Chapter One

H eaviness, like a sodden cloak, weighed over him as Alexander Ross rode away from the small cottage on his lands.

His visit had been met with tears of sorrow and a lack of hope. Months had passed since the brutal and senseless murder of the man who'd been the lifeline of the grief-stricken family and still, he, their laird, had not been able to find the killers.

Alexander Ross gave in to the futility of the situation, allowing the exhaustion and despair he kept well-hidden when around others. It was imperative that as laird, he seemed unshakable. Unstoppable. And most importantly that he could always maintain control of his emotions.

For the most part, he'd succeeded. Only a few times had the curtain fallen, but only around those closest to him. It was when in the presence of his brothers and cousin, that he'd confided the frustration of not being able to capture the group of men who terrorized Clan Ross.

A roar of frustration fought to surface, but Alexander kept it restrained. How much longer before his people would witness the defeat of the heartless group of men who, up to this point, had managed to kill clans' people and evade being caught? They could not hide forever. Something or someone would eventually have to give them up. Everyone had a price, something they would willingly exchange for information.

Alexander had little doubt that he and his men would find the cowards. The only obstacles were time and patience, neither of which he had an abundance of. Already talk of his lack of ability to keep the clan's people safe was spreading across the villages and farmlands.

Fear rushed through his lands like a river overrunning its banks. Understandably, the people were scared and unfortunately that fear could lead to unrest.

There was nothing worse than a clan living in fear. People would become suspicious of their neighbors, see enemies where none existed, and eventually their suspicions could cause them to turn against one another. Once that happened, it would take an act of God to bring order back to the land.

His surroundings became eerily silent; the only sound was the wind rustling through leaves. Years of training alerted him that something was amiss. Just then the snap of branches told him a presence was nearby.

Alexander pulled his horse to a stop and stilled his breathing as he strained to listen. He needed to know what direction the sounds had come from.

The murmur of men's voices came from his left, so he slowly pulled back on the reins of his horse, forcing the animal to walk backward into some high bushes. He and the steed were not fully hidden, as most of his body remained above the foliage, but hopefully it was enough for someone passing in the distance to not take notice of him.

Alexander leaned forward, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to see through the trees. Finally there was movement. Whoever they were, they rode a short distance away. He allowed his breath to release because unless the men were alerted, they would not notice him.

First one, then a second, then finally two more came into view. With each one, his heart hammered harder, faster. Could it be them? The attackers?

They were certainly not familiar.

Barely able to keep still, he waited until it was safe to urge his mount forward to follow them. Soon they would leave the safety of the forest, and he would be exposed; so he would have to follow at a distance. For the moment, he kept them as close as he dared, hoping to figure out where their hiding place was.

When the men hesitated, seeming to stop to have a discussion, Alexander moved behind a pair of trees. He peered around just as one of the men turned to scan the area. He ducked back behind the tree praying the low foliage disguised his mount. The beast was a dark brown, almost black, which helped camouflage it among the dark tree trunks and shrubbery. However, a keen eye would be able to notice it.

The air stilled, barely rustling the leaves surrounding him and Alexander cursed under his breath. The movement of branches and leaves helped take attention from anything that moved. He took a quick look to his horse, praying the proud animal wasn't swooshing its full tail. Thankfully, the beast seemed to understand the silent command to be still.

As slowly as possible, Alexander glanced around the tree again. The men had moved. They were not where he'd last seen them. Two remained, their mounts still, both looking in his direction.

He'd been discovered.

Alexander yanked up on his mounts' reins, willing the horse to turn back in the direction he'd come, just as the other two men appeared. One to his right, the other to his left.

Alexander reached for the sword tucked in the scabbard on his back.

"I would nae try to fight us, warrior," one of the men said. His eyes narrowed and lips curled in distaste. "Or should I say, Ross?"

A quick assessment confirmed the only way to escape would be to take the men down, it meant, however, that he'd have his back to the other two. Alexander weighed his options. He'd fought more than one man at a time before. Despite being laird, he'd gone to battle many times, before and after his father's death.

Being outnumbered was not new to him, nor was it frightening. What was worrisome, was that the other two had neared, therefore doubling the number of men he'd have to fight and beat if he had any hope of escaping alive.

The odds were definitely against him. It was a fleeting thought that he ignored.

He was a seasoned warrior, one with an elevated ego, therefore he pushed away any thoughts of defeat. Assessing each man carefully, he realized only two had the flat look of a warrior. The other two lost the battle of meeting his gaze when he locked eyes with them.

"Are ye who have attacked my people?" Alexander's voice was strong and even, making the weak pair exchange looks of surprise.

Their silence answered his question.

"Today ye will die, Ross," said one of the men he recognized as a warrior. Perhaps he'd even fought him in the past. If Alexander were to guess, he was the self-appointed leader of the group.

Witnesses had claimed to have seen a band of six men. If four of them were here, it meant they'd either lost the other two or, for whatever reason, they did not accompany them on that day.

It occurred to him the men had recognized him as one of the Ross brothers, but not as laird. Alexander wasn't sure if it was to his advantage or not. Finally, he decided it didn't matter. If he divulged who he was, they would either take glee in killing him or feel forced to kill him as he'd seen their faces and could recognize them.

"Whether it be all of ye at once, or one at a time, it will be each of ye who will die for what ye've done." Once again, the weaker duo exchanged worried glances.

"Strong words for someone outnumbered," the one who'd last spoken said. He spat on the ground. He eyed Alexander's sword as if assessing how to attack.

"Not used to attacking someone who is prepared?" Alexander chided. "Is it only as a group that ye can expect to beat and kill innocent unarmed people?" He huffed and looked up to the sky. "A defenseless chicken farmer or a lone young guard. It does nae say much about yer abilities."

The spokesman of the group growled. "I can down ye by myself. I dinnae need help."

This time the other three looked to one another in question. The man who'd spoken addressed them. "I will kill him. Dinnae feel as if ye need to assist me."

By the long look he gave the others, they were to remain at a distance unless the man motioned for them, which Alexander suspected he would eventually.

Alexander was a formidable opponent, his horse trained to fight another horse. Something that often caught his enemies by surprise.

With a wild cry, the man charged toward him, which was ridiculous given the fact he was surrounded by foliage and meant his horse had to slow down to make its way forward.

As soon as the attacker neared, Alexander swung his sword, taking advantage of the charging man's lack of balance. The blade flew across the man's side slicing into his arm. It was not a deep cut, but enough to draw blood.

The trio of idiots inched forward, but his opponent held a hand up. He snarled in Alexander's direction, lifting his sword, bringing it down and across. Alexander easily blocked, pushed back, and jabbed his weapon forward. The man had battle experience as he managed to lean away, swinging his steed to avoid being impaled.

Twice again their swords clanged, the sound of metal against metal vibrating through the trees. The men had awkwardly encircled them due to the low-growing bushes and plants.

The horses lifted their legs as they traversed the uneven terrain, nostrils flared, grunting as they expelled sharp breaths. The animals were war horses, accustomed to being handled not only as transport but also as weapons and shields.

Alexander turned his horse the opposite direction of where his opponent moved, catching the man off guard, then with his right foot he tapped his steed's hind right leg. The animal understood the command and kicked out both legs, hitting the hindquarters of the other man's horse before moving away.

Surprised, his opponent's horse did what came naturally. It reared up, bucked, and kicked its legs as a reflex. The man atop the horse momentarily lost his balance giving Alexander the prime opportunity to thrust his sword into his side.

The man let out a howl of pain, then kicked his steed to move away from Alexander.

Not waiting for a signal, the other three advanced.

Alexander held his sword up with both hands facing them. From the way the injured man was panting and leaning forward over his horse, both hands clasped to where he bled, he was no longer a threat.

"This is nae the first time I've faced four men. As ye can see I still live," Alexander stated. The men hesitated just long enough for him to gather some strength and calm his breathing.

Suddenly as one, with a combination of grunts and battle cries, the attackers advanced.

Just as quickly one of them screamed and fell from his mount, with an arrow impaled through his neck. The other two pulled back on their horses searching the area.

Unsure what to think, Alexander didn't dare look around. He still had two opponents. Three if he counted the man he'd injured, who moved closer to the other two and seemed to be sitting straighter in the saddle.

"Withdraw." The injured man's voice was low as he spoke, the entire time glaring at Alexander. The injured man was surrounded by the others and then the three men galloped away.

Moving back behind trees, he studied the surroundings. Where was the archer?

He considered giving chase but thought better of it. He'd been lucky that only one had fought him. He wasn't about to press his luck and try to fight three.

However, it was imperative he find out where they hid, he considered waiting and then following them.

"I would nae go after them," a feminine voice stated. "Injured dogs are dangerous."

A lone woman emerged from behind a tree. Dressed in dark green breeches and matching tunic, she held a longbow in one hand and the reins to a beautiful gray gelding in the other.

She was not tall, but neither was the lass slight. There was a sense of assurance about her as she walked with even steps, her shoulders back, and an impassive expression. Her skin was a rare color of golden autumn leaves, her eyes a beautiful sunset brown, and her lips were plump, the kind that most men would kill to taste.

As she walked closer, her gaze moved over him. "Ye dinnae look to be injured."

The breeze blew a strand of hair across her face, and she brushed it away. Her light brown thick lush curls were pulled back into a single braid down her back. Some tendrils had managed to get free framing the most beautiful face he'd ever seen.

Something about her was very familiar. Her eyes, the shape of her face. The thick lush hair.

Perhaps she was related to someone he knew.

The picture of a young lass he'd known a long time past formed. She'd been perhaps ten and two and had often followed Alexander and his brothers about when they'd played in the woods.

Could it be?

She'd finally come close enough that he could reach out and touch her. Her almond-shaped eyes met his, a playful smile teasing the edges of her luscious lips.

It had to be the wee lass, now fully grown. No longer the cute wee girl he remembered, but a vision that made his mouth go dry.

"Na-Nala?" Alexander stuttered. "Is it ye?"