Rob walked along the bank alone, unmindful of the spectacular sunrise splashing the loch with glittering hues of gold and burnt orange. It was only the second time he’d left Davina since Courlochcraig, but there were enough men with her this morn. She would be safe without him for as long as it took him to bathe. But soon he found his need to think clearly prevailing over his need to be clean. So he walked slowly, barefoot over the reeds and mossy rocks, his boots dangling from his hand at his side. He had enough good sense to know that being plagued by thoughts of Davina Montgomery—or Stuart—would lead to no good. But what good was good sense when all his other senses were consumed with her? How would he be able to make wise decisions for his clan if he had to see Davina, talk to her every day at Camlochlin, without being able to touch her again? More importantly, when had his duties to his clan ceased to matter compared to her safety? How could he be so reckless and still consider taking her home knowing who she was? God have mercy on them all, she was the king’s daughter! Aye, he was certain of it now. He’d watched her last eve and the way she stared at Connor and Finn as if they were the brothers she’d been searching for all her life and finally found. Now, the emotion he saw in her eyes when she spoke of the king made sense. She was his daughter…. Hell, he was falling in love with the king’s daughter! ’Twas bad enough that he’d decided to risk God’s wrath by kissing her, by wanting her so badly nothing else mattered. But the bloody king…

When he came to a sandy inlet he dropped his boots and looked out over the loch. She was heir to the throne! She could never be his and the danger she posed to the people of Camlochlin had increased tenfold. Still, now more than ever he knew he had to protect her. He had already decided to continue on with her when he told Will and the others last eve who he believed her to be. Camlochlin was their home and they had a right to know what decisions he was making that could affect their future. As he suspected, the lads agreed to bring her home despite the danger. Aye, they had all gone mad.

How the hell had Gilles’s men found her? How did her enemies know she even existed when it seemed no one else did? Of course, Asher knew who she was, and the Abbess at Courlochcraig knew, as well. Rob understood now why both of them had refused to tell him anything. But what about Davina? When was she going to trust him enough to share the truth with him? Mayhap William of Orange knew of her through his wife, Davina’s sister. Were Monmouth and Argyll planning a rebellion with the Prince of Orange? Which one of them had ordered Davina’s death?

None of those questions mattered when weighed against the fact that she was the king’s daughter. Even if her enemies never found her, her father would surely come for her. What would Rob do then? Would he lead his clan into war over a lass? And what if she wanted to go? What if she knew her duty, and like him, was determined to see it done?

He should send her away now, before he lost his heart, and everything else, to her completely. He should, but he wasn’t going to. Not after he’d kissed her and felt her heart beating frantically against her round breasts. Especially not after she’d kissed him back—her plump, warm lips curious at first, and then as hungry as his own. She was innocent, but her mouth was so sweetly wanton that he was tempted to give up everything in his life just to taste her again.

He tugged his shirt over his shoulders, tossed it to the ground, and stepped into the water. The frigid sting numbing his calves was just what he needed to quell the raging fire Davina incited in him. Squatting, he used a length of his plaid to scrub himself clean. He cupped his hands to gather the water and splashed it onto his face then loosened his hair and ran his wet fingers through it. He would bring her to Skye, keep her safe, and be content with just that for now. Aye, he could do it. As long as no one ever tried to hurt her, he could be content. He would worry about the king—and his own father—later.

He straightened, feeling better, and shook the water from his hair.

“I was looking for you.”

He snapped his head up and knew he was a fool for thinking anything could douse what Davina stirred in him. Just looking at her made his muscles tighten with a need to have her, hold her, protect her. She stood alone, her fingers entwined in front of her, resting on the soft green wool of her skirts. She’d tied her hair up at her temples, exposing her slightly oversized ears, the sweet contours of her face. She was as slight as a veil, utterly defenseless against the storm that lurked in the distance. How could anyone want to hurt her?

She was looking for him. “I am not afraid when I’m with you.” Aye, ’twas worth every tormenting hour spent in front of his father’s sword to hear her say that.

He cleared his throat to keep himself from smiling at her like some watered down, doddering excuse for an English captain. “I was just aboot to start back.”

“Why?” She blocked his path to stop him from going. “Rob, I don’t want you to think you have to…”

“But I do.” He moved closer toward her, drawn by the strength she cloaked around herself, and seduced by the vulnerability she tried to conceal beneath it. Then he remembered who she was and stopped. “I must.”

“No.” She took a step forward. A soft blush stole across her cheeks as her gaze traversed his bare chest and belly, his wet hair streaked across his face giving more depth to the startling need in his eyes. “No, Rob. I won’t let you. You have done so much for me without even knowing why I am hunted. One day, you will understand why I have not told you.”

He already did. She did not trust him.

“I will not risk your life until then.”

When he opened his mouth to speak, she held up her palm, stopping him. “I’ve already asked Connor to take me away.”

Rob wasn’t sure whether to laugh or go find Connor and punch out a few of his teeth. “He isna’ takin’ ye anywhere,” he told her instead, not caring how hard he was scowling at her.

“No, he isn’t,” she agreed, moving dangerously closer to him. “He is suddenly very eager to return to England. But he has assured me that he is as gallant a man as you and has agreed to have his men escort me to Ireland without question. No one will find me there.”

Was she mad? Ah, God help him, was he? “I will find ye,” he vowed. He did not expect her eyes to go all soft and liquid on him, or the effect her tears would have on the last shred of his good sense.

“No, Rob, please.” Slowly, she lifted her fingers to the wound in his shoulder. The wound she’d given him. It was almost completely healed now. She touched it and his muscles twitched beneath her fingertips. “You don’t understand—”

“Then help me understand, Davina.” He could have told her then that he knew the truth—that Connor knew it as well. But he wanted her to tell him—to trust him with her life.

“It is too dangerous,” she said softly. “I won’t have you hurt… or worse because of me. I’ll be safe in Ireland.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. ’Twas all he could do to keep them there and not drag her into his arms. He couldn’t have her, but he was going to keep her alive. “Ye’ll be safe with me.”

When she looked at him her eyes were full of regret. “But no one else will be.”

Rob knew she understood what protecting her meant and once again, she was trying to protect him, finding some inner strength to turn him away. It made him ache even more to protect her. And he would. Her enemies would not find her in Skye, and if they did, Rob would slash open their throats before they reached Kylerhea. “My clan will stand behind my decisions. They are MacGregors and if they need to fight, they will. And we will win.”

“You sound so certain,” she told him, drifting closer still until he could feel her breath on his chin when she looked up at him. “So sure that all will be well. You make me believe it too. But I…” She closed her eyes and moved now to step away. “I cannot…”

He snatched her back, hauling her to his chest with a force that knocked the breath out of her. He didn’t care who the hell she was. He’d never cared about England or her kings before, and he wasn’t going to start now. “Trust me, Davina.” He bent to her and brushed his mouth over hers. “Trust me,” he found himself pleading, wanting it from her more than he’d realized, more than desire, more than possession.

Her smile was all the answer he needed, but when she flung her arms around his neck, he smiled back and covered her mouth with his.

“Very well then,” she whispered…, breaking their kiss. “There is something I would like to tell you. But later.” She smiled again, blushed, and then met the passion in his kiss when he lifted her off her feet.

“Rob.” Connor’s voice wrenched Davina’s mouth away as she turned, scarlet to her roots. Her mortification was made complete by the sight of Edward standing at Connor’s side and wearing a look of crushed disbelief on his face.

Connor, on the other hand, didn’t look surprised at all by the couple’s passionate embrace, but he did spare Rob a measured glance before he spoke. “We grew alarmed when ye didn’t return, Miss Montgomery, but I see ye are in good hands.”

When Davina slipped down his body and out of his arms, Rob’s initial instinct was to grab for her hand and pull her back, but she was already halfway to Asher. Clenching his jaw to keep himself from calling her back, Rob watched her captain lead her away.

“We’ll be leaving shortly.”

Rob turned his glacial gaze on his old friend. “Then be on yer way, Connor.” He pushed past him and bent to retrieve his boots. “But she’s stayin’ with me.”

“Ye’re still taking her to Camlochlin then?”

“Aye.”

“Ye’ve thought this through, Rob?”

“Aye, I have.” When Rob straightened, his eyes, eclipsed by his damp, dark locks, were level with Connor’s. “And I willna’ be moved on it.”

“I understand ye have formed an attachment to the girl,” Connor said, hurrying to catch up when Rob strode off. “But nothing can come of it. If we are correct about who she is, the king will never agree to a union between the two of ye.”

Pausing, Rob turned on him, his voice rigid with control. “Hell, d’ye think I dinna’ know that?”

“Judging from what I just saw, I don’t think ye care.”

Rob rarely lost his temper. He’d found, thanks to his constant training, that when he did, ’twas very difficult for him to get it back and noses usually got broken. He did his best not to lose it now with a friend. “If I didna’ care, I would have…” He ground his jaw around crass words that were not in his character to utter. “I’m no’ Tristan.”

“I know,” Connor told him sincerely, seeing the storm pass. “And that’s what concerns me. Ye are not reckless.”

Rob turned away, knowing where the conversation was heading and preferring not to hear any more of it. Da—vina and Asher were just up ahead and he kept his eyes on them as he walked.

“I will do as ye asked me last eve,” Connor said, catching up again. “I’ll warn the king of Monmouth’s, and possibly William of Orange’s plans, but keep from him the truth about his daughter’s rescue until we know more, but ye cannot bring her to Camlochlin, Rob. ’Tis too dangerous.”

“I have nae choice in the matter, Connor,” Rob told him. “And as long as ye dinna’ tell the king where she is, she will be safe. Whoever wants her dead willna’ find her there.”

“Mayhap ye’re correct, but what if ye’re not? The Admiral found her once already.”

“Aye, and I am curious to know how he did,” Rob said. Something pricked at the edge of his memory, but when he reached for it, it eluded him. “There must be someone at court who knows of her existence. That is why I ask ye no’ to tell the king that she lives.”

“Rob,” Connor stopped him just before they reached the campsite. “Though I spent my years at Camlochlin with Mairi and Tristan, I consider ye my brother. I don’t agree with what ye’re doing, but I’ll stand by ye on it. I’m leaving six of my men with ye to escort ye to Oban. I have a small ship docked there and my men will take ye to Sleat. ’Tis faster than traveling on horseback, and the men can be trusted to deliver ye without revealing yer whereabouts should anyone question them.”

Rob nodded and smiled for the first time that morning. “Ye have my gratitude, Connor. I know I ask much of ye by keepin’ the truth from the king—” Connor drew in a deep breath, proving the task would be a difficult one. “—When ye get to England, try no’ to get into trouble with Tristan, and remember how many daggers Mairi keeps under her skirts.”

Connor laughed, then looked over Rob’s shoulder at Davina. “Keep my cousin safe, and yer heart in yer chest, old friend.”

“I will,” Rob promised, knowing he could accomplish at least one of the two tasks.