The Rebel Read Free

I’ve been sleeping all day,” she argued, “and I’m hungry.”
    He halted at the curtain, while she waited uneasily for his response, wishing she knew what he meant to do with her.
    At last, he glanced over his shoulder. “Follow me, then. You may sit at the table for a while and have some supper.”
    With that, he passed through the curtain and held it aloft, his eyes never leaving hers as he waited for her to join him.
    o0o
    “What’s your name, Highlander?” Elizabeth asked, wincing with pain as she used her teeth to tear meat off a juicy chicken leg. She had to chew slowly and with great care, otherwise she might end up rolling in agony on the floor.
    “Are you all right, lass?” he asked from the opposite side of the table. “You look uncomfortable. Here. Take some more of this.”
    He handed her the bottle of whisky again, and she welcomed the opportunity to wash down her supper. A moment later, however, she had to wrestle with an unbidden wave of giddiness and laughter. It was a potent spirit indeed.
    “Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked, setting the bottle down.
    “Will it make you reveal your secrets?”
    Elizabeth wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “I assure you, I have none. I’ve already told you everything.”
    “I doubt that.”
    She tore off another morsel of the tender, succulent meat. “And you still haven’t told me your name.”
    He eyed her warily. “Nor have you told me yours.”
    A log shifted in the grate, and bright sparks of firelight flew up the chimney while they regarded each other with challenge from opposite sides of the table.
    “I am Alexander MacLean,” he said at last. “I hail from the Isle of Mull.”
    “Duart Castle?”
    “Aye,” he replied. “Now tell me yours.”
    She sat back in the chair. “I am Elizabeth Curtis, and I hail from Portsmouth.”
    His green eyes narrowed. “You’re a long way from home, lassie.”
    “I have no home. What remained of my family came north to fight in this rebellion, but they’re all dead now – all except for one. So here I am. Alone and… seeking vengeance I suppose.”
    “Who is this one you speak of?”
    “My uncle. He is a book merchant in Edinburgh, but I have not seen him since I was a child.”
    The Highlander shifted lower in a lazy sprawl, and glanced down at the knife he had given her to use with her supper. “Have you always been so bold?” he asked. “So full of daring?”
    “Yes.”
    The corner of his mouth curled up in a small grin of seductive allure. “I find you very intriguing, Elizabeth Curtis. No woman has ever attacked me with such… passion before.”
    She couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Be careful, sir. I told you I was seeking vengeance, and if I grow weary of your questions or insinuations, I may decide to attack you again.”
    He spoke with a heated grin, holding his hands out to the side. ““Be my guest, but do not forget - I saved your life on that battlefield. I carried you into the woods and stole one of your King’s horses for you, then I held you across my lap for mile after mile while we plodded through rivers and glades together. If anything, you owe me a great debt.”
    Elizabeth slanted a look at him. “Are you flirting with me?”
    Just then, something pleasant and unfamiliar warmed the flow of blood through her veins.
    Alex leaned forward. “What if I were? Would it be enough to make you promise not to use that supper knife on me? Or heaven forbid, that razor-sharp bayonet of yours?”
    “I don’t have my bayonet,” she replied, looking around for it. “I have nothing.”
    “Nay, lass, that’s not true. You have your wits, and you’re moderately pleasant to look at.”
    “Moderately pleasant?” She laughed again. Perhaps it was the whisky. “What a charmer you are.”
    The firelight reflected in the deep green of his eyes, and she ran the tip of her tongue across her lips, wondering how she could be carrying on in such a way with a man who