Highlander's Touch Read Online Free

find her, what would he do? Bile rose in her throat, spurred by fear.
    The Grant warrior stuck his boot under the man’s belly and flipped him over. He bent low, anger coming off him in waves as he stared down his enemy. “Who sent ye?” he demanded.
    But the howling man didn’t respond, only rolled back onto his belly, and reached frantically behind him to get the blade. His fingers slipped in his own blood.
    The golden warrior, with a huff of annoyance, yanked the blade out, followed by the weaker man’s wail of pain. The larger warrior rolled the injured one over, and again said, “Who sent ye?”
    The injured man had the nerve to spit in the warrior’s face. Shona recoiled. Though the golden warrior had stabbed him—he’d also pulled the blade out.
    The Grant warrior shoved his boot against the man’s chest, crushing him into the ground.
    The ground continued to rumble, and two more men, looking just as desperate and unrefined as the felled one, broke through the trees. By the way the large one reacted, jumping to his feet and drawing his sword once more, he didn’t know them. More MacDonalds, judging by the tartans they wore.
    Was the forest filled with them?
    Shona’s stomach was so twisted up in knots she had to keep herself from vomiting. Her throat burned and her head pounded. She was working herself up so much that she’d be sick very soon if she didn’t get ahold of herself. At that realization, she forced herself to calm. Aye, she was alone. Aye, all she had was her little dagger and a few arrows for protection. But she was hidden away enough that no one had noticed her yet, and the business they were going about, they’d not notice her at all. That was, if she kept quiet.
    She breathed in deeply through her nose, letting it out in a long quiet exhale. Get a hold of yourself, Shona! Rory would be rolling in his grave now if he knew how she was responding to these brutes. He’d taught her better than this.
    The stark truth was, her life depended on her silence.
    Shona clutched her blade all the tighter, ignoring the sting of the handle biting into the flesh of her palm.
    The golden warrior turned in a circle, assessing his surroundings. His face remained calm as he looked about, but the steady jerk in his jaw muscle told her that he was a little more concerned than he showed. He glanced behind him, looking relieved. That was odd. ’Twas almost as though he was glad none of his comrades had come forward—if he had comrades at all?
    The warrior appeared to be alone, at least that was what he wanted his enemies to think. No one chased after the MacDonald men to come to the Grant warrior’s aid. Why had he been on the road alone? Especially with the lands crawling with raiders. As a Grant warrior, he had to have known the risks of doing so.
    She’d known them.
    ’Haps he’d had companions and the MacDonalds had defeated them.
    Fear was beginning to take control of her body. Her teeth chattered and she bit down hard enough to make her jaw muscles hurt.
    The new arrivals reined in their horses and smiled down on the lone warrior like ghouls. That only seemed to make the Grant Highlander more assured. Puzzling. He grinned up at the two on horseback as though he’d eat them alive within the count of ten.
    Cocky warrior, he was.
    “We’ve a message for your laird,” one called down with a sneer on his ugly face.
    The golden god stared defiantly up at them, his weapon steady, perhaps expecting them to pounce. From his stance, Shona wondered if the message would be this man’s death, and she wished she could help him. How, she had no clue, but she couldn’t just let him die. Nettles, what was she thinking? She had to remain silent—or die. She owed this warrior nothing. She had to save herself.
    But… that just seemed so wrong. Something about the golden one struck her in a place deep inside her chest that moved her to action. Still, she hesitated.
    Rory had taught her to throw a knife, but she