Two

Darach wanted to kill the lass—or at least toss her in the loch and end his misery.

As weak as she’d been yesterday, today she wouldn’t sit still, rubbing her soft ass against the vee of his thighs as she squirmed in front of him on Loki, craning to look at the view through a break in the trees, turning to talk to the others, reaching for the stallion they’d stolen from Fraser.

He was in a state of perpetual arousal, and it was apparent she was oblivious to it, unaware she excited him something fierce when she touched his thigh or leaned forward to whisper in his steed’s ear. If they were alone, and if she were willing, he’d lift her skirts and plunge deep inside.

She wriggled again just as he imagined her soft, wet channel surrounding him, and his cock swelled so tight it was all he could do not to cry out.

Aye, he would tup her good and hard till she stopped squirming and moved her hips with his. Or maybe he’d spread her so wide she couldn’t move at all, just accept his hard length until she reached her peak and convulsed around him.

And she would. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. Caitlin was a very curious woman.

They’d camped last night beside a loch high in the mountains, taking a long loop back through the forest in hopes of confusing any trackers. The conflict would come—Darach longed for it to come—but for now, he would take the time to see Caitlin safe.

She’d succumbed again to that unnatural sleep right after he’d given her his pledge, failing to wake even as they dismounted. He’d wrapped her in his extra blanket and laid her by the fire, then settled close to her. When she cried out in the night, flinging wide his blanket, he reached for her immediately. Her limbs trembled and heat poured off her body, her dress soaked in sweat. She looked around, unable to focus, her big, blue eyes glassy.

“Darach!”

“I’m here, lass.”

“Darach!”

“Hush, Caitlin. I have you. You’re going to be all right.”

A strong smell issued from her body—an herb of some sort. He’d smelled it many times in the sickrooms after a battle.

Christ Almighty, not only had they hit her, they’d drugged her too. The devil help them if they’d raped her. He’d kill every one of them.

“We need to cool her. The fever is too hot,” Lachlan said.

Lifting her gently, Darach hurried with her toward the loch. Removing neither his boots nor his plaid, he splashed into the icy water, then lowered her beneath the waves.

He’d taken off her shoes earlier but had left on her hose and arisaid for warmth. Now the wool dress was soaked. She’d need something dry in the morning when she recovered—and she would recover. He’d given her his oath to keep her safe.

Unfastening the brooch on her breast, the pleats came loose. The garment floated away, leaving only her linen chemise. He removed her hose, gathered her arisaid, and tossed them onto the shore. Gare and Brodie picked up the wet clothing.

“Hang them to dry by the fire and bring me a blanket.” His men returned to camp, leaving Lachlan on the narrow beach.

“Shall I join you, Brother?” he asked.

“Nay, Lachlan. She’s barely decent. She wouldnae want another man to see her like this.”

The lines of her body showed through the garment that covered her. He distantly noted how wee she was, although she was long past the age of childhood—twenty, maybe younger. Her breasts were well formed, with dark areolas and protruding nipples, her waist small, her hips rounded. Her woman’s mound showed against the wet chemise.

He concentrated on her flushed face, tilting her head back to soak her hair. The dark strands floated around her like she was an ancient sea nymph. Seductive. Alluring. His fingers ran through the silky tresses as he murmured all would be well, she’d be safe with him at clan MacKenzie. Cupping his hand, he scooped up water and trickled it over her brow.

She gasped and looked at him, her eyes focused.

“Darach?”

“Aye, love. I’m here.”

Her fingers clutched his chest. “Doona leave me.”

“I’ll not leave you, lass. I promised you, aye?”

She gazed at him a moment, then relaxed. Her eyes closed and her breathing deepened as the heat left her. Darach caressed her face. She turned her cheek into his palm.

Once more during the night, he did this. She was sick too, emptying what little was in her stomach. By sunrise, her color was better and her eyes bright. She slept late into the morning, waking with a hunger to rival Gare’s, demolishing a good share of apples, cheese, and oats as she sat by the fire.

“Even the porridge tastes good,” she said, her smile lighting up her face. It drew him in like the blazing sun. “My mother made pastries that puffed up as they cooked, but she always made me eat my oats first. For a good constitution, aye?”

He could do naught but nod in agreement. She had a childlike enthusiasm that endeared her to the men, somehow seemingly unaffected by her treatment at the hands of the Frasers.

A sweet, pliable lass…until she had seen Fraser’s white devil-horse tethered at the edge of camp. With an excited yell, she’d run toward it. Darach’s heart pounded as he raced after her. He caught her just as the stallion reared and slashed at them with his hooves, missing her by inches. He pulled her back, blood coursing through his veins.

“By the love of Christ, lass, are you trying to kill yourself? Or me? My heart nearly stopped.”

“Cloud would ne’er hurt me.”

“Cloud?”

“The stallion. He rose up because you were running behind me. You gave him a fright. He’s a verra sensitive horse.”

The lass blamed him for almost getting them killed?

“And ’tis most ungodly to take our Savior’s name in vain. ’Tis a commandment, doona you know?” She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head to look him in the eye. “What will you do when you’re standing in front of Saint Michael? Tell him you’re a blasphemer?”

His men, including Lachlan, had stopped to watch, eyes wide and, in Gare’s case, jaw dropped.

Darach heard Lachlan laugh, then mutter, “Christ Almighty.”

Caitlin heard as well, for she spun toward him. “Laird MacKay, didn’t your mother teach you anything? The angels desert you every time you curse. I hope for your sake they’re still there when the devil comes-a-calling.”

Darach would have let her continue just to see Lachlan on the receiving end of her pointed finger, but they’d tarried long enough.

“Caitlin, hush.” A command he knew he’d be repeating often. “We’re leaving now.”

She gazed at Cloud and stepped toward him. Darach blocked her way. He gave her a stare that had intimidated the fiercest warriors. “You willna touch the stallion. You ride with me.”

She looked over at Loki, standing proud in the morning sun, his coat glossy, his mane and tail a darker gray than the rest of him. “He’s certainly a bonny lad,” she said, then walked over and leaned into his side, waiting for him to acknowledge her. Finally he did, and when he huffed at her, she huffed back. He swished his tail and she laughed. “What’s his name?”

“Loki.”

Her eyes widened. “After the trickster god?”

“Aye, he was a mischievous colt. You had to stay one step ahead of him like Odin with Loki, or disaster would strike.”

“Surely not.” When he nodded, her eyes danced. “Are you Odin, then?”

He tried not to smile. “Maybe.” Moving beside her, he laced his fingers together for her to use as a step. “Mount up, lass.”

She did, putting her foot in his hands and swinging her leg over Loki’s back. Darach averted his eyes as her skirt rode up her leg, but he couldn’t help glimpsing silken hose over a slender calf. He grabbed the reins and quickly swung up behind her.

That’s when the real trouble began.

Half a day of her squirming on Loki in front of him. Smelling fresh and clean like the loch with a touch of woodsmoke, like the flowers and leaves she picked from the trees along the way. Smelling like a woman. Like Caitlin.

’Twas a god-awful torture.

“Verily, Lachlan, you donna care to marry?” Caitlin leaned around Darach as she spoke to the MacKay laird, nudging Darach’s shaft as she did so. It pulsed eagerly, and he gritted his teeth.

“Nay. ’Tis not in the stars for me, lass.”

“But surely you like women?”

Lachlan snorted. “Aye, I like women.”

“You willna speak on this with the lass,” Darach interrupted, pushing a branch out of the way so it wouldn’t scrape her. “She’s too innocent for such talk.”

“I’m not that innocent, Darach. I grew up on a farm.”

His arms tightened around her of their own accord, thinking of what she might know about tupping. She leaned back against him. It surprised and pleased him to hear her humming a light, happy song. Surely a lass who’d been carnally abused wouldn’t be so merry.

“I am lucky you found me, Darach. I wouldnae have liked being with the Frasers. They treated me poorly.”

Darach’s heart stilled. “Aye, lass. But you were unconscious for most of it, were you not?”

“Aye. But they dragged me along, and the laird hit me about the head. ’Twas not a pleasant experience. But if it led me to the MacKenzies, ’tis a blessing in disguise.” Her arms covered Darach’s as they held her around her middle, and she absently caressed him. “I am verra pleased to have met you. ’Tis an honorable clan you lead. I will do my best to be worthy of you all.”

The swelling in his chest caught him by surprise, and he had to clear his throat. He glanced around and saw the other men so affected.

When he spoke, his voice was rough. “You are worthy, lass. No matter what might have happened to you, you are worthy. Doona e’er forget that. It will honor us to punish the men who dared touch you.”

Caitlin slowed her caress, then stopped. She made a sound of understanding and her cheeks flushed. “Och, doona fash, any of you. They did not do what you’re thinking. I have ne’er been…violated in such a way. I was too valuable a prize. And if I had, I would certainly not blame myself, though it warms me to hear you speak so.”

Relief crashed through Darach, and a heaviness lifted from his heart. He heard the others sigh and knew they felt the same. Anger soared again when he thought about her ordeal, but this time it wasn’t weighed down by the dread of rape.

“We will still punish the blackguards, aye? You were fair sick last night. You might ne’er have woken.”

Gare rode up beside them. “And they hit you right hard, lass. Your face is swollen like a dead dog.”

Darach ground his teeth at the lad’s idiot remark. Caitlin lifted a hand to her cheek. “Is it that bad? I would hate to meet your clan looking like a poor, deceased animal.”

“Aye, it is most unsightly.” Then he caught Darach’s gaze and lost his smile. He hurried to the front of the line.

“’Tis not true, Caitlin,” Brodie said, ever the charmer. “You look like a bonny lass with a wee bruise, that’s all.”

Oslow patted her knee. “Aye, and it will rouse the heart of every MacKenzie you meet. ’Tis a badge of honor, lass.”

Caitlin smiled. “’Twas my good fortune you were on Fraser land. Were you visiting?”

“Nay. The Frasers have been our enemy nigh on eight years, e’er since our laird’s father died. They are lying scoundrels and broke an alliance, causing death and hardship to many MacKenzies. But Laird Darach, even as a young man of only twenty, saw through their treachery and saved us.”

Caitlin turned to Darach. “Twenty? You were scarce older than me. Much too young for such responsibility.”

“I was not a lad, but a laird. I had my people to protect.”

She nodded and squeezed his thigh with her fingers. He suppressed a shudder as heat spread out from her touch.

“As you protect me. You are a fine laird indeed, Darach MacKenzie.”

Pleasure welled at her words, but he suppressed it. It didn’t matter if the lass found him worthy. He had given Caitlin his pledge to protect her, nothing else. Since it was obvious she didn’t care to return to her clan, that meant keeping her—and keeping his hands off her.

But he needed to know what had happened that she’d come to be in Fraser’s brutal care. She’d lied to him about not remembering, frightened to give too much away, and he’d let it be. But those lies may put his clan in danger, and that he couldn’t let be.

She stopped chattering, and the ensuing peace was much welcome, but after a while, he began to worry. It was not like her to be so silent, to sit sedately in her seat. He jostled her, but she said nothing.

“Are you sleeping, lass?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer for a time. When she did, she sounded wistful. “Nay. I was thinking if you’ve been laird for eight years, there must be a lady and bairns in your home.”

Oslow snorted. “Our laird no more wants a wife than Laird MacKay. ’Tis a right fankle.”

Caitlin spun around, and he suddenly regretted rousing her.

“You doona want a wife either?”

“Nay.”

“But why e’er not? Surely you jest.”

“Nay.”

“But ’tis your duty to provide an heir, wouldnae you agree?”

“Nay.” His voice was firmer this time, discouraging further conversation. Her mouth dropped open and Darach could see her small, pink tongue. Never had he found a tongue so enticing. Then she started lecturing. She had yet to understand he wasn’t a man to be pressed.

“But you must. Think of your family. Think of your clan.”

He fisted his hand on his thigh. His desire for a wife and child had almost destroyed his clan eight years ago. He would never make that mistake again. Fraser’s sister, Moire, had led him by his cock as well as his heart, and he still fought the shame of it.

Women were all right in general. They had their place—preferably beneath him—but he didn’t want one beside him ever again. He would pick his successor from one of the fine, young MacKenzie men he’d trained.

“A good wife is essential for your happiness,” she continued. “Someone to love and lean on. She’ll take care of your heart as well as your home.”

Darach stopped listening. The idea of leaning on anyone made him shudder.

He decided to go on the offensive—a trick he’d learned from the MacLeod. “What clan are you, Caitlin?”

She hesitated, eyes darting from his. “What?”

“You said you were raised on a farm, so you must remember something.” It was well past time he had some answers.

“Oh, well, that’s not important now, is it? We were talking about you.”

“Nay, you were talking about me. I was asking about your clan. What’s your father’s name, your mother’s name?”

She lowered her gaze, and he saw her chin tremble. “My father’s name was Wallace. My mother’s was Claire.”

“Claire isna a Scot’s name. Is that why you speak French? Did your mother hail from France?”

“Aye.”

“And have they passed?”

“In a fire when I was sixteen. They ne’er made it out of the cottage.”

Darach’s arms tightened around her. “I’m sorry, lass. ’Tis not easy to lose a parent.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry too. I shouldnae press you on your marital decision, howe’er misguided it be. ’Tis not one you would make lightly, I’m sure.”

He suppressed a grin. “I’m sure.”

It was well into the afternoon when they stopped for a rest in a clearing near a small loch. Caitlin groaned as she slipped off Darach’s stallion and rubbed her bottom.

Entranced by the sight of her kneading the tender flesh, he couldn’t look away. She noticed, and a blush covered her cheeks. “It has been many moons since I’ve ridden such a distance.”

Even her embarrassment enticed him. Idiot.

“Stay close so we can hear if there’s trouble.”

Her gaze strayed to the stallion, fighting with Brodie for dominance by a thicket of trees.

“And doona touch the devil-horse.” When she nodded absently, he suppressed a sigh and wheeled Loki toward the loch. It was all he could do not to look back.

At the water’s edge, he wasted no time dismounting, lifting his plaid, and walking in up to his waist, desperately needing respite for his privates. He knew he could take himself in hand—it would have been easier—but it somehow seemed wrong.

As the hardness and heat seeped from his loins, his breathing eased.

“Trouble, Brother?”

Darach checked to make sure Lachlan was alone on the shore before answering. “Aye. You try having that sweet arse rubbing between your thighs for half a day.”

His foster brother laughed so hard he bent over at the waist and had to gasp for air. Grinning, Darach waded back to the rocky beach. His plaid lay flat for the first time since Caitlin had mounted his horse.

“If you like, I’ll ask her to ride with me.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

Lachlan erupted into laughter again. Darach perched on a rock and waited for his foster brother to control himself. They had important matters to discuss.

“Are you through?” he asked when Lachlan settled down.

“Aye. And she does have a sweet arse.”

“You’ve no idea.”

It was another five minutes before they could talk seriously.

“What do you make of it?” Darach asked.

“Fraser either kidnapped her or she was given to him—maybe as a bride. Either way ’twas foul.”

“Aye. Makes me wonder who did the giving. She doesn’t care to tell me her clan, so ’twas likely her laird. I’ve heard such stories.”

“You could force the truth from her.”

“Maybe in time, but I want the lass to trust me enough to tell me on her own. If I’m to be her new laird—”

“I thought you didn’t care to be her laird?” Lachlan wore a sly grin.

Darach grunted in response, then sighed. “’Tis a conundrum. All I know is we’ll prepare for battle—her clan or the Frasers may try to force her return, and she doesn’t wish to go back.”

“Aye.” Lachlan tossed a stone into the loch. The sound echoed forlornly around them. “’Tis a shame she lost her parents. Do you think the fire was deliberately set?”

“I’ve seen much evil in this world. It wouldnae surprise me.”

Lachlan tossed another stone. “Have you thought on marrying the lass? She needs a home. A protector. And you seem sorely taken with her.”

“I’ll marry right around the time you decide to marry.”

Lachlan grinned. “Maybe I’ll marry her and then you’ll be forced to marry someone else.”

He no longer found his brother amusing. “You’ll do no such thing.”

’Twas also becoming a frequent command.

* * *

Sitting on a stump in the woods a wee distance from the clearing where they’d stopped, Caitlin dropped her head to her knees and squeezed her eyes shut. She needed a good cry. Her mother had taught her to never bottle her emotions, and indulging in a self-pitying sniffle now and then always made her feel better.

Ever since she’d thought on Darach being married with bairns, her stomach had churned, and it hurt to take a deep breath. Then to find out he didn’t have a wife because he didn’t want one had thrown her into a right fankle. What kind of a man didn’t want a wife? Her father had adored her mother, although he often said that someday Caitlin would cause a young man as much trouble as her mother had caused him. But he’d never been angry when he’d said it. Nay, usually he would kiss her mother afterward.

She remembered those days fondly. It was only after the fire things had changed.

Her uncle had taken her to the keep and set a guard on her. In the beginning she didn’t care; her grief had been all consuming. She’d wished she’d died with her parents. Certainly she’d desired such an end when she’d been handed over to Fraser in exchange for gold—contracts signed in the devil’s own blood, no doubt.

Now she was glad she’d survived her ordeal.

She pictured Darach staring down at her from Loki—his wide chest, muscular arms, and strong thighs beneath his plaid. Her fingers twitched as she remembered playing with the hair on his legs and forearms—the fascinating feel of him, rough and smooth. Her fingers had often found their way to his exposed skin.

In her mind’s eye, he smiled, and that dimple in his cheek sent her stomach dipping. Heat washed over her, and she shook her head. Darach had offered her help, not love and marriage—and even if he had, she couldn’t accept. Fraser and her uncle had killed those dreams.

Nay, she had the right of it yesterday. She needed to find the only family she had left—in France. Make a home with them, preferably as far away from her uncle as possible.

If she could get to Inverness, then she could cross to the mainland and begin her search. She knew her mother’s maiden name—surely someone would remember a young Claire Fournier from Lyon marrying a Scot named Wallace MacInnes.

A muffled chirping caught her attention, and she looked up. The sound came from the bottom of a tall tree. She hurried toward it and pushed aside twigs and pine needles to reveal a baby bird lying on the forest floor.

The poor dear peered up at her, its cries pitiful.

She knew just how it felt.

Wanting desperately to hold it, she put her arms behind her back. Her mother had taught her never to touch a baby bird if she could avoid it. Instead, she should use something to return it to the nest and hope its mother would continue to care for it.

The nest was up high, and no branches grew beneath for her to climb. She could stand on Cloud, but even then she wouldn’t reach.

Cursing her wee size, she lifted her skirts and ran back for Darach, praying the little bird would stay safe till her return.

When last she’d seen her warrior, he’d been heading toward the loch on the other side of camp. Topping the rise, she saw him on the shore speaking with Lachlan, and her heart lifted. They looked up as she careened toward them.

“What’s happened? Are you hurt?” Darach roared, rushing to meet her.

She shook her head but couldn’t get enough air to speak. Instead, she grabbed his hand and pulled him back the way she’d come. Lachlan followed, and they ran into Gare, Brodie, and Oslow.

“What troubles you, lass? You must speak to me,” Darach demanded.

“’Tis a… I need… You must…” She tried to complete a sentence but had no breath. The other men fanned out vigilantly and Darach pulled her to a stop.

“Nay,” she said. “Come with me. Hurry.”

She tugged again on his arm, and he complied. They reached the spot in the trees where the bird had fallen. Letting go of his hand, she crouched down to check on it. It chirped and looked up at her.

“Ah, wee birdie,” she said between breaths. “’Twill be all right. Darach’s here now.” Turning back, she smiled at him. “It fell from its nest. I canna reach. Perhaps if you stand on Loki you can see it home safely.”

Darach stared at her, disbelief etched into every line of his face. “A bird? This is about a bird?”

“A baby bird,” she said. “It needs our help.”

He closed his mouth. A tiny muscle jumped in his jaw. “MacKenzies, to me!”

The bird chirped with alarm.

“Shush, Darach. You’re frightening it.”

Turning away, he fisted his hands on his hips. The MacKenzies and Lachlan appeared from the forest.

“Caitlin has found a bird,” he said, voice clipped.

“A baby bird,” she corrected.

His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. “Apparently it has fallen from its nest.”

Gare came forward to squat beside Caitlin on the damp ground. “Och, it be a baby all right.” He reached a finger toward it and Caitlin slapped his hand.

“Doona touch! The mother willna like its smell.”

Lachlan snorted, and she looked up at him.

“’Tis true, my mother was a healer of animals and taught me well. ’Tis best if we place the bird in the nest without contact.”

Darach turned to her. She smiled at him. He didn’t smile back.

“And how do you propose we do that?” he asked.

“Well, you’re a big man. You can reach the nest if you stand on Loki.”

He took a while answering. “What I doona understand is why you didn’t tell me this at the loch?” His voice rose, and he stopped to take a breath. “Why were you running like brigands were on your heels and wont to steal you at any moment?”

“’Tis a baby. It could have been eaten.”

“Makes sense to me, Brother.” Lachlan leaned over the bird for a closer look. “I’ll do it for you, Caitlin. Verily, I’m as tall as Darach and much stronger.”

“I’ll do it,” Darach snapped and pushed Lachlan out of the way. “Gare, fetch my horse.”

“Aye, Laird.”

The lad ran toward the clearing, and Darach crouched beside Caitlin, sifting through the leaves. “Are you going to save all the creatures we come upon?”

“Nay. Just this wee birdie.”

He made a skeptical sound and picked up a hard, wide piece of bark that was concave in the center. “Will this do?”

Upon her nod, he gently wedged it beneath the chick and passed it to her. Gare returned with Loki, and Darach mounted beneath the tree, then rose to his feet. The stallion huffed, but it was too well trained to move. Caitlin handed the bird to Darach, who stretched as high as he could, but he was just shy of the nest.

Caitlin expelled her breath heavily. They needed a taller horse.

“Doona fash, lass. We’ll save your chick. I havnae come this far to be defeated.”

“What if you were to stand on Cloud? He’s taller than Loki.”

“The devil-horse?” Brodie asked. “He’d not stand still for a mare in heat.”

Oslow scratched his head. “What if you were to toss the bird? Surely you wouldnae miss?”

“Nay! I forbid it,” she said.

The MacKenzies turned to her, dismayed. Darach looked resigned. Lachlan smiled.

“You canna forbid your laird,” Gare said.

She raised her chin. “I just did, and he’s not my laird. He told me so himself.”

“I wasn’t going to toss it, Caitlin, but if I had, I wouldnae have missed.”

The men turned away to contemplate the situation. Caitlin knew they were going to make a muck of it.

No one noticed when she hurried back to the clearing and approached Cloud. He danced around some, then settled at Caitlin’s soothing words. A food pack stood nearby, and she fished out an apple. The horse’s ears perked up. Caitlin had fed him treats whenever she could at her uncle’s stable.

She untied the halter from the tree and led him toward the men. Truly, she was pleased with herself.

Darach was the first to notice her. “Nobody move,” he said, voice low.

The men looked around, and sounds of concern filled the air. When Cloud stamped his feet, Oslow said a quick prayer to the Virgin Mary.

“Caitlin, step away from the horse,” Darach said.

“You just told me not to move.”

“Step away from the horse. Now.”

Caitlin stepped toward the men and Cloud followed, snuffling her shoulder for more apples. She stroked his nose. “He’s taller than your mount, doona you see? If you stand on him, you could reach the nest. I’ll hold him for you. I’m sure he willna mind.” She turned her head to the stallion. “Will you, love?” The horse nuzzled her again.

Darach slid from his mount and approached her slowly.

“Let him get used to you,” she said. “He doesn’t like men. My uncle brutalized horses.”

When he reached her, he pulled her close. She turned in his arms, back toward Cloud. The stallion whickered nervously, and she placed a piece of apple in Darach’s hand, which he hesitantly raised to the stallion’s mouth. Cloud responded by huffing and throwing his head.

“Doona fash,” she said to Darach. “The calmer you are, the calmer he’ll be.”

She felt Darach’s chest expand against her back and the tension ebb away as he released his breath. Cloud huffed again and took the apple.

“See?” she said with a laugh. “He’s really just an angel.”

After feeding him another piece of fruit, Darach grasped the reins. “All right. We’ll try it your way.”

Brodie moved Loki and they led Cloud beneath the tree. Holding the stallion’s head, Caitlin spoke soft, gentle words to him as Darach mounted.

After dancing around halfheartedly, Cloud calmed and looked for more apple. Gare handed Darach the chick, and he easily placed it in its nest, then came back down.

He pulled Caitlin away from the horse. The stallion tried to follow, but Lachlan distracted him with treats. Darach placed her on his mount’s back and climbed up behind her—all without speaking. Hardly even looking at her.

Unease whispered up her spine. “Darach, I—”

“Doona speak if you know what’s good for you.”

“But I—”

He twisted her around to face him, eyes narrow, mouth drawn tight. “I told you not to touch the stallion. I told you he was dangerous. Have you any idea what it did to me to see you standing there with him at your shoulder?”

Releasing her, he urged Loki into the clearing. The other men had mounted and were waiting. They silently fell into line and headed along the trail.

Caitlin was hard pressed not to cry, and a familiar panic tightened her chest. She’d caused nothing but trouble from the moment she’d met the MacKenzies. Like as not, Darach would return her to her uncle the first moment he could. ’Twas a grim imagining, and she choked back a sob.

She couldn’t go back.

He sighed and his arm came around her, gentle and comforting. She leaned back into his embrace, and her anxiety eased. Maybe it would be all right. Maybe he would still help her get to Inverness and on a ship, so she could find her mother’s family.

“Darach,” she whispered.

“Aye.”

“I’m sorry I worried you. I promise I’ll ne’er cause trouble again.”