Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
It took them a couple of hours to ride to the borders of MacPherson lands. Alexander had only been here a time or two to meet with Broderic and Ian. The rocky alcoves in this part of the land were perfect for meeting in secret.
“Alright, we’re here. Where are they? Hidin’ in the rocks? This is why I said we should have brought at least a few men with us,” Michael protested.
“It would have been unnecessary. We can handle a wee lass by ourselves. If we cannae, then we have nay business leadin’ our people,” Alexander stated firmly. “Our resources are better spent on protectin’ our borders, especially with us so far from the keep.”
He had insisted that they make the journey alone, much to his brother’s disapproval. It had only taken Michael half of the way here to stop muttering about fake letters from lasses. Alexander had to threaten to chop off his manhood to get him to shut up.
“Bein’ this close to the castle isnae smart, I tell ye. What if they are lyin’ in wait for us and nae for a quick word? This is folly, like a fly goin’ blindly into honey,” Michael argued as Alexander dismounted and tethered his wide bay horse to a small, wispy tree.
He followed his brother’s lead and did the same, tying his chestnut beside the bay. He kept close to his brother the entire time, just in case they were ambushed.
“Oh, shut it. The idea of a lass settin’ a trap is a bit ridiculous, do ye nae think?” Alexander scoffed. “Well, except for Alice. But I think we may have to take some responsibility for her unscrupulous ways.”
“Perhaps, Me Laird, that is a harsh judgment. Why could a lass nae set a trap, after all? Do ye think women are simple-minded simply because of their gender?” The voice came from behind the very rocks they had been discussing.
Both men drew their swords, pointing them in the general direction of the voice. They were shocked when a slender woman cloaked in a green and red tartan rounded the rocks and stepped in front of them. Her face was hidden behind her loose hood.
“I am a bit disappointed ye would consider me such a little threat. And yet I must admit that ye were right to think I would come alone,” she proclaimed innocently. “A whole group of MacPhersons on MacAllister land would have been much harder to hide, after all.”
The lass was followed closely by a scruffy orange tabby cat. The fearless creature trotted to the two men and weaved between their legs, meowing at each of them. When they shooed it away, the cloaked woman crouched down and extended a fair hand to recall it, and it returned to her immediately.
“And who are ye, lass? Remove yer hood from yer face. After all, we”—Alexander motioned to his brother and himself—“arenae hidin’ our faces from ye.”
“I am Helena Fraser.” Her voice rang out in the alcove sweetly, almost melodically. Bending to pick up the cat and cradle it, she rubbed her cheek against its head affectionately. “And this is Mags, the Impossible.”
Her voice was like birdsong in the spring. Clasping her hood in a dainty hand, she pulled it back from her face, revealing long black hair and doe-like brown eyes with the most adorable small mole under her left eye.
Alexander was struck silent by her breathtaking beauty; his voice caught in his throat, and he feared he may choke on the lack of air. He was rarely taken with a woman. Most were fine to bed for a night or two, but he had more important matters to attend to than matters of his heart or… his body.
Well, he’s certainly nae hidin’ her because she is hideous.
Alexander took a long moment to study her before exchanging a look with Michael, quickly concluding that they were having the same thoughts.
He growled low, not liking another man eyeing her even though he was doing the very same thing. Michael had the decency to clear his throat and avert his gaze from the lass, sensing the shift in the air.
Why am I suddenly so possessive of a lass I just met?
“I told ye to stay at the castle,” she muttered to the cat, oblivious to the unscrupulous thoughts of the men in front of her.
She was not bothered in the slightest that she was standing in a clearing with two war-hardened men from a rival clan, with only a cat for protection.
The two brothers exchanged bewildered looks, puzzled by her relaxed stance. Alexander began to wonder if the lass was a bit touched in the head, after all.
Perhaps that was why her father kept her locked away in the keep. Though neither Broderic nor Ian ever mentioned that she was a lunatic.
“Apologies, lass, we meant nay offense. I’m Michael Gordon, man-at-arms to Alexander Gordon, Laird of Clan MacAllister.”
Michael was the first one to resume breathing and therefore able to make words out of sounds faster than Alexander, whose head still swam. He dipped his head slightly as he introduced himself, before sweeping his hand in his brother’s direction and introducing him as well.
Alexander shook his head slightly, cleared his throat, and plastered his gruff mask back on.
“Speak for yerself. I still dinnae see the lass capable of arrangin’ such a thing.” He slid his sword back into its scabbard and then crossed his arms over his chest. The pose made him look even more intimidating.
Michael put his sword away as well, assuming a much more relaxed stance beside his brother. He looked far less threatening.
“Oh, tsk, tsk. Ye men always underestimate the womenfolk. An archaic thought, that women should leave war and all that comes with it to the men. I strongly disagree with that notion.” She set the cat down, wandering closer to Alexander.
“Aye, if ye say so. I’m gettin’ bored of this conversation already. I am nae a patient man, lass,” he warned.
“What if a wee lass such as meself could end this war? Would ye be bored, then?” Her eyes blazed in challenge, refusing to show how suddenly uncertain she felt beneath his brooding gaze. “Shall we light a fire and at least drink some ale while we discuss the matters at hand?”
Michael looked to Alexander for instruction.
Alexander nodded, moving to start a small fire while motioning for Michael to go to the horses. The lass moved further into the clearing, setting her small bag down and taking a seat beside the fire Alexander was building.
“It is either very brave of ye or very stupid of ye to be out here alone with two men, ye ken that?” he grunted, striking flint and steel over a small pile of kindling. “What if we were of the mind to simply make ye our captive to force MacPherson to accept a truce?”
A small fire ignited beneath his skillful hands, and she watched him with intense interest. Michael brought ale bottles with him and handed one to the lass with a respectful nod.
“That would be yer mistake, Me Laird. Me faither would nay more change his position for me sake than for any others. His hatred for ye runs too deep for that, I’m afraid,” she conceded, her expression slightly grim.
Helena tried to hide her thoughts. She had arranged this meeting in secret. If Laird MacAllister and his man-at-arms chose to take her as a prisoner before hearing her proposal, no one was coming to rescue her.
Please, please, let them be reasonable men despite their differences.
Helena silently prayed before steeling herself—she could not let her fear show.
“Nae to worry, Me Laird. I promise ye I’ll fight ye harder than an angry badger should ye attempt to take me captive.” Her eyes gleamed with challenge, accentuated by the firelight.
At her words, Michael spit out the sip of ale he had just taken, while Alexander smirked.
Now that they had all settled around the fire, the MacAllisters sat on one side and Helena sat on the other. The cat returned to settle in her lap.
She pulled out a handful of shortbread from her bag, took one, and passed the remainder to Alexander to split with his man-at-arms.
“I apologize if, God forbid, there are peas in it,” Helena muttered quietly.
The men examined the shortbread, perplexed by her comment.
She took a bite and held the rest of the piece up to show them. “I promise it isnae poisoned.”
She took the opportunity to take the Laird in. He was tall—much taller than her—with broad shoulders and muscular arms. His green and blue tartan was wrapped such that his muscular chest was exposed.
His long black hair was tied back, a scruffy beard of the same shade covering his strong jawline. She noticed a long scar along his left cheekbone nearly hidden by his facial hair.
He caught her looking at him, his hazel eyes locking onto hers. That sent a shiver down her spine, but it also heightened the pulsing sensation she felt in her belly. She could feel herself flushing and looked away quickly.
“So, what is this meeting about, lass? I dinnae have all day,” Alexander asked, staring down at her doubtfully. “Ye’re bold to come so close to MacAllister Castle.”
Oh, Lord.
She could feel a blush blooming on her cheeks at being caught gazing at him, and she chastised herself inwardly.
What would Aunt Sophia say, makin’ eyes at the enemy?
Helena fidgeted beneath his gaze, stroking the cat’s soft fur for comfort. Impatiently, Alexander motioned for her to answer.
“Well, I would like to see an end to this war. Wouldnae ye? I feel like both our clans’ resources are bein’ wasted on an endless pursuit when bigger threats lurk further beyond our borders,” Helena stated.
“The Brits, for one, are becomin’ quite troublesome.
I fear we are headed for a full-blown rebellion soon. ”
“Aye. That still doesnae tell me why ye requested this meetin’, lass.
” Alexander crossed his arms again, kicking his legs out in front of him.
His irritation permeated the air between them.
“I have petitioned yer faither repeatedly for a chance to negotiate a truce for those very reasons. To date, he has rejected me requests.”
“Aye, I ken. Which is why I sent ye the letter requestin’ to meet with ye,” Helena explained, wringing her hands nervously. “I ken how to end the war. A way to force me faither’s hand. A way to initiate a truce he would have to accept.”
“I dinnae follow, lass.” Alexander leaned forward, his eyes boring into hers. “What does this have to do with ye?”
“Well…” Helena looked nervously at her cat, who was purring in her lap as he slept. “That’s why I asked ye to meet us. I’ve come up with a way to end the war between our clans.”
“Aye? What’s that?” Alexander raised an eyebrow, enjoying the way she fidgeted under his gaze.
“Well, I propose that we—as in, ye and I—get married.”