Page 43 of How to Woo a Highlander

It was clear that he had made up his mind, but then again, so had she. In the chaos and distraction, it was easy to make her way back to the stables.

Luckily, she was wearing a dress with a simple skirt. It was still too long for horse riding, but she gripped the edge and ripped it to her knee. She was so focused on the action that she almost jumped out of her skin when a voice suddenly spoke.

"Miss Jane?" her head shot up to find Anderson staring at her with surprise and confusion.

"Anderson!" she breathed, relieved that it was him. It was not the most respectable thing to be found ripping her skirt, but Anderson had already seen her doing worse.

"I thought that it was ye. I saw ye passin', but I dinnae understand. What are ye doing, miss?" the young stableboy asked.

"Oh, Anderson, it's so good that you're here. I need your help. Please tear this off," she pleaded, holding out the partly torn skirt.

The boy's face was aflame with shame as he hesitantly stepped forward and did as he was told, pulling on the cloth and tearing it off with an audible rip. She turned around, looking at the dress. It was now a haphazardly cut knee-length skirt, not much different from a kilt although she did not have socks, and her calves were bare.

Anderson's face was so red that she would not have been surprised if blood began to leak from his pores as he tightly held the piece of her skirt. She took it from him and discarded it behind her.

"Thank you for helping me again, Anderson. I’m sorry to trouble you more, but can you help me steal a horse?" she asked.

The poor young man could only stand with his jaw unhinged and at a loss, stumped by the crazy and daring woman before him.

Chapter Nineteen

Alastair could hear his heartbeat as he approached the group of the Grant clan soldiers with his men behind him. It was so loud that he hoped the enemy could not hear it too. They had spent the day riding nonstop, and it was evening when Gerald, the fastest of his men, returned to inform them of the Grant soldiers that were scouting ahead for the army.

It was routine behavior; the army would send a few people to check how strong the enemy was before they attacked. If it were possible for the scouting team to annihilate the enemy before the army arrived, they would. He had been counting on them using this strategy, and now he would reap the benefits. They left their horses and were lying in wait in the bushes of the forest, preparing to ambush the enemy soldiers now settling, forming their camp in the clearing.

They were outnumbered; the Grant scouting team comprised of at least sixty soldiers. Although it was dangerous, Alastair trusted himself and his men to be able to subdue three soldiers each without worry, so no matter how strong the enemy was, they would be able to pull through after the element of surprise. The enemy soldiers talked among themselves as they set up camp to wait for their army.

The plan was simple; they would attack and kill all of the soldiers and take their clothes and pretend to be Grant soldiers to infiltrate their ranks. From within, they would assassinate their leaders one by one and set fire to their main camp while they slept to kill the army in one fell swoop.

He signaled his men behind him, and on his mark, they burst into the clearing. Alastair saw the look of shock on his opponent's face before swinging his sword deftly, slicing open his throat like butter.

"Find the man with the signal flare, dae nae allow them to inform their army of our ambush," he instructed, wasting no time and moving to the next enemy beside him. He quickly sliced off the hand that was reaching for its sword, and as the man fell, screaming in pain, he beheaded the one behind him.

They were taking advantage of the element of surprise. Luckily, the men were not quick to react and were still disorganized and were rapidly cut down. Alastair turned around just in time to parry a strike from his first opponent, who had rallied and picked up his sword.

His eyes widened as he shifted out of the range of strike of another attacker. Not wanting to be caught in the handicap match of two on one, he kicked the knee of his first attacker, satisfied when he heard the crunch of his leg-breaking and elbowed his second attacker in the nose.

As the second attacker stumbled back, he had enough space and grabbed the sword hand of the first attacker who was now on his knees and wrenched it from his hand. Now armed with two weapons, he made quick work of both, striking the head of the first and burying his blade in the heart of the second.

He glanced around, finding his men working with the same efficiency and nodded with satisfaction. Their blood was still pumping with adrenaline, knowing how difficult the task ahead of them was. None of them wanted to die so quickly and fought on valiantly, invincible to the swords of the enemy who had not faced any resistance since they attacked the clan.

They had been killing defenseless farmers, women, and children, and facing a real fighting force had thrown them. Given time, they would adjust, but unfortunately, Alastair did not plan on giving them such a luxury. Stepping forward, he plunged his sword into the back of a soldier whose sword was raised at Gerald.

They made quick work of them; the clearing was stained with blood and bodies, and only five of the enemy remained. Alastair cut down another quickly, leaving four and noticed just in time that one had escaped into the bushes.

He swore and snapped his fingers. Two of his men immediately left the battle and turned to him, as he pointed in the direction of the fleeing soldier

"One of them is escapin'. If he does, he will tell the enemy of our attack. Stop him,” he ordered. They moved immediately, running after the man like lions after an injured antelope. Confident that the problem would be solved, he moved to help his men finish off the rest of the soldiers who were fighting more seriously now they fully grasped their situation.

He made swift work of them, attacking their blind spots and killing them before they even realized they were cut.

“Where is the signal flare, dinnae tell me the escapin’ pig has it?” He asked. Carlisle stepped forward and handed it to him.

“No, sir,” he said. Alastair nodded, pleased that all had gone well.

"We've done it, brothers; the first part is a success. Let us get rid of these bodies and take what clothes can still be worn from this mess."

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