Highland Promise Read Free Page A

though. She couldn't take her eyes off the savage horses that were close enough to bite or trample her should they take the notion.
            "Of course I am telling the truth. I am going to be a nun, so I cannot lie." Anger replaced her fear, and she scowled up at them. "I believe I am offended by the lot of you and your lack of trust."
            "Faith, would you ask us to believe you trust us?" the blond warrior asked, raising a dubious brow.
            "I have to trust you. I am hoping you will aid me in return, and I did not give you leave to call me by my given name." She gasped. "How do you know my name?"
            "This is trickery," the gray-eyed warrior said. "No Sassenach would ask a Highlander for help."
            "She would if she wanted escort into Scotland to the convent at Saint Bride," Faith countered. "And how do you know my name?"
            Gray-eyes raked her up and down from her tightly bound hair with lopsided wimple to her frayed kirtle hem. The man had the gall to snort. "I'll grant you are ugly enough that you'll not find a husband, but—"
            Faith stomped her foot. "Rats! Would you listen to me? My brother is waiting down the trail with sixty soldiers. His intent is to butcher you."
            A black-haired warrior shook his head. "Did you hear that, laird? The lass has insulted us twice now by calling us rats."
            "I did not call you—"
            "You cannot blame the lass, Luthias," one of the other brutes said. "Roland started it by ignoring her, and Michael continued it by calling her ugly."
            So the blond was Roland, gray-eyes was Michael, and black-hair was Luthias. She grudgingly admitted they would be handsome if not for their mean glowers and grouchy dispositions.
            "Well, she is ugly," Michael insisted. "And I do not trust her. She is English after all. 'Tis probably her task to lead us into an ambush."
            "Notice her frock?" the bearded man asked. His accent rang different than the others to Faith's ears, though she couldn't say why.
            "Aye, Tormey," Roland replied. "'Tis an ugly garment that has seen better days to be sure, but the fabric is fine. We might get a few coins for her. You want to take her, laird?"
            Faith gasped as her ignored fears and misgivings about her mission arose to bite her like an angry wolf. She refused to show them her fear though. "Why, you...you...you are not taking me anywhere right now. Ride down the trail and get butchered. See if I weep over your ungrateful hides."
            She whirled around and ran—smack into a tree. She stumbled backward. Two giant branches reached out and caught her. Her eyes focused on a plaid strip crossing a tunic on a massive chest. Oh Lord, it wasn't a tree, but a very solid giant. She gripped his arms in desperation, realizing he could see her trepidation if she remained frozen and decided she'd better look at him before he got the notion she was a coward and really tried to keep her.
            Faith raised her gaze until her head tipped all the way back. Fiery eyes of the deepest blue seared into hers. She couldn't look away. Her breath hitched. A strange fluttering filled her stomach. She barely noticed the strong, square jaw or the light blond hair flowing over the giant's shoulders. She couldn't seem to get her mouth to shut either. What in heaven's name was wrong with her? Her papa and faithful maid had kept her well-shielded from men since her disastrous fall from grace. This was how a woman responded to a man, was it? How could anyone carry on a decent conversation or play chess if they had to worry about being ill?
            Amusement gamboled in the blue eyes. The warrior's hands tightened upon her waist, then lifted her to his eye level.
            Faith gasped as her feet left the ground. She quickly looked down, then back at her captor