Page 30 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

9

Light scorched his eyes. As the first rays broke through the autumn clouds, Andrew covered his eyes and tried to remember where he was. Slowly, he prized them open. When he looked, it was to discover he was alone and shivering beneath a wet woolen tent that he'd only just discovered hadn't been properly waterproofed.

As rain dripped in and Andrew adjusted his eyes, he remembered how he had got there: the lass. She was very quiet—not even snoring. Immediately, Andrew turned to his side.

She was gone.

Sitting upright in the leaking tent, Andrew turned around. It did not take him long to realize she was not about. Within half a second, he was out of the tent and squinting into the morning sky.

An unexpected blaze of sunshine nearly seared his eyes shut; the rays were so bright, it felt like someone jabbing him in the eye with a blade.

"Grace?"

Andrew had made it to his feet and was casting around. The small glade they had camped in was alive with birdsong, making it hard to hear anything else overhead.

Urgency tugged at Andrew's heart. He had an instinctive fear of something happening to the lass, here, alone, in the wild Highlands landscape.

Telling himself she couldn't have gone far, Andrew reached for his brat and then began his walk around the tall trees.

Nothing.

"Grace?" he called, poking his head through the trees. All he could see was a robin plucking a worm from the wet grounds. Evidently, it must have rained last night, although he didn't remember it at all.

There was a pause. Andrew was just about to pull away and look further when a rustling sound came through the trees. Immediately, the bird flew off, its beating wings echoing in the wide-open glade around the woodland.

"Grace!" he shouted, relieved. Andrew pushed his way out from the trees, expectantly hoping to see her.

Instead, he came face-to-face with a large, angry wildcat. As soon as he saw the cat, it hissed, arching its back fiercely. Instantly, Andrew backed off. He'd had more than one bad encounter with a startled wildcat and didn't want to add this one to his list of scratches.

The cat flashed its green eyes at him before flouncing past him with an angry flick of the tail. Evidently, Andrew had spooked its prey.

Realizing that Grace was clearly not there, Andrew spun about, trying to decipher which direction she had gone in.

Briskly, he walked up to where they had tethered the horses for the night. Only Blackwell was there. Sparkle had been taken. Grace was gone.

More confused than anything, Andrew swiftly mounted Blackwell, and with a tug of the reins, he was off. The only problem was, in which direction?

With no more idea than Blackwell on where she had gone, Andrew let his horse lead the way, and soon they were taking a cracking promenade of the small glade.

The wind rippled around the glen, rushing through the autumn trees that lined it. Golden leaves blew across the hillside, revealing the bare boughs beneath them. Winter was coming to the glen, and sharply. But Andrew did not feel its icy breath. He was too hot and bothered looking for her.

Again, he called her name. It echoed out across the empty glen, but by then, Andrew had given up hope. He had no idea where she was. Inside, a small rage was building in him. Concern was replaced by irritation. What had caused her to just take off like that? Didn't she know it was dangerous out there on her own? They were still in bandit territory.

Just as he was contemplating what to do, he suddenly caught sight of her. Over there, in the distance, through the glade and in the thick copse of trees behind him, a shape flashed through. It was her, he was certain. Carefully, he traced the outline of her light-colored arisaid and cape as it contrasted with her shoulder-length dark hair.

She was crouched down behind some undergrowth. Bristling, Andrew made a move to come over. Then, without warning, she suddenly dropped flat to the ground.

His heart skipping a beat, Andrew reacted in half a second. Without a sound, he flung himself forward, hurtling through the undergrowth with stealth. He kept to the trees, creeping around the clearing in the middle until he was at the opposite end of the copse.

With care, he crept across the undergrowth, placing every footstep lightly so as not to be heard. In front of him, the girl lay still. Fearing some unseen foe, Andrew raised the bow in his hand and took aim, but he could not see anyone. Putting it away again, Andrew decided the best course of action was to simply make a run for it and drag her away.

So, with no further warning, he sprung from the trees, darting across to where she was.

Whoosh!He tugged at the lass’s body, lifting her up from the ground and jettisoning her over his shoulder blade. Then, before she could scream, he pressed his hands up to her mouth, muffling her cries.

"Come on," he muttered, thinking someone was chasing her. But Grace kicked forcefully at Andrew's shoulder blade.

"Get off me!" she hissed. Instantly, she recoiled, her back arching like a cat. Grace's brown eyes spat venom, and Andrew backed off.