Page 20 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

She was smiling, but inside, something prickled her a little. Yes, she was proud of her work, but sometimes she wished she had a more conventional life. There was a disgrace attached to the job she did, and it came at a price. Deep down, Grace knew that even if she wanted it, a respectable life was out of reach.

"Wise man," said Andrew, with a smirk that showed her he was not serious. Then something passed over his face. "I mean, ye arenae married, are ye?" he asked, looking so worried that Grace instantly laughed.

"Nay!" she said, laughing at the mere thought. "Och, nay. An' it isnae something I ever will be!" she asserted confidently. But just when he was no longer looking, she glanced at him quickly. A stray thought crossed her mind.

What would it be like being married to a man like him?she wondered.

But as quickly as the thought had arisen, Grace pushed it away. By now, they were at the steepest section of the hillside, and the road had thinned to a single file. Behind her, Andrew glanced unsurely. She could tell he was unnerved by the sudden drops at the side of the passage.

"What does yer father think o' that?" he asked, keeping his head down as he concentrated on navigating the passage. He blanched visibly. Certainly, he had no head for heights.

Not so with Grace; she had been riding this pathway since she could walk. She knew it so well she could almost do it blindfold. But all the same, she slowed a little, allowing him to keep up.

"Och, he kens better than tae try an' talk me out o' it," said Grace, sweetly. "Like ye said. He's a wise man."

"An' what about yer mother?" asked Andrew.

At the mention of mother, Grace's face changed.

"Och, she died when I was wee," said Grace, in a faux cheerful tone. She tightened her grip on the horse's reins, keeping her eyes carefully on the road ahead. The passage they were walking was tricky, and although she knew it well, accidents could still happen.

"I'm sorry," said Andrew, his eyes surveyed her curiously. Grace wondered what he was thinking. Glancing at him swiftly, she hoped he wouldn't ask too many questions about her mother. It was a topic she found hard enough herself, knowing almost nothing about her.

"Dinnae fash, lad," she said. "I dinnae ken her, so why should ye be sorry?" said Grace, her tone brisk.

Yet, it was something she thought of increasingly these days. She had questions—many questions—about her mother's life and whether she would have approved of her life as a fighter. It bothered Grace that she didn't have any answers, although sometimes her father hinted that she might have wanted her to settle down by now, adding to her unease.

That was when she could get anything out of him. Even after all this time, he was unwilling to talk about her. Frowning, Grace bit her lip. Then, sensing Andrew's eyes upon her, she pushed her hair back from her face and smiled.

"Dinnae fash," she said. "Let's get on, shall we?"

Andrew smiled, but it was perfunctory. He did not fully relax until they had completed the precarious section of the pathway up the hill. Finally, they reached the top and were rewarded with a breathtaking view of the valley below.

"So then, what about ye?" Grace asked, staring down at the glen below. It was like watching the world on a small scale. From the top, they could see it all, the market in the middle of the town, the crowds milling around, and farmers chasing their errant sheep through the cobbled streets.

Except from here, they all looked like ants, and the sheep just minuscule specks of dust bobbing about.

Andrew paused awhile, watching, before answering.

"There's nae much tae tell," he said, modestly. "I was brought up nae far from the laird's castle—down in the Duncan lands," he added, quickly. "An' I was apprenticed at a young age. There, they found I was handy wi' a slingshot."

His face broke out into a grin, and as it did, Grace got a picture of him as a young lad, all freckles and mischief.

"An' so I ended up in the guards. Over time, I sharpened my skills an' won the castle tournaments. After that, the laird noticed me an' put me forward as one o' his warriors."

Grace raised her eyebrow expectantly. "The laird," she murmured. She had not realized that Andrew was such a skilled warrior. "Well, I'm honored."

By now, they were treading the lonely path at the top of the mountain. It would not be far until they reached the Ferguson castle. There, Grace planned to ask about, but after that, she was unsure of what would happen.

She wondered if the mysterious warrior would want to stick about or if he would simply disappear back to his clan as soon as he had gotten what he wanted.

Grace suffered an unexpected pang as she thought about this. She was just getting used to Andrew's company and was slightly thrown by the thought of him going so soon.

Without noticing, she sped up on her horse, the brisk autumn winds parting her hair and sending it flying. Bracing air rushed by, much fresher than down in the valley. Behind her, Andrew struggled to keep up.

"Och, slow down, lassie! I dinnae ken where ye are!" he called, his voice disappearing into the wind.

Grace rounded the sharp bend, laughing. The side winds on the hill frequently took strangers by surprise; it was one of the castle's best defenses.