Read Online A Highlander Never Surrenders by Paula Quinn - Free Book Online Page B

was it about this James that she liked so well? He had to be a member of the resistance, for Graham was certain Claire would not give her heart to a man who did not support her cause. Most likely James was a recruit of Connor’s, mayhap even a commander if he had spent enough time with Connor to have been “duped” along with him.
    A movement caught Graham’s attention. His gaze slipped to Claire’s fingers closing slowly around the hilt resting on her belly. She lifted her head, looking first at Robert sleeping across from the fire. As her face tilted upward to find Graham, he closed his eyes and remained still.
    She moved like a wraith along the violet shadows. Each footfall fell with the stealth and silence of a predatory cat as she moved away from the firelight. She gave a tug to the cap under her belt, then lifted it to her head and stuffed her thick braid beneath it.
    Sword in hand, she made her way to her horse. Graham smiled. What was this pleasure she caused in him that led him to pursue her? He would let her run for a little while before catching her. Their agreement, he would be forced to remind her, was that she remain until the morn, and it was not morn just yet.
    The sound of a man’s laughter from beyond the trees snapped Graham to his feet, careless if she heard him. She did, and to his disbelief and horror, she pointed in the direction from which the sound had erupted, and then charged toward it.
    Without pausing to curse her haste, Graham sprang after her. She broke through the trees instants before him and crouched within the tall grass so fast, Graham tumbled right over her. He rolled back to his rump, then leaped at her.
    “What the hell d’ye think ye’re doing, lass?” Shackling her wrists above her head, he covered her from foot to crown with his body.
    “Can you not tell by their direction that their route will take them straight through the camp?” Her reply was a low hiss in the fading darkness. Graham could feel her eyes burning into him. She struggled beneath him and then stopped abruptly when he lifted himself off her shoulders, shifting his weight to his hips.
    “And ye thought to save me and Robert by rushing headlong into their path knowing not if there was one man or fifty?”
    “I stopped to count, but you crashed into me, you lumbering oaf. Now take yourself off me before I—”
    “How many, Claire?”
    “What?” She tugged on her wrists.
    “How many men are there?” He held her still.
    “I did not have a chance—”
    “There are twelve.” He lowered his face to hers and whispered over her cheek. “And ye would have had nae chance against them.”
    His warm breath caressed her earlobe and she found she could not protest. She could barely form a thought.
    “They are MacGregors, and if they hear us skulking around in the brush, our death will be swift. Will ye remain silent and let me try to prevent that from happening?”
    He took her silence to mean aye and raised himself slowly off her. “Angus MacGregor, ’tis Graham Grant,” he called out, facing the traveling men, and stood to his feet.
    One of the men, a huge figure upon a chestnut behemoth, lifted his hand and halted the approaching troop. “Graham? Is it ye, ye bastard? Step closer so we can see ye.” An instant later, he hauled his great sword from its sheath and raised it over his head. “ ’Tis no’ Graham!” he shouted to the others.
    “Hold! ’Tis me!” Graham held up his hands to ward them off.
    “Graham Grant doesna bed lads by day or by night!” another man to the leader’s left called out.
    Graham followed the tip of Brodie MacGregor’s claymore and turned to see Claire standing beside him. He looked at the cap tilted atop her head, frowned at it, then plucked it off. Her long braid unraveled and swung to her waist, revealing her true sex to the onlookers.
    “Aye, ’tis Graham,” Brodie announced to all, with a sigh of great relief. “ ’Tis a lass he tumbles ’neath the