Page 26 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

8

"Grace, it's all true. No one's going tae hurt ye. But ye are...ye really are the lass I am searching for."

But Andrew's entreaties only served to make Grace even more angry. She could not believe it. Not a bit of it.

A cloud built inside her of confusion, nausea, uncertainty. She wanted nothing more than to run away. But she could not. She had to get to the bottom of this.

"Fannybaws," Grace said defiantly. "Ye've seen my father. He's the auld fella in there weeping his heart out! An' I tell ye right now, ye’re gonnae put that right!"

Grace's anger was crashing like a wave. How could this be true? But something in Andrew's face told her it was. Sick inside, she bit her lip.

"I'm sorry, lass," said Andrew. His green eyes pierced her, and Grace was immediately struck by their sincerity. He did not look like a man making a jape. "But it's true. An' for what it's worth, I didnae ken anything about this until just a few days ago mysel'."

"But..." gasped Grace. She felt her airways constrict. Suddenly, breathing became tense. Seeing her discomfort, Andrew put an arm around her. This time, she let him.

Andrew's strong arms guided her gently from the front of the house, to over by the trees, where both their horses were tethered. Then, he ushered her into their shade. The autumn sun was making one of its surprise encores. Out of nowhere, it was rather hot, and the sudden heat had taken her by surprise.

"Here, lass," he said, indicating the shaded patch beneath a tall sycamore tree where Sparkle and Blackwell were getting to know each other. Andrew looked up to the skies as if he, too, could not believe the sudden change to the weather.

It was a bit like the change to her heart. Inside, Grace didn't know what day it was, let alone the right season anymore. She was afloat. In disbelief, she reached for Andrew.

"It cannae be true," she said miserably, but even as she said it, she knew it was. All through her childhood, there had been questions that had not quite made sense, the biggest missing piece being her mother.

"It is, lass," replied Andrew gently. "It's quite true. Ye've got questions, I ken. An' although I'll try my best tae answer them, the truth is, we may have tae wait until ye reach the Duncan castle, where yer sisters an' brothers are."

Grace's jaw almost dropped to the floor. "Wait, I've got sisters and brothers?"

"Aye," said Andrew. He looked almost apologetic. His eyes met hers, and Grace felt her head spin. This was all too much. She had about a million questions, but somehow, they would not make it out of her mouth. In disbelief, she stared at Andrew.

"Och," he said, holding her tight. The sensation of his strong arms totally overwhelmed her. He was firm and unyielding, and his close grip allowed her to sink into him completely. "Come here, lass. I ken, I ken..."

His secure arms held her, as close as a bairn, as Grace disappeared into his hearty flesh. The scent of his sweat—fresh and masculine—infused her. It was a heady smell, somehow invigorating and comforting at the same time. As much as Grace wanted to pull away, she could not. Although she despised herself for being weak, she could not resist his sturdy touch.

"I dinnae understand," murmured Grace, her face buried deep into his neck. She could stay there forever; the scent of his body was so alluring. "How can this be?"

Everything in her mind had frozen. It would not go round. She had literally no idea how this had happened—how, in an instant, the whole of a life could be turned around with no warning.

With tears forming in her eyes, she looked at Andrew.

"I dinnae ken, lassie," he repeated again. "But if ye come wi' me tae the Duncan clan, maybe we can find the answers."

And taking his hand, Grace nodded. "Alright, I'd like that."

The sensation of being right next to the lassie had excited him. He hadn't expected this. And looking at her face, it was pretty clear that she had not expected it either.

And yet there they were, together, all alone, locked in this strange situation. Together, they held; Andrew hugged Grace closely as the emotion wrung through her like a sponge.

She was collapsing right in front of his eyes, and in the short time he had known Grace, he knew she was not the type to do this. Out of all the lasses he had known, he had never come across anyone like this one. She was firm and bolshie. She certainly did not weep, and men, he suspected, were somewhere down in the pecking order between ants and flies.

Still, there she was, holding on to him as if her life depended on it. The funny thing was, as he held her, he felt as if his did too. And as their arms entwined, Andrew realized he did not want this to stop anytime soon.

The shape of her there, secure in his arms, felt right. And this was what he had wanted to do since the moment they first met. Inside, Andrew sighed.

Indeed, he had had this thought right from the second he had seen her in that barroom. And maybe he had thought it might even happen. But now that he knew who she was, it was out of the question.

Just like that, she had become a noble. And that meant she was seriously out of his level.

Trying his hardest, Andrew loosened his grip to disengage. He did not want to, but if they stayed like this any longer, there was no telling what might happen next.