It was impossible not to stare. Fiona Hay was absolutely lovely. Her hair was the color of a raven's wing, with the faint hint of a blue sheen. She was very, very fair of skin. Her features were perfectly set in a heart-shaped face. She had small white teeth, a slim, elegant, straight nose, a lush mouth, and a pair of oval-shaped emerald-green eyes, fringed in thick dark lashes, that were looking directly at him.

"A-Angus Gordon, mistress," the laird finally managed to grate out, tearing his gaze from the girl.

"And yer business with the Hays of the Ben, my lord?" she asked him coolly, ushering him into the tower house.

"I want my cattle back, lady," he said bluntly.

She turned her emerald-green eyes on him, saying as she did, "I don't have yer cattle, my lord. Why would ye think I have yer cattle?" Her tone was deceptively innocent. She led him up the stairs into the hall. "Flora, cider for the laird."

"There are eight head of cattle in yer meadow, mistress," Angus Gordon said evenly as his brother and clansmen entered the hall behind them. "Eight head of cattle were stolen from my herd this very morning. The trail led up the ben to yer meadow, where eight head of cattle now graze. Ye don't have to be clever to solve such a puzzle."

"The cattle in the meadow belong to me, my lord," Fiona said calmly. "They are my twin sisters' dowry. I am sorry ye have lost yer beasts, but those in my meadow are not they."

How could anyone look so sweet and innocent and be so bold a creature, the laird wondered. He knew damned well that the cattle in the field beyond the tower house were his. She knew it, too, yet she could look directly at him and lie without a quiver. She was obviously her father's daughter. Of that he had no doubt, but it would shortly be settled. ' 'My brother has just examined the cows for a specific marking that all my cattle bear. If the cattle bear that marking, then there can be no doubt that they are mine," Angus Gordon told her sternly.