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from MacLean
land, Meghan certainly didn’t know. Her brow furrowed.
    Could Alison be in danger?
    The tiny hairs at the back of her nape
prickled.
    Perhaps she shouldn’t leave so hastily?
    She halted again, and the little lamb
stopped, too. Meghan peered down at the wee thing, frowning, and
then once more peered about.
    What, indeed, if Alison were in danger? What
if Meghan left and forsook the opportunity to help her dear
friend?
    And yet what could Meghan possibly do
alone?
    She suddenly wasn’t certain what to do.
    “ What do you think, wee
lammie?” she asked. “Do we stay or do we go?”
    The lamb bleated and stared up at her, its
expression blank.
    “ You dunno, you
say?”
    She unwrapped the lead rope from her wrist
and stared pensively at the frayed end, brushing it absently with
her thumb.
    There weren’t any signs of a struggle in the
meadow, as best she could tell, and Alison was nowhere to be found.
The best thing she could do, she decided, was to get her brothers
to order a search. And suddenly... she was beginning to feel a bit
uneasy—as though someone were out there...
    Watching.
    “ Well,” she concluded,
frowning, “I dunno either, but I’m supposin’ I should take you
home.” She cast an anxious glance over her shoulder, and told the
wee lamb, “Come along then.” And she led it toward the forest path
from whence she’d come.
    It wasn’t the safest way home, but it was
certainly the quickest, and since she’d only just come that way and
had encountered nothing amiss, she decided it was the best route to
take. She didn’t particularly care to take the long way home with
the sun bearing down upon the meadow as the poor lamb was enervated
already.
    The shaded forest path, though it meandered
in and out of Brodie and Montgomerie land—the latter being filled
with thieving, conniving Sassenachs—was well worn by Brodie feet
and little-traveled by anyone else. It sat at the far, far edge of
Montgomerie land—land that had once belonged to the MacLeans until
King David of Scotia had requested it from Alison’s father.
    The thought made Meghan glower.
    As she understood it, Alison’s father had
agreed to give it, only so long as Alison wedded the lumpish,
greasy English bugger—well, Meghan didn’t know if he was lumpish or
greasy, precisely, because she’d never set eyes upon the man, but
she certainly knew he was greedy!
    Alison, poor lass, was of a different mind
entirely, as she didn’t wish to wed with Montgomerie at all—and
Meghan couldn’t blame her!
    It seemed to Meghan that the rotten
Sassenach had no sooner set foot upon Scot soil than he was already
ravaging and pillaging his good neighbors—greedy, misbegotten cur
that he was! And in truth, she might not hold him in such contempt,
for she was no stranger to feuding and raiding, but he’d thieved
from her own kinsmen and without provocation!
    Well, her brothers were sworn to set him to
rights, and if Meghan knew them at all, they wouldn’t stop until
they did exactly that. Meghan only hoped it would end without
bloodshed. These were not Scotsmen they were dealing with, and she
was afraid her sweet brothers had forgotten that simple fact.
    “ Englishmen have no
honor!” she told the little lamb as they entered the shade of the
forest. “Nor have they any hearts!”
    The lamb walked silently at her side, though
its stride seemed uncertain.
    “ Their mothers eat them
when they are wee bairns, you see,” she explained, feeling quite
wicked.
    The lamb peered up at her, as though in
disbelief, and then its gaze shied away.
    “’ Tis God’s truth I’m
saying!” she persisted. “Humph! And they’re trying to bring Scotia
to her knees. If you ask me,” she told the lamb in no uncertain
terms, “I think David is a fool for trusting those he calls
friends!” she said, as though the lamb cared one whit what her
opinion was—though why should it care when no one else seemed to
think she had a brain to think with