The Enemy and Miss Innes (Tales from the Highlands, #2)

by Martha Keyes

Malcolm smiled and wiped his cheek with the back of his wrist before rubbing Fergus’s head indulgently. It was the first time Elizabeth had seen anything but a frown on the man’s face, and she was aware of a slightly unsettled feeling the interaction brought about, as though she had put together an apparatus but was now left with a piece that didn’t fit.

He suspected that Elizabeth Innes might just be a worthy opponent of Angus MacKinnon. She seemed to have every bit as much resolve as he did. She was at a disadvantage, though. For all her sharp-tongued criticisms, she seemed to have a conscience—something Angus lacked. And it was that disadvantage that roused within Malcolm the precise sort of respect that was entirely absent in his feelings about Angus.

“Fine, then,” she said, shoving the saddle toward him. He accepted the burden and, with a significant look at her, set it on the horse’s back. “I ken ye’re mad at me. Ye dinna understand, and it makes ye angry. But even if I explained it all ta ye, ‘twould make no difference. Ye’d still be angry.” He finished tightening a strap then faced her. “Ye’ve already decided what ye think of me, and persuadin’ a person of somethin’ they’re set against believin’ is a battle lost before it ever begins.”

“Is this yer way of bein’ rid of me again?” he asked. “Because I canna use a hammer anymore?” She laughed. “No. I can do any hammering that Hamish is unable to see to if you will hold the nail.” “Och,” he said, grasping his thumb with his other hand. “I think I’ll let ye hold yer own nail.”

“Weak men cannot stand to see weakness in others, for it reminds them of what they most hate about themselves.”

Over the course of his life, Malcolm had come to know many people who were the worse for deeper acquaintance. Elizabeth was the opposite. The more he came to know her, the more he found to admire in her, and the more grateful he was she had chosen him.

For him, Elizabeth was new life. She had taken him when he was broken, when he had given up, when he had hated himself, and she had chosen him. She had loved what he had condemned as unlovable, forgiven the unforgivable; she had freed him, mind, body, and soul, from his bonds. Every day with her, the darkness he had fought through for so long gave way to more light.