Highland Defiance - By Sky Purington Page 0,17
though.”
What?“Who?”
“Chieftain Bruce knows everything,” James said matter-of-factly.
“Bruce,” she murmured. “Not Adlin.”
James smiled and nodded. “Laird Bruce is kind and good. You need not worry.”
She didn’t miss the way his young voice wobbled when he said it nor the stiffening of his posture. Was he simply saying what he was supposed to? The wind blew up. Fear flooded her veins. Her palms grew sweaty. Should she run in the opposite direction? But where would she ultimately go? She’d been plopped back in Scotland and James had—however unknowing—been the one there to greet her. That must mean something.
“Are you cold then, lass?”
Mildred shook her head and tried not to shiver. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
Another shrug from the boy and he continued. “The castle’s just up yonder.”
“What clan is it you belong to again?”
The boy looked at her as though she’d sprung an extra head. “The MacLomain clan.”
He seemed quite sure. Yet how was that possible? The land was considerably different here. Colder, harsher, there existed more rock than trees. Wind blew strong through what was quickly becoming a scarce forest until the trees all but vanished and they walked on a barren path over craggy rock.
Inch by inch a castle appeared over the horizon. Thoroughly chilled and underdressed, Mildred could admit the place, though stern, appeared welcoming. Fear was not an emotion she allowed herself as they trudged closer. But what she wouldn’t do to be home. Or even to have Adlin here. A man she’d only just met! Still, she knew she’d feel far safer.
“They see we’re coming.” James nodded at the castle.
Mildred stopped short. They knew alright.
Twenty armed men were riding their way.
Chapter Four
It took everything she had not to turn and run. But what good would it do to turn her back to what came her way? Thunderous, the men slowed and formed a circle around them. All well-muscled and well-armed, they wore the same sort of garb Adlin had, yet their plaids were a different color.
One man trotted his horse forward a little closer, obviously trying to intimidate her. “Who’s the lass, boy?”
James’ eyes grew round and he glanced from Mildred to the man. “Never did get her name, my laird.” His lip quivered. “But I can tell you she’s no faery.”
The men chuckled, all that is except the one who did the questioning. She wouldn’t call him unhandsome. No doubt he’d once been quite glorious. Now, he possessed an unfortunate fierceness. From this angle his hair appeared dirty blond, his deep-set eyes severely dark. Broad shouldered, he blocked out the sun.
Slowly, methodically, his intense eyes roamed over her. Lord, what must he be thinking of her pants? “Give your name, lass. Why are you here?”
Should she tell them she knew Adlin? No, best to remain vague until she had more facts. Mildred made to speak but her voice caught. Not good. She cleared her throat, stood tall and kept her gaze locked with his. “Mildred. I’m lost.”
The men mumbled in a foreign dialect. The man, Bruce she assumed, shook his head sharply and they quieted. When he swung down from his horse, Mildred locked her legs so she wouldn’t instinctually step back. This was a man she knew she shouldn’t show fear in front of. Not easy though.
Quite tall but not as tall as Adlin, he again looked her up and down. From this proximity she realized that his eyes were not black but a very dark brown. His features were striking but harsh and weather-worn. She sensed that he was in his twenties but looked more like he was in his late thirties, early forties.
“I’ll ask again, why are you here?” he said.
“Because I am lost.”
“Verra lost I’d say.” His eyes shot from her pants to her face. “What do you wear?”
What did she wear? What would make sense? “Traveling clothes. I’m from the south you see.”
“One from the lowlands th—,” said a random man.
Bruce scowled and he stopped mid-sentence. But she’d been given enough information.
Though she couldn’t put the inflection of the Scots in her voice she replied, “Nay, a highland clan. The MacLomains.”
Mentioning Adlin would be her best course of action after all.
She hoped.
Eyes narrowed slightly, Bruce’s jaw hitched slightly. “The MacLomains you say. And why is it I should believe you?”
Mildred thought fast and hoped she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. “Because you know the way Chieftain Adlin thinks. It would not be beyond him to send a strange woman to soften the blow of his arrival.”
The