Free The Highlander's Touch by Karen Marie Moning Page B

there are some things I dinna miss about me mam being gone
at all,”
Eirren said cheerfully. “Come on with ye. I see ye’ve decided to stay in the cave with the bear, which isna all bad; his growl is much worse than his bite, once ye get him to relax.”
    Lisa smiled as she followed him from the stairwell. Young Eirren saw far too much for her comfort, but he might prove a useful ally for that very reason. Scampering about like a busy mouse, the inquisitive lad probably knew every nook and cranny of the castle. She would do well to cultivate his company, surreptitiously of course. As if he’d read her thoughts, Eirren spoke, as he gently pushed her back in her room. “Doona be telling the laird about me, lassie. He willna like me speaking with ye. It must be a secret between only two. I ken ye wouldna wish to get me in trouble, would ye now?” He held her gaze.
    “Our secret,” Lisa agreed.

C IRCENN SMACKED D UNCAN’S THIGH WITH THE FLAT OF his blade. “Pay attention, Douglas,” he growled. “Distraction will kill a man in battle.”
    Duncan shook his head and frowned as he counted off five paces and faced Circenn. “Sorry, but I thought I saw a child dart into the bothy behind the keep.”
    “Most likely that young serving lass Floria, who scarce reaches my ribs,” Circenn said. “You know no children are permitted at Dunnottar.”
    “If so, it was a bloody small lass.” Duncan leveled his sword with a smooth flick of his muscled forearm. “And although you and Galan think I like ’em all, I doona like ’em
that
young.”
    Their swords met in a clash of steel that sent sparks cartwheeling into the mist as dawn broke over Dunnottar. Dimly visible beyond damp low-hanging clouds, the sun bobbed on the shimmering horizon of the ocean, and the mist that had blown in with the night tide began to steam off slowly.
    “Come, Douglas, fight me,” Circenn goaded. Duncan had trained with Circenn since youth and was one of the few men who could hold his own in battle against him, fora short time, at least; then Circenn’s superior strength and endurance finished him.
    Parry and thrust, feint and spin. The two performed an ancient warrior’s dance around the courtyard until suddenly Duncan penetrated Circenn’s protective stance, the tip of his blade resting at the laird’s throat.
    The circle of knights flinched collectively as Circenn froze, his gaze fixed not on Duncan’s blade but high on the east face of the keep.
    “She is walking calamity. The lass is absolutely without wits, I vow it,” Circenn said. He released a string of curses that caused even Duncan to raise a brow.
    All eyes turned to the east where a slender woman clung to the stone wall, fifty feet above the ground. Knotted linens flapped in the breeze, dangling a dozen feet beneath her. It was obvious what she was doing, dropping down the dozen feet to the window beneath hers, preparing to enter it.
    “Why does she not simply use the door, milord?” one of the Templars asked.
    “I locked it,” Circenn muttered.
    Duncan lowered his sword and cursed. “I should have known I didn’t beat you fairly.”
    “Who is she?” another knight asked. “And what manner of dress is she wearing? It is as if she has naught a stitch on. You can see the separate curves of her … er …”
    “Yes, who is she, milord?” a half-dozen knights echoed.
    Circenn’s eyes never strayed from the slim figure descending the wall with no small degree of finesse. Clad in those strange trousers, one could indeed see every inch of her shapely derriere as her long legs stretched to find a toehold. He’d been holding his breath since the moment the flicker of linen had caught his eye. Now he expelled itin a gusty sigh. “I was not supposed to reveal her,” he lied swiftly, meeting Duncan’s gaze with a silent warning. He was momentarily appalled at how easily the lie had sprung to his lips.
See
, he berated himself,
break one rule and they all go to