Kilts and Daggers by Victoria Roberts Page A

way across the bailey to where Ruairi and Fagan had practiced swordplay earlier in the day. She glanced up and watched the men walk along the walls. None of their faces looked even vaguely familiar. Maybe she wasn’t handling this the right way either. To see the men, she had to stretch her neck to look up high on the walls. That had to be more difficult than being able to look down at them. She smiled when another idea struck her.
    Grace reached the parapet door and closed it behind her. She climbed the steps and lifted the latch on the door at the top of the stairs. The cool breeze greeted her, and she walked to the edge of the wall. This looked like the perfect spot. From here, she could see the men walking along the walls much more clearly than if she was standing on the ground below. She didn’t feel like she was breaking her neck to do it either.
    When Fagan approached a group of his men, she faltered in her purpose. Although these Highland men looked the same with their kilts and long broadswords, somehow she always knew when Ruairi’s captain was among them. She placed her hand on the cool stone and watched the way Fagan tilted his head. She noted his daunting stance and how he folded his arms over his broad chest. She remembered being held in those same arms yesterday.
    â€œStop it, Grace,” she said aloud. “Daniel. You must think of Daniel.”
    Needing to suppress her sinful thoughts, she looked out at the vast ocean, stretching as far as her eyes could see. The amber hues of the sun reflected off the water. She turned to her left, appreciating the trees that were different shades of green, and of course, the beautiful mossy field that lay ahead. Before she knew it, her eyes betrayed her again by returning to Fagan. He turned and lifted his face into the sun, or perhaps he looked directly at her. She wasn’t sure. She stepped away from the wall and paused. After a brief moment, she moved back into place and stole a quick glance.
    He was gone.
    That suited her mood fine. If she was to be a spy for the king, she couldn’t very well be distracted by a certain someone or dwell upon something that could never be. For heaven’s sake, they’d only shared one kiss. She needed to stay true to her purpose.
    Grace’s eyes darted back and forth between the men. Maybe the guard she sought was making sure Ruairi’s lands were safe because she didn’t see him anywhere. She supposed she’d have to try something else. As soon as she turned on her heel, she was greeted by a wall of a man.
    â€œWhat are ye doing?” Fagan looked suspicious about her motives.
    â€œI came up here for a breath of fresh air. What are you doing here?” She returned the same look he had given her.
    â€œI saw ye watching me.” He folded his arms over his chest and gave her a roguish grin.
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous. I wasn’t watching you. I was…”
    â€œYe were what?”
    When she hesitated and couldn’t look him in the eye, he lifted her chin with his fingers. The touch of his hand was almost unbearable in its tenderness, and her body tingled from the contact. He stared back, waiting in silence as she blinked, feeling light-headed. His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. Near-kisses wouldn’t cause her to swoon. She refused.
    â€œMister Mur—” Her voice softened. “Fagan…”
    When she said his name, some kind of unidentifiable emotion crossed his face. His lips slowly descended to meet hers. Heaven help her. She felt her knees weaken. There was a dreamy familiarity to his kiss, something she couldn’t quite explain. They were from two different worlds, but she couldn’t deny the emotions he stirred within her. It was as if Fagan had a key and had found a way to unlock her heart. It felt as if their souls had known each other in some past life, but she knew that was impossible.
    Carried away by her own