Page 9 of The Highlander's Dare
“How is that a secret weapon?”
“Easy, the lasses fall head over heels for a dent in the cheek.”
“‘Head over heels,’ ye say?” Cormac did not sound convinced.
“Aye. I flashed my smile at a lass walking back here and had an instant invitation for bed sport.” Graham grabbed a handful of roasted nuts from the grain sack beside his brother.
“That doesna count if she was a servant or a whore.”
Graham shrugged, chewing around a devious grin. “Doesna matter to me as long as I’m sliding between silken thighs. But that’s beside the point.”
“Nay, brother, ’tis exactly the point.” Cormac looked pained. “Were ye asked to join Lady Clara for a slide between her thighs?”
“Nay, no’ yet, but she is letting me help her get rid of Baston Ross, and I call that a win for the night.”
Cormac’s mouth fell wide. “She’s asked ye to help her murder him?”
Graham nearly spat out his ale and chucked an almond at his brother’s head. “What in the bloody hell did I say that made ye think we were about murder?”
“Ye said, ‘get rid of’ him.”
Graham groaned. “Aye, as her betrothed, no’ to kill him. I mean, ’tis one thing to find him at the end of my lance on the jousting field, but quite another to plan murder.”
“I agree, planning a murder canna be a part of our plans.”
Graham narrowed his eyes, noting that his brother did not mentionaccidentalmurder. “Were ye thinking of murdering Brodie Ross?”
“Nay, nay.” But the way Cormac said it had Graham wondering. “No’ unless as ye said, I was to find him on the battlefield, and it was either him or me.”
“That’s a given for any of these bastards.”
“Aye.” Cormac let out a long-suffering sigh.
“So, as I was saying, ye need to practice your smile. Hone your skills and make that cheek dent work for ye, brother. Lady Isolde will stumble at your feet and practically beg ye to take her. Let me see ye smile.”
Cormac grimaced. “How’s this?”
“Are ye jesting?” Graham frowned and chucked another almond. This time Cormac caught it and popped it in his mouth. “That’s no’ even close. Try again.”
Cormac tried once more, his lips turning upward, but the grimace now had turned into a silent-looking scream.
“Bloody fucking hell, brother. Ye’re terrible at this.” Graham shook his head. “Watch me.” He flashed a winsome smile and added a wink for good measure.
Cormac clutched his chest and pretended to fall backward off the stool, his legs twitching dramatically. “Och, my heart. I canna take it.”
“Try it,” Graham ordered, kicking his brother’s stool.
Cormac snickered and righted himself.
“Ye see,” Graham said, “Ye do know how to smile—ye just did so. But try no’ to make it so… condescending.”
“I was definitely being condescending, brother. I was laughing at ye.”
“Exactly, that willna work with a lass. Pretend I am Lady Isolde.” Graham feigned flipping long hair over his shoulder and batted his lashes at Cormac, offering a flirtatious grin.
“This is stupid,” Cormac said.
“This is war, brother. Now give me a damn smile.”
