The Scot's Pursuit - Keira Montclair Page 0,2

intending to mimic a bleating sheep.

He saw it. Just a slight twitch in the edges of her mouth, though she recovered quickly.

“You cannot take it back,” he said, returning his features to normal. “I saw it. You nearly smiled.”

She sighed and relented a bit to his charm, or so he thought. Wished? “Forgive me, but I’m not interested in dancing. I don’t dance.”

“My name is Alick. Your name, lass?”

She sighed again, not quite as deeply, then said, “Branwen Denton. My uncle is the Earl of Thane, a neighboring laird of yours, and I’m here strictly to keep an eye on my younger brother. I’m not allowed to dance or consort with anyone.”

“Neighbor?” he asked, thinking of all the closest clans. It took him a moment to place the name. “About two hours away?” Not exactly a neighboring clan, but not far off either. Her assessment suggested that she rarely traveled outside Thane land.

She nodded but did not speak, instead looking away again. Fear flashed through her eyes as she scanned the hall filled with people.

Who was she afraid of?

He vowed to find out.

***

Branwen searched the area for her brother, but she didn’t see him. At ten winters, he often got himself into trouble, hence her father’s decision to bring her along. The Grant festivities always drew many visitors from those who lived this far in the Highlands. Before her mother had passed away, they’d come occasionally, but she hadn’t left Thane land once since her mother’s death two years ago. When her sire went somewhere, she was usually left at home with a list of chores.

She often wondered what was worse—chores or having to spend time with her father?

Her memories of Grant festivals were filled with braw Highland warriors. She’d loved watching the competitions, something her father had disapproved of even back then, but on her last visit to Grant land, probably three years ago, she and her mother had snuck away to peek at the warriors from the top of the curtain wall. Watching the sword-fighting, log-tossing, and horseback riding had kept her totally occupied for hours. Her mother had pointed out a few men who would make acceptable husbands for her someday, but Branwen had no memory of them. They’d all looked the same from the top of the wall. Most were tall and broad-shouldered lads who liked to shout and bellow. She hadn’t seen the attraction back then.

Now she did. But she forced herself to ignore the handsome man in front of her and check on her brother, the reason she was here.

Roy loved to dance, and she finally caught sight of him in the center of several older lasses, putting on a show. Their sire did not look to be in the hall, and she suspected he was probably out in the courtyard, where the men often discussed King Edward and the Scottish king, Robert the Bruce, conversations she was “too female to understand.” Or so her sire said.

She tried not to look at the tall Highlander in front of her, but his smile was quite a temptation. It had awakened something inside of her. She’d never seen such a handsome man, from his long dark red hair to his green eyes dancing with laughter. Surely he had the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen, though the Grant warriors were all big men, much bigger than the men at her uncle’s castle. None of the men fighting outside the walls of the castle had drawn her on her last visit.

This man…she could barely pull her gaze from him.

And he’d almost made her laugh. Which was something she never did anymore.

Her laugher had dried up after her dear mother had passed two years ago.

She’d already heard this braw man’s laughter carry across the hall—he’d been teasing a bunch of young lassies by twirling them ridiculously fast, and they’d loved him for it. She’d wished to join in, but even if she had not been ordered to keep to herself and do her duty, she wouldn’t have dared for fear of looking silly. She didn’t know how to act like that, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She, unfortunately, had many.

Hadn’t her mother told her she’d marry a kind Highlander? A man like this? One just like those men who’d been competing outside the castle walls years ago?

Of course, that dream had fizzled long ago. Now that her mother was gone, she was little more than a nanny and a maid to her two younger