brought the horse under control. Then the warrior turned and pierced her with slate gray eyes that could freeze a summer pond. He spoke harshly in what she assumed must be his heathen Gaelic language. He had dark hair with a tendency to curl that flowed over his shoulders. She thought sending him ahead alone might be a good plan. Surely his glare could fell her brother's entire army.
            Faith jumped to her feet and backed away, looking at the other men. They appeared civilized in dress, wearing trews and tunics with bright plaids angled across their chests sash-style. She had expected them to be half-naked heathens from all the stories she had heard. Though only one of them had a beard and seemed a normal-sized man, all their garments displayed snugness of fit that proclaimed brute strength. And it was brute strength they appeared to be barely restraining at the moment. All these Highlanders had ferocious faces and looked as if they would like to take turns using her for sword practice.
            Her gaze fell to their mounts, less than three arm-lengths in front of her. One, a big black stallion, lacked a rider. She wondered if the horse had eaten his master. From the beast's fierce expression, she worried he might think her his next meal.
            Faith took another step back and cleared her throat while her wideeyed stare fixed upon the horses. "You must not go farther down this trail. An ambush awaits you."
            The man with gray eyes perused her body, then spoke gibberish to the others. They snorted and grunted in reply. Faith knew she looked a fright. The padding that expanded her girth and the flour that dulled her complexion and hair made her ugly enough on a normal day. After her hurried trek through the woods, she could only imagine the additional damage from dirt and rents.
            "One of you must speak English." How could she make them understand the danger if they couldn't understand her words?
            Another warrior with white blond hair and hazel eyes barked an order, then nudged his mount to pass her. She scrambled out of his path as her heart raced. "Rats! You are heathens after all. How can I help you if you do not understand God's English?"
            They all jerked their mounts to a halt and glared. The gray-eyed warrior rode toward her and stopped an arm's reach away. Her eyes focused on his steed's flaring nostrils, and she gulped. Warm blood oozed from her palms as her fingernails dug deeper, but she held her ground.
            He leaned forward and pierced her with his gaze. "God had nothing to do with the making of English, lass. 'Tis the Devil's own tongue."
            Why, the brutes had understood her all along. She glared up at him. "Then I should wonder that you choose to commit such a grievous sin by speaking it. Surely the Almighty will send a lightning bolt from heaven and render you dead at any moment."
            He snapped his mouth shut and his glower grew fiercer—a feat she'd have not believed possible if she hadn't seen the transformation.
            She'd had enough and settled her hands on her hips. "Do not dare go mute on me, you big lummox. I have risked my own neck by coming here. 'Twould be safer for you to skirt this holding and cut through Baron Rothley's land. 'Twill add but a few hours to your journey, and you will be alive when you return to the trail on the other side."
            The other giants converged on her. They didn't scare her as was their obvious intent. Their mounts had already accomplished that for them. Surrounded by several tons of sinewy horseflesh, she labored for breath and sweat popped out on her brow.
            "This is a trick. The lass is lying," another warrior said.
            He obviously chose to speak English so she would understand his accusation and be frightened. Faith didn't look up to discover the identity of her accuser