Page 33 of Highland Sword
“I’ve sworn all of this to Isabellaandto Searc.”
“And now ye’ll swear it to me.”
“Again?”
“Aye. Again.”
“I swear,” she huffed.
“And when we reach Inverness, two of the men come with ye when ye go to Barn Hill. No abandoning them.”
“No abandoning them,” Morrigan repeated. She would, however, leave them outside. She wasn’t about to have these brutes frightening a house full of old women.
“Searc sent a message. Said if ye run across any new barristers while we’re in town, yer to leave them with their faces unmarked and with the use of both eyes, if ye please.”
Smirking as he turned away, Blair moved past her to the men at the very end of the line. In the flickering torchlight, she saw him gesture toward her as he gave them instructions. No doubt the Highlander was putting every deuced eye on her.
She sighed. She’d have to prove herself and earn their trust all over again.
Morrigan knew they were only showing concern for her. What happened the last time she was in town could have turned out a great deal worse if Aidan hadn’t been the one in that alley. When she thought back over that day, Morrigan knew that running into a couple of armed dragoons or a gang of drunken locals would have meant serious trouble. As angry as she’d been, next time she had to think first, act smarter, and be more aware of her surroundings.
The carts and riders wound their way through the narrow lanes of the village. Smoke from cooking fires already hung in the crisp dawn air. As they reached the end of the harvested fields where the lane disappeared into the forest, Morrigan became aware of a rider who’d left the caravan and sat waiting astride his mount.
Even from a distance in the greying dawn, it was not difficult distinguishing Aidan Grant from everyone else. In his tall hat and city attire, he was better dressed than any of the Mackintosh men, including Searc.
Morrigan had no choice. She had nowhere to go. Therewas no avoiding him. As she drew closer, she noted his relaxed manner and the easy way he soothed the spirited beast he was riding. He exchanged jibes with the carters as they passed, and the sound of laughter reached her. Aidan made his life in the cities, but he was completely comfortable and at home here amongst these rugged men.
He tipped his hat when she reached him.
“Your eye,” she murmured, forgoing polite greetings.
If she’d thought it had looked bad before, his eye was far worse today. Added to the lingering bruise along his cheekbone, the cut above it was red and badly swollen.
“I can’t believe how much damage I’ve done to your face. I’m so very sorry.”
“No apology necessary,” he said good-naturedly, nudging his horse and falling in beside her. “It looks worse than it feels.”
“Your brother must be enjoying this immensely. He does seem to take great pleasure in embellishing these mishaps you suffer at my hand.”
No one actually saw her hit Aidan in the eye. That wasn’t stopping Sebastian, however. From the stories he was circulating, one would think he was standing right beside them and watching every jab and parry.
“Indeed. He’s the devil when he has an audience.” The forest closed around them, and in the dim light, she could barely see his face. “But I don’t really mind these wee bumps and scratches. In fact, I am grateful for them.”
“Grateful? How?” Morrigan had thought he was simply being generous so she wouldn’t feel bad. “I’ve heard some of your brother’s stories.”
“Sebastian sees these bruises as a lesson. He’s always been concerned that I’m too reckless for my own good. That’s why he’s forever watching over me.”
“Are you reckless?”
“I’m not, but I do believe I have luck on my side. I’m not tremendously worried about anything terrible happening to me.”
“You’re tempting fate, saying such things. Asking for trouble.”
Aidan didn’t respond, and they rode along in companionable silence. She peered ahead at the line of carts and riders. The sun had begun to filter through the foliage above. The road was descending steadily, and occasional glimpses of the gleaming river appeared alongside them.
Morrigan felt at ease riding along with him like this. If she could make herself forget the few moments in the training yard when he held on to her hand, or the night in the library when he’d teased her and stared at her like she was some ballroom beauty, then she was certain he’d join the ranks of men like Blair and Cinaed and Niall and Searc. Whenever she was in their company, she had no need to pretend to be something she was not.
At a bend in the road, he turned his attention back to her, serious and unsmiling. “Five Grants went off to fight in the war against Napoleon,” he said, his voice low and somber. “At the Battle of Quatre Bras, our father died along with our eldest brother during a charge by French lancers. The second oldest, Noah, was dead as well before nightfall. Sebastian lost his arm when a cannonball ripped through our ranks. I walked away without a scratch that day and the final battle two days later at Waterloo.”
