Page 21 of Much Ado About a Scot

While Xander fought off the second assailant, the first man regained his feet, scooped up the fallen blade, and headed for the trees, taking her deed with him. Isobel didn’t think about what she was doing as she chased after him. Knowing he was being followed, the man turned. He raised the blade toward her.

“Isobel!” Xander’s voice sounded behind her.

Instinct took over as she jumped toward the man, raising her foot as she came closer. The man reached out to grab her, but she brought the side of her foot down hard against his knee. He crumpled to the ground, bellowing like a wounded beast.

“Where’s my deed?” she asked, panting as she stepped toward him. She scooped up the fallen dagger.

Xander came to her side, placing his own foot against the man’s injured knee. “You might want to give the lady what she asked for.”

The man screeched as Xander applied more pressure to his injured leg.

The intruder reached inside his tunic and withdrew the vellum document with its recognizable pendant seal, and thrust it at her. “Take it!” he gasped.

Isobel accepted the stolen document. As she did, she got her first good look at who it was who had broken into her home. She recognized him as the lad she’d paid to help her plow her fields two years past. “Fingal Letham, how dare you break into my home and steal from me.” She gave no outward sign of the anger she felt as she looked beyond him to the young man on the ground. “And you dragged your brother into this as well.” Clyde was only two years Fingal’s younger. Both were no longer boys, but men.

“How were ye able tae subdue me? I’m twice yer size.” His cheeks darkened with rage. “’Tis trickery!”

“Sorcery,” his brother groaned as he sat up, having regained his senses.

Isobel clutched the deed in one hand and Xander’s blade in the other. As her anger faded, her strength ebbed. Her hands started to shake. She stiffened her back, determined not to humiliate herself in front of the Letham brothers. “There is no trickery. I am simply a God-fearing woman protecting what is mine. And if I ever catch you around my estate again, it’ll be more than a sore knee and a headache you walk away with.”

Xander withdrew his foot and helped Fingal to stand. “Heed the lady’s warning. Or you will have to tangle with me again.”

The dark-haired young man brought his hand to his chest, then drew back bloody fingers. He held them toward Xander. “You attacked me.”

“As was my right against an intruder in my home.” Xander stepped closer.

“Yer home?” His voice trembled as he looked around in a panic. “He dinna say anythin’ about nae man bein’ there.”

“Of whom do you speak?” Xander demanded.

Fingal shuffled backward trying to get away. He fell in his haste, then got up and hobbled away. His brother joined him in a hasty retreat through the trees.

“Should we go after them?” Isobel asked.

“Nay.” Xander’s gaze connected with hers. “Judging by the direction in which they are running, and the object they tried to steal, it might be safe to assume Graham had something to do with all this.”

Her fingers went limp and the dagger tumbled from her hand. It thumped against the ground, barely missing her bare toes. She felt drained as she stared down at the deed in her hand. “Why won’t he leave me in peace?” She swayed on her feet.

Xander rushed forward and scooped her into his arms, held her close. “Obviously, there’s something in that deed he needs to hide from you. Let’s go back to the house and find out what is in that deed that he doesn’t want you to know about.”

She should tell him to put her down. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t make it back to Gladmuir Hall under her own power despite her weariness. But it felt nice, being in his arms like this. For a moment she’d let herself pretend he cared about her like a true husband would for his wife. Nestling her cheek deeper into the hollow of his shoulder, she felt the hard muscles of his lean frame, the heat of his bare skin, the smell of soap that still lingered from his bath.

Back inside the kitchen, he set her in a chair and stepped away. She felt a strange tension build in her chest as he took the seat next to hers as she clutched the stolen deed in her hand. She wanted to look at the papers, but couldn’t seem to pull her gaze from the simple grace of his movements. He did not look like a farmer. He looked every inch a seasoned warrior. A silver-white scar stood out against the tanned skin at his shoulder. She hadn’t noticed that while he’d bathed.

Evidence of a battle wound in times past, or an unfortunate accident?

Their gazes met. Her stomach tightened as his eyes widened in surprise. She dropped her gaze to the table, embarrassed that he’d caught her staring at him in such a way.

“Sorry. I forgot my shirt.” He pushed his chair back and disappeared into his chamber, coming back a moment later with his muslin shirt in his hand. He shrugged into it, though he left it unfastened, hanging open so she could see the dark curls covering his chest.

With an effort, Isobel pulled her gaze away, placing the deed on the table. “Do you really think there is something in here that Graham doesn’t want me to know about? I’ve read through this document before. Nothing stood out.”

“You can read.” He raised a dark brow. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You seem to have many unusual skills and abilities.” He paused, studying her face closely. “Where did you learn to attack someone like you did Fingal Letham? It was quite effective.”

There was no judgment in his voice. “My parents taught me many things. It mattered not to them that I was female.”

“Very unusual.”