Devils Highlander (Clan MacAlpin 1)

She studied his scars, the faint spidery lattice of tissue on his brow, the slight crook to his nose. The loss of his brother might be a scar on his heart, but he bore the marks of battle on his body.

Cormac had been a warrior, a hero. He'd endured unfathomable things, things she couldn't begin to contemplate.

And it was clear that it had altered him, transformed him irrevocably. There was a darkness in his gaze deeper and more poisonous than the loss of his brother as a child. She was desperate to know how it was that he'd grown from an anguished boy into the dark, forbidding man before her.

“How… “ she began quietly. What feats had he performed? What bravery? At what reckless disregard to his life?

She stepped closer, gingerly stretching her hand toward his face. “How did this happen? Your nose. Was it in battle?”

His laugh startled her. “Such sweet torture on your face, lass. All this and you ask about my nose?”

“I thought it the best place to start. ”

Shaking his head, he plopped on the edge of the bed. “Ree, you're too much. I'd thought you were going to ask…

well… “ He sighed, giving another wistful shake to his head.

She sat stiffly beside him. She felt abashed, and then she simply felt put out because he even had the power to make her feel thus.

“'Tis a remarkable tale indeed,” he began. “You guessed correctly. My nose was broken in a serious battle. ” Leaning his elbows on his knees, he struck a relaxed pose.

She couldn't relax, though. The cursed man had her thoughts running every which way.

She tried to gather herself. He was going to tell her about his battles. She'd longed to hear about them. The notion that he'd share such a personal thing, that she was about to get a glimpse into his shadowed past, made her restless, excited. She folded her hands in her lap, schooling her face to emotionless quiet.

“The day began like any other. There was naught but dried oats to break our fast. 'Twas hardtack to eat in the morning and, with naught but a bit of bread and cheese to hand, iron rations when the sun grew high. Bellies were gnawing and moods were frayed by the time the enemy approached. ”

“When did the battle begin?” she asked gravely.

“Just after midday, and och, Ree,” he said somberly, “it was a terrible sight. They came with a mad glint in their eyes and a wild howl on their lips. ”

Marjorie scooted closer, mesmerized. He must've been terrified. She couldn't imagine the horrors he'd faced in his years away.

“And this enemy,” he said, “you'll not credit your ears when you hear their name. ”

“Was it the Campbells?” she asked, spellbound. Finally, she'd learn some of the secrets of his past. “Argyll himself?”

“No. Worse than the Campbell. 'Twas a demon, shooting straight for me as though fleeing the mouth of hell.

Indeed, folk have been known to call this enemy a devil. But I tell you, it was even more frightening that that.

Even more terrible. ”

“Why?”

“This enemy… “ His voice grew to a whisper. “My dreaded foe, and the author of this broken face of mine… “

“Who? Tell it, Cormac, what was this enemy's name?”

“My enemy's name was Bridget. Bridget MacAlpin. ”

Marjorie's mind went utterly blank for a moment, and then she swatted Cormac as hard as she could. His sister.

This was a story about his sister.

“You see!” Grabbing her hand, he broke into loud laughter. “You are proof of it yourself. The female of the species is the most dreaded enemy of all. ”

“Be serious, Cormac. ” Though her tone was stern, she bit her cheek not to smile. She hadn't heard him laugh since they were children.