The Scot's Pursuit - Keira Montclair Page 0,5

“You’ll have to help me.”

He demonstrated a few new steps, and before she knew it, they were both dancing so fast she feared she’d trip over her own feet. “’Tis not verra nice of you,” he remarked, very serious looking.

“What?” she asked in confusion, worried she’d caused him offense.

“You’re dancing better than I am.” Then he laughed. “I was only jesting. Don’t be so serious all the time.”

She laughed with him, picking up the steps again. They carried on until they were both breathless, but then her father’s voice rang out over the courtyard.

“Branwen? Come back here immediately.”

Her eyes widened, the command in his voice freezing her in her tracks. She stared at Alick, wishing their time together hadn’t been so short. She’d have to return and accept her punishment. Her shoulders fell and she turned around slowly, but then something her mother had said long ago popped into her mind. “Some opportunities will never come your way again, lass. You must make the most of what the Lord gives you. When He gives you a gift, do not deny Him.”

Her father was already angry. What would it matter if she stayed out a little longer, spent another quarter hour with Alick Grant? She might never see him again.

A swoosh of the wind came out of nowhere, making her giggle, something she’d done very little since losing her mother.

They’d both loved the wind, and although her father had called them mad, they would sometimes stand outside when the air was whipping around, arms outstretched as if to embrace it. Her mother had always said her favorite part was the way the wind whipped her skirts in the breeze. Just like this wind was moving hers. It felt as if her mother were giving her a wee nudge to take the gift that had been given to her. Her mind made up, she looked at Alick and gave him a confident nod. “Aye, I’ll follow you.”

Alick’s face lit up, even in the dark. “We’re going on our own adventure, starting with a steep climb over the curtain wall.”

He looked at her, his face full of excitement, then begged her. “Come, you’ll do it, will you not? I’ll help you get up to the top. Jumping down is easy.”

Off they went toward the curtain wall. She neared the wall and he said, “You’ll have to tie your gown up or it may rip.” He showed her how without touching her, so she did her best and said, “How will I get to the top?”

He said, “That tree over there. Climb up on that branch.” He pointed. “I’ll go on this tree and get ahead of you.”

It had been so long since she’d climbed a tree, but the one he’d indicated look fairly easy to scale, and she did as he suggested. He moved up his tree, leaping from it to the wall so quickly she was in shock.

He chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised. My cousins and I used to do this all the time when we were younger. We practiced escaping from the English. Dyna always won.”

“Who’s Dyna?”

“The only lass in our group. Her hair is nearly white, and she’s the best archer I’ve ever seen.” He held his hand out to her and she took it, accepting his help onto the wall.

Alick dropped down first and then motioned for her to jump. He caught her, his arms encircling her for one delicious moment, and then he lifted his finger to her lips because her sire was on the other side searching for them. Yelling her name.

Once he left, they took off in the dark, giggling and hushing each other in turn, until they reached an expansive meadow.

“Race?” Alick suggested, cocking an eyebrow.

“You’ll win,” she said, “even with my gown tied up. I don’t run often because I’m not allowed.”

A dark look crossed his face, there and then gone. “Your sire is foolish. Dyna’s the fastest runner, too. Lasses can do anything.” He took her hand and they ran together until they came to a burn.

The moonlight was beautiful, reflecting off the water bubbling across the rocks. She reached down and let her hand catch the cool water, refreshing her. She threw some on her face and washed her hands. “Ouch,” she said, peering at her hand.

“What hurts?” Alick said, coming to her side.

“I have a thorn in my hand. Must be from climbing.”

He held her hand close and looked at it, tilting it toward the moonlight. “I see it. I’ll dry