Page 8 of How to Woo a Highlander

William shrugged the arm off his shoulders as he began to recount the matter to Lain.

“Miss Baxendale here saved this dobber from a formidable group of bandits, and instead of him thanking her, he insulted them. Even now, he still does nothin’ but glare at her.”

Alastair stared at his friends with a deadpan expression, even as Lain clucked his tongue and shook his head.

“Where are yer manners, Alastair? And to such a pretty lady too. This is why ye have nay luck with women.” It was all Alastair could do not to knock him over the head.

“Ye two act like she was a saint in this matter. She didnae take it like some helpless princess; me pride still stings from the harsh words she said to me in response,” he retorted.

At his words, the three turned their gazes to Jane, who remained silent and watched their exchange. She appeared rather amused, and he suddenly felt vulnerable, letting a stranger observe his dealings with his friends.

“Pah, if Jane said anythin’ to ye, ye deserved it.” Lain laughed, nudging the English woman’s arm with his elbow as though they had been friends forever. Alastair narrowed his eyes; his friend looked way too amused by the situation.

“Traitor,” he muttered, and his friend guffawed heartily.

“Ye ken Alastair isn’t very keen on Miss Baxendale’s people, William. Ye cannae say ye are surprised by his behavior,” Lain blurted.

Alastair turned stunned eyes even as William grimaced, and the English woman raised her brows. It was clear that Lain did not think before he spoke and didn’t even register a change in the air as he began to pull William away.

“Come, William, let us allow our friend to make amends. I see a bonnie lass ye havenae introduced me to before. Alastair, ye better make friends with Miss Baxendale because yer best friends like her already,” he said.

William gave them a helpless shrug even as Lain whirled him away, and just like that, Alastair was alone with the English woman. He met her gaze hesitantly, and immediately frowned at the smug look on her face.

“What are ye even doin’ here? How dae ye ken William?” he asked, knowing his voice was dripping with distrust.

She crossed her arms over her chest, and his eyes went to the creamy mounds pressed against the low neckline of her dress. His breath hitched, and he raised his gaze quickly, but she had already caught him looking, and her face was red while her eyes flamed with anger.

“My father and William are acquainted, and I am here as William’s guest. That is all you need to know, and I suggest that you curb your barbaric nature and treat me with the respect accorded your Laird’s guest,” she thundered.

Alastair had never met a more sharp-tongued woman. Did she just call him a barbarian? He was infuriated.

Barbarian? Of course, that is what she would call me. It's how they see us all.

"Aye, I am a barbarian because ye English are never barbaric yerselves," he spat bitterly.

She looked exasperated, throwing up a delicate hand.

"Oh, English this, English that. What exactly is your problem with my people?" she demanded

He stepped closer. "Me problem is that ye are an evil and self-righteous bunch. Ye think yerselves gods, as though ye were better than men like me." He pointed to enunciate each word.

She snorted derisively, "Well, I know that I am certainly better than someone who throws away all dignity just because of your flawed notions. Even if a murderous beast were to help me, I would thank it first, because it just might be misunderstood."

He laughed darkly. She certainly had a way with words, seeming never to lack what to say.

"Misunderstood? Ye think that yer people are misunderstood? Ye wee lass who's never left her faither's manor and has only just been weened. Ye need to see more of life before ye say such words to me," he spat.

Her face was so red it looked as though she might explode, her hands clenched by her sides.

"Is that so, oh wise and ancient one. If you know that I am so naive, why then do you judge me when I know nothing?" she asked, her voice full of sarcasm.

"Ye are all the same. Ye ken nothin', but ye have already decided that ye are better than me. Ye're nothin' but a self-righteous little wench," he added with venom.

For the first time, he saw her waver, and he almost felt guilty. Her fists were balled by her sides as though she meant to punch him, and for a moment he thought she would.

Instead, she yanked up her skirts and gave him a deep curtsy.

"Please excuse me, Mr. Bain," she said and walked away, headed for the balconies.