Page 1 of Highlander of Steel
1
“One more story!” the little girl pleaded, hands clasped. “Please?”
Ailis Lyall laughed from the doorway of her niece’s bedchamber and raised her eyes to the heavens with mock despair. “I’ve read yefourstories already, wee mousie. I daenae have any more to tell,” she said, her heart full. “Ye see, what I have to do is sleep, and then in the mornin’, I’ll have dreamed a whole new collection of tales to tell ye.”
Skye, four years old and as sweet as a kitten, tilted her head to the side in deep consideration. “Ye have to dream them first?”
“Of course,” Ailis replied with a smile. “Where do ye think they come from? They come from the land of dreams, which is where ye’re supposed to be. If yer faither catches ye awake, he’ll nae let me tell ye any more stories.”
It wasn’t the empty threat it should have been. Ailis’s brother, Murdock, was just like their father, Shawn, the Laird of Clan Ainsley. Anything fanciful wasn’t to be tolerated, whimsy was a dirty word, stories were no better than idle gossip, and if Ailis was the one filling Skye’s head with adventures and fairytales, then it was all the worse.
The little girl immediately lay down and pulled the coverlets up to her chin, big blue eyes peeking out above the finely woven wool. “Maybe I’ll dream of a story to tell ye,” came her muffled voice.
“Maybe,” Ailis replied, blowing a kiss to her precious niece. “Sleep well, tiny mouse.”
“Sleep well, big mouse,” Skye replied, and promptly squeezed her eyes shut.
Stepping out into the hallway, Ailis closed the door slowly, leaving it ajar, just the way Skye liked.
Murdock never heeded his daughter’s wishes to have a sliver of light so she wouldn’t be afraid in the night. Laird Ainsley had told him it was ridiculous and would lead to him having a weak-minded granddaughter. So, of course, Murdock had heeded himinstead of his child.
Pleased by that minor rebellion, Ailis walked stealthily past her brother’s door, only quickening her pace once she was a safe distance from it. Their father slept in the north tower, sothe ‘family hallway’ only had three permanent residents: Ailis, Murdock, and Skye.
She paused outside the room that had once belonged to her older sister, Kristen.
It had been five years since Kristen had left, now far away, suffering the role of wife to Laird Drummond. But Ailis always stopped, as if, just this once, her sister might be on the other side of it.
“Miss ye, Curly,” she whispered, using the comforting nickname. “Write to me soon, eh?”
With that prayer made, she continued toward her own room—the last one on the floor, tucked in the corner, at an angle to the main hallway.
She picked up the lantern that hung on a hook outside the door and turned the handle, already yearning for the comfort of warm blankets and furs.
Four weary steps into her bedchamber, and she knew she wasn’t alone.
Air rushed behind her. It was not the castle’s customary drafts and chills, but the pressure of someone moving. Quickly. Stealthily.
The faintclickof the door closing sent a shiver up her spine. She wasn’t the one who had closed it.
Hand clenching the curved handle of the lantern, Ailis spun around and raised the glow upward, ready to swing the flickering flame and its glass cage at whoever might be standing there.
“How… are ye?” she gasped, her mind jumbling the words ‘how did you get in here’ and ‘who are you’ into the most ludicrous sentence when facing a potential assailant.
The stranger frowned, wintry blue eyes reflecting the flickering lantern light.
She had to raise the lantern a little higher to be able to see his face properly; the man was far taller than her, and she was not considered short by any means. He was taller than Murdock even, and broader too. Dark hair caught the light, tied back off his face in a warrior’s braids.
He was handsome.
The lantern cast shadows that sharpened his jaw and cheekbones, the ridge of his brow darkening the blue of his eyes. A scar cut across a fine, sloping nose, while short stubble framed full lips… that hadn’t yet said a word.
Do somethin’! Daenae just stand there like a hare with an arrow aimed at it!
Sucking in a breath, Ailis opened her mouth to scream.
She didn’t manage so much as a whimper. The stranger gently pressed his forefinger to her soft lips, a gesture so startling that the breath reserved for her scream puffed out uselessly around his finger.
Slowly, he shook his head. A first warning. There likely wouldn’t be another.
