Page 172 of The Ranger

They rode for several more minutes until they reached a small clearing. Maida’s jaw dropped despite the hand over her mouth. Seated at a table covered with a white linen tablecloth was a well-dressed man and woman. The latter was a blue-eyed blonde, beautiful, and was sipping from a gold rimmed teacup. The man was also well-dressed and handsome. He had dark eyes, dark blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. He put down his teacup and got to his feet.

“Ah, our other guest has arrived. Lissa, will you join me in greeting her?”

The woman nodded as the man went to the back of her chair, and as any gentleman would, helped her from it.

They were a handsome couple, regal in bearing, and judging from their actions, well versed in the social graces. But there was something about the man that made her back go stiff and her insides quiver.

“Untie her,” he ordered.

Her captor dismounted and cut her bonds. That done he pulled off the saddle and pushed her at two men who, quick to take hold of her, stood her before the couple.

The man looked her over. “Lissa?”

Maida caught his accent. “You’re British,” she said without thinking.

One of the men holding her put a hand over her mouth. This again? She tried not to roll her eyes and fought the urge to bite him.

The woman looked her over, closed her eyes a moment, then tilted her head. “She is Muiraran.”

Maida’s eyes widened. “They knew about Muirarans?!”

“Is she a pure blood?”

Lissa—or whatever her name was—opened her eyes. “I do not think so. Best to test her.”

The Englishman pursed his lips. “Hmmm, she doesn’t look like either of us. But she does look like him.” He tossed his head at something behind them. Maida looked, saw Duncan bound hand and foot on the ground, and screamed into the man’s hand. “Duncan!”

“Your brother, I presume?” the Englishman asked.

She bit the hand of the man holding her.

“OW!” He shook his hand out. “Why you little...”

The Englishman moved so fast Maida didn’t have time to blink. He grabbed the man by the arm and forced him to the ground. “Do not touch what it mine. Is that understood?”

The man cringed. “Yes, sir, Mr. Brennan.”

“Philip, release him. He is ignorant.”

Maida’s eyes widened at the sound of the woman’s voice. It was beautiful. “Who are you?”

The Englishman, or Mr. Brennan, smiled. “That depends on who you are.” He grabbed her by the arm and roughly pulled her to the table. He then shoved her into a chair and pushed her face to the table.

Maida let out a yelp of protest as he fiddled with something behind her, then placed a rectangular object to the back of her neck. It jabbed her, and she let out another yelp.

“Philip,” Lissa said. “You can be gentle.”

“We’ve no time, my love.” He held Maida down, the thing on her neck beeping twice, then once.

“Hmmm, most interesting.” He pulled the rectangular object from her neck but kept her pinned. She sensed he was incredibly strong and didn’t want to anger him, so she went perfectly still.

“I’m afraid, my love, that she is not ours.”

“Nor is the young man. Pity.”

Maida heard the sadness in her voice.

“The boy doesn’t register much Muiraran blood. But this one,” he pressed a little harder on her back. “She’s very different. It must have skipped a generation. She’s half at least, but a powerful half.”