True to the Highlander(10)

“She’s under my protection.” Malcolm frowned. “Why would I make the vow and then put her life at risk?”

Liam grinned. “Have you told her she has your protection?”

“Shite. I offered my aid as I would to any wayfaring soul, but no’ my protection specifically. Best do so now.” Malcolm dismounted and went after her. When she saw him coming, she rose from the ground and headed in the opposite direction. He quickened his pace and caught up, placing a hand on her shoulder to turn her around.

She shook him off and moved out of his reach. “Go away, and leave me alone.”

He stepped in front of her, only to have her turn her back to him again. Their odd little dance continued until he was filled with helpless frustration. “Hold still, ye wee termagant. You were no’ in any danger.”

She spun around to face him, her eyes wide. “There were swords drawn, and…and battle cries shouted. How was I supposed to know I wasn’t in danger?”

“As long as you are on MacKintosh land, you are under my protection.” Malcolm’s gut twisted. She made an incredulous sound, but at least the hurt he’d glimpsed in her eyes turned to something more akin to fury. Fury he could deal with. “You will trust me in the future.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” She snorted. “Aren’t you the same guy who carried me off and left my violin behind? Do you have any idea what would happen to my instrument if it rained? You have no idea what it means to me,” she said, her voice breaking.

“I know nothing of this Guy fellow and even less of violins. I intended to have someone return to fetch your belongings once we reached home.”

“And I was supposed to know this how?” She crossed her arms in front of her and shot arrows at him with her eyes. “You tied my hands—not exactly a trust-inspiring gesture.”

“You used them to put me to sleep. I had no choice.” Malcolm took a small step closer.

“You pulled my hair.” Alethia threw her hands up in the air. “Who does that?”

“My finger still pains me from the injury you inflicted.” Another step. “So does my lip.”

“What did you expect me to do? You kissed me.”

“I might kiss you again just to stop your tongue from wagging.”

Alethia gasped and blinked several times. “Because you want your upper lip to have a matching set of teeth marks?”

Malcolm bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. “You dinna fear me at all, do you, lass?” Her brow creased as she stared up at him. Malcolm felt as if she were reading his soul and wondered what she saw there.

“No. I guess I don’t.” She said the words as if they surprised her. “You told the truth when you said you don’t mean me any harm, and you meant what you said about how the MacKintosh treat women.” Alethia shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“Your lack of fear will suffice for now.” Malcolm drew her into his arms and kissed her, pulling back quickly enough to avoid getting bitten.

She shoved him away with both hands. “Why do you keep doing that?”

Her cheeks colored, and his breath caught in his throat. She was like the wild roses growing in the dales, lovely and thorny all at once. “Because it pleases me.”

She huffed, gave him her back and hurried off toward the group getting ready to cross the loch. “Well, it doesn’t please me,” she shouted.

Malcolm watched the sway of her hips and her braid bouncing back and forth as she moved. He threw his head back and laughed. By the saints, their exchange exhilarated him in ways he’d never before experienced. Goading Lady Alethia could well become his favorite pastime. Sharp teeth and a sharp wit—a rare lass indeed.




“Robley, Liam, to my father.” Malcolm set Alethia’s belongings on the trestle table in the great hall and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Stay here until I send someone to fetch you.”

“Where else would I go?”

Malcolm didn’t like the forlorn tone in her voice. He watched as her eyes roamed around the hall like she’d never before seen the like. Mayhap people lived differently where she came from. Curiosity had been eating away at him since he first laid eyes on her, but now was not the time for questions. His father waited.

With his cousins at his heels, he took the narrow stone stairs two at a time. Knocking at his father’s solar door, Malcolm paused briefly before entering. William rose from the table where he sat with his brother, Malcolm’s uncle Robert.

“Son, nephews, ’tis good to have you home safe.” He gave Malcolm a brief embrace and gestured for them to sit. “What news from old Archibald?”