Graeme sent up a silent prayer for time to slow to a halt.

This moment was perfect. He only wished he was lucky enough for it to last forever.

Anna was in his arms, her sweet scent drifting all around him even through the driving rain. Her soft curves pressed into him in all the right places. Hell, he didn’t even notice the dull ache in his right thigh beneath the lushness of her bottom.

Just as he’d noted upon first laying eyes on her in the wagon, she was still as beautiful as he remembered. But now that he was this close to her, there were so many things his memory had glossed over since last he’d seen her.

He’d forgotten how much he loved that pert little nose of hers, and the gentle point to her delicate chin. He knew her smile was from nerves and not genuine happiness at being in his embrace, but poor fool that he was, he would take it and be grateful all the same, for she never looked prettier than when her pink lips curved and her cheeks flushed rosily.

He hadn’t seen her since March, nearly four months past. He’d been traveling from the Highlands to the Lowlands, for his cousin Colin had urged him to join the Bruce’s siege on Berwick castle that was to take place in April. He’d stolen a kiss from Anna before he’d left, assuring her that he would write as soon as the siege was over to confirm that he was well.

But then that bloody arrow had pierced his thigh, and the fever and his slow recovery had laid him low.

It had been May before he’d written to her, eager despite his scar and limp to spread his heart at her feet and claim her as his bride.

And then he’d gotten a month and a half of silence, followed by the announcement of her engagement.

Graeme shoved the dark thoughts aside, trying to cling a little longer to this perfect moment with Anna.

Soon enough, they’d stop for the night, and then she would explain all the reasons she didn’t want him anymore—the injury that made him limp, the unsightly scar that she would no doubt be repulsed by, his lack of position within his clan, the fact that he was a MacKay instead of a Munro, and on and on.

Afterward, his final delusions that there was still something between them would be good and crushed. But until then, she was soft and warm in his arms. The tail end of her golden plait poked out from beneath her cloak’s hood, brushing against his arm. She’d leaned back against him a few hours past, her head resting on his shoulder.

God, why couldn’t this ride last forever?

But all too quickly, the gray, stormy sky overhead began to darken to lead, then charcoal.

Next to them, Jerome spurred his horse to the front of the group and threw up a fist, signaling that they would stop for the night.

When they drew their animals to a halt a little way off the path, Jerome dismounted and went to Graeme’s horse. He brusquely lifted Anna down from Graeme’s arms and guided her by the elbow under a large tree that provided shelter from the rain.

Graeme dismounted slowly, suddenly feeling all the aches and pains from so many long hours in the saddle. In silence, he and the others tended to their horses, then began to make a rudimentary camp. They built a fire in front of the tree under which Anna stood and began passing around old biscuits and dried venison.

“Even with the wagon slowing us down those first few days,” Jerome said once the men were settled, “we can move faster now that we are all on horseback.”

Jerome’s gaze flicked to Anna, and Graeme felt his jaw tighten. He thought he was blunt to the point of being rude, but Jerome far outdid him when it came to ignoring tact in favor of directness.

“I’d estimate we are only three days from Sweetheart Abbey,” Jerome went on. “Laird Munro will be pleased.”

Graeme stiffened. “Sweetheart Abbey?” he blurted without thinking. “I thought we were going to Lochmaben.”

Jerome turned cool eyes on Graeme. “Laird Munro wishes for the ceremony to take place as soon as Lady Anna arrives. He instructed me to escort her directly to Sweetheart Abbey, no’ far from Lochmaben, so that he could easily go directly from his meetings with the King to his wedding.”

Shite. Graeme hadn’t realized he was literally delivering Anna straight to her wedding—and into the arms of another man. For some reason he thought he’d have more time if he was taking her to Lochmaben instead.

But more time for what? He silently berated himself for his foolishness. It wasn’t as if he could stop the wedding, or convince her not to go through with it. She didn’t want him. In fact, she was about to tell him as much, if he could figure out a way to get a moment alone with her.

As the others settled around the fire, Graeme’s gaze kept tugging to Anna, who stood with her arms wrapped around herself as she stared into the flames. Yet he felt Jerome’s hard eyes on him, no doubt watching to ensure that Graeme didn’t try to get closer to Anna.

But even Jerome had to heed nature’s call eventually. As the other men began wrapping themselves in their plaids and hunkering down against the wet ground, Jerome rose and made his way into the underbrush for privacy.

Steeling himself with a breath, Graeme stalked around the fire until he stood before Anna. As Colin had said, it was best to get this over with once and for all. Then mayhap the hole in his heart could begin to heal.

“Well, lass,” he said, his voice coming out gruff. “Ye wished to say yer piece, so have at it.”

She looked up at him and their gazes locked. Suddenly he was drowning in the perfect blue of her eyes. They swallowed him like a deep Highland loch, and all at once he felt like he might as well be trying to breathe underwater.

“I tried to write back to ye,” she blurted. “But my father wouldnae let me send my missive. He told everyone in the keep no’ to help me deliver it.”

Her hand fluttered up to her heart in the same gesture she’d first made when he’d yanked back the canvas on the wagon.

Graeme felt his brows lower. Why would Laird Ross forbid her from sending a response to his missive? Unless…unless the Laird knew what was in Anna’s heart but could not allow it for the sake of the clan.

His heart suddenly leapt against his ribs, but Graeme would not let himself hope. Not yet, anyway.

“Why wouldnae he let ye respond?” he asked cautiously.

“Because the very day yer missive arrived, he informed me that he wished to begin talks with Laird Munro about a marriage alliance between our clans.”

So she hadn’t been repulsed by the thought of his injured leg, or the fact that he was less of a warrior now that he would likely bear a limp for the rest of his life. The air whooshed from Graeme’s lungs.

Nay, he was jumping ahead of himself. She hadn’t said what her answer to his proposal would have been.

“My father told me that our courtship had to end for the good of the clan. He said it was my duty to our people to secure this alliance with the Munros. He believed that if I wrote to ye, it would only make matters more painful for both of us, and that it would be a kindness to ye to cut things off cleanly.”

Graeme hardly thought leaving a marriage proposal unanswered was considered a clean break, but then again, a new realization struck. Mayhap Laird Ross hadn’t known the contents of Graeme’s missive, in which case, he wouldn’t have been aware of Graeme’s proposal.

Graeme had always gotten the impression that Laird Ross had tolerated Graeme’s courtship of Anna because he thought it little more than an innocent dalliance. It seemed he’d already decided that his only daughter could never marry a MacKay, but until such time as he arranged her marriage alliance, Laird Ross could be permitted to indulge his beloved child’s happiness.

But it had always been so much more than that to Graeme.

From the moment he’d laid eyes on her at a Highland fair two years past, he’d known Anna was the only lass for him. He’d nearly killed himself during the caber toss and hammer throwing events in an attempt to catch her eye. And when she’d finally noticed him, he’d kissed her hand and vowed to remain at her side for the rest of the festivities.

And he had. A fortnight later, when the fair ended and the various clans scattered to their corners of the Highlands once more, he’d kissed her, this time on her sweet mouth, and promised to send her missives regularly, and visit when he could.

As a warrior in Robert the Bruce’s army, his time was usually not his own, but whenever he was in the Highlands, or passing by the Ross keep on his way to the Lowlands, the two met for as long as they could spare.

Even before his injury had made him realize the depth of his love for Anna, he had always planned to propose to her, clan tensions and his own lack of position and power be damned. When two people loved each other so deeply, he’d believed, all that could be overcome.

He’d been wrong, of course. Even if Anna was now telling him what his heart longed to hear—that she’d still wanted him after receiving the news of his injury, that it had been her father and not her who had wished for the union with Laird Munro—as she had said, it changed naught.

Who was Graeme to destroy an alliance between two powerful Highland Lairds, especially at such a delicate and important time for Robert the Bruce’s mission to unite all of Scotland against England?

“Mayhap yer father was right,” Graeme said wearily. “Mayhap it is better this way. We couldnae be together, no’ with our clans so uneasy with each other.”

Anna’s eyes clouded with tears, but she did not break their gaze. “I ken that,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “But I still believe ye have a right to hear the truth. I still love ye, Graeme MacKay. I never stopped.”

Graeme’s breath stuck in his throat as he gazed down at her. It was everything he’d ever wanted to hear, and yet it felt as though his heart was being torn in two for the second time in as many months. What good was love when he was forbidden from seizing it?

“I did write back to ye,” she breathed, once again bringing her hand to her heart. He thought he heard the faint crinkle of parchment, but he couldn’t make sense of why the noise would be coming from the bodice of her dress.

“Even though my father wouldnae let me send it, I replied to yer proposal,” she went on, her eyes holding him transfixed. “My answer was—”

Just then a rustling off to the right had Graeme’s head whipping around. Without thinking, he put himself in front of Anna, using his body to shield her.

“Is that ye, Jerome?” Graeme said loudly, causing some of the guards to stir from their rest.

“Nay.” Jerome stepped from the underbrush a stone’s throw farther to the right than the noise. He looked around warily, for he must have heard the rustling as well.

Another soft rasp of leaves and branches sounded to the left. Just as a knot of dread tightened in Graeme’s stomach, Jerome’s eyes widened.

“Ambush!” Jerome bellowed, yanking his sword free of the sheath on his hip.

The guards sprang from the ground at the same moment that more than a dozen men burst from the trees surrounding them, weapons already bared. The Munros and Rosses barely had time to draw their swords before their attackers fell upon them. The night air exploded with metallic clangs and battle cries.

Graeme jerked his sword from its sheath, wrapping one arm behind him to hold Anna to his back.

“Stay close!” he roared over the sudden cacophony of battle.

Graeme met an oncoming ambusher, blocking the man’s blade from cleaving him in two. He sidestepped but fumbled as his weight came down on his bad leg.

Barely regaining his footing before his attacker’s blade could pierce his flesh, he blocked again, then turned the defensive maneuver into an attack. He slid his blade along his enemy’s, binding it with a twist of his wrist so that he deflected the point of his opponent’s weapon away from him and drove his sword into the man’s chest.

With a scream, the man crumpled to the forest floor, but as soon as he fell, another bandit took his place.

Graeme backed up, pushing Anna backward and trying to buy himself time. His leg screamed in protest at him, making his steps sluggish and awkward. His new attacker’s eyes dropped to Graeme’s right leg as if realizing Graeme’s weakness and his own advantage. A slow smile curled the man’s lips as he advanced on Graeme.

Nay.

Graeme’s stomach spiked with hot panic.

Because of his injury, he would not be able to protect Anna.

His greatest fear had come true.