Fiona paced back and forth, feeling useless and angry with Eadan for making her remain in her chamber. One of his men, Osgar, had supplied her with a small dagger as Eadan promised. Now, the dagger rested in its hilt beneath her bodice, and she shuddered at the thought of having to use it.

Usually, she could calm herself by painting, and she’d considered it, but her anxiety was too great. She was also worried about Eadan. Though it was her idea for him to go see Magaidh as a last-ditch effort to avoid an all-out battle, what if Dughall had his men positioned there? What if Eadan was attacked?

She was on the verge of storming to the door and demanding that her guards let her out of her chamber when the door flew open and Eadan strode in. Relief flooded her, but she stilled at the dark and determined expression on his face.

“What happened?” she asked.

Eadan didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and seized her mouth in a kiss. Shock and desire spiraled through her, and she was left breathless when he released her.

“Eadan—”

“It didn’t go well,” he admitted, gruff. “I—I told her I loved ye, Fiona.”

Fiona froze. She met his eyes, and joy seized her at the certainty she saw in them, chasing all her other emotions away.

She hadn’t allowed herself to believe that the depths of her feelings for him were love, wanting to keep the barriers around her heart erect, to protect herself from getting hurt. But she’d known deep down that she loved him, and some part of her had loved him since the moment she’d first seen him in the corridor outside the cellar.

She thought of the strange loneliness that had plagued her for her entire life, that sense of emptiness, the feeling that she belonged . . . somewhere else, but not being able to determine where that was. Well, now she had her answer. It wasn’t where she belonged. It was when she belonged.

Here.

“I love you too, Eadan Macleay,” she whispered.

“Fiona,” he said huskily, stepping forward to cup her face in his hands, raw happiness in his eyes. “I want ye tae stay with me in this time, more than anything, but Dughall—”

“—This conflict with Dughall will end. I choose to stay, Eadan. In this time. With you.”

“Are ye certain?” he asked, searching her eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered. Everything in her life had led her to this moment . . . to him. “With all my heart, yes.”

“My Fiona,” he murmured, shaking his head. “All I want is ye. When this is over, I want tae make ye my wife. My wife in truth.”

Fiona’s heart soared, and she smiled through her tears.

“And I want you to be my true husband.”

He claimed her mouth with his, and she leaned in to his kiss. For several moments, the world around them melted away. Dughall, Magaidh, the guards outside her door. There was only Eadan, his tongue exploring her mouth, his body pressed to hers, his masculine scent infusing her senses.

“My Fiona,” he whispered, when he reluctantly pulled back. “When this is over, I’ll have ye in my bed for days.”

“Is that a promise?” Fiona asked, and Eadan chuckled. But his expression turned serious.

“I’ve called a meeting with the nobles. I’m telling them what Dughall’s done, and then we—"

He stilled at the sound of multiple horse hooves entering the courtyard. Eadan and Fiona turned, hurrying to the window.

Cold dread filled her at the sight. Dughall and more than a dozen of his men rode into the courtyard.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

“Stay here,” Eadan ordered, striding toward the door.

“Wait,” Fiona protested. There was no way she'd remain in this room while Eadan confronted Dughall. “I’m coming with you.”

“Fiona, now’s not— “

“I have my dagger,” she interrupted. “And there’s a pantry adjoining the great hall—I can hide out of sight in there. Have a guard on me if you want, but I’m coming with you.”

A look of admiration paired with anxiety crossed his expression, but he gave her a reluctant nod.

“Ye stay in the pantry,” he said firmly. “And if it gets dangerous, ye get back tae Tairseach and yer own time.”

Eadan held her gaze, waiting for her to agree. She did, reluctantly, but she had no intention of leaving him.

Ronan and several of his men stood outside the door, on the verge of knocking when Eadan and Fiona stepped out. Their eyes went wide with surprise as Fiona stepped out with Eadan, but she gave them a hard, defiant look, joining hands with Eadan.

“I’ve sent word tae the nobles. They should arrive soon. If Dughall and his men attack, they’ll back us up,” Ronan told Eadan as they all strode down the corridor toward the stairs. "As soon as I saw Dughall's men coming, I sent word tae Una tae get the servants out of the castle--they're leaving through the rear. And there are two men on yer father's door. But I don't think Dughall's concerned with any of them."

He met Eadan's eyes, his implication clear. Dughall was here for Eadan. A sliver of dread crawled through Fiona.

When they reached the great hall, Eadan turned to her, raising her hand to his lips. A wave of fear swept over her; Dughall may be on Eadan’s turf, but his men outnumbered Eadan’s.

“Keep her safe,” Eadan said, looking away from her to Osgar. “If—if I’m killed, take her out of here, get her tae Tairseach.”

“Eadan—" Fiona protested, horror filling her at his words, but Eadan was already striding away from her, his shoulders tense as he made his way into the great hall with Ronan and the others.

Fiona looked up at Osgar, the man he’d left to guard her. If Eadan’s order to take her to an abandoned village caused him any confusion, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gestured for her to follow him, his face stoic.

They entered the pantry that adjoined the great hall, and Fiona headed to the door, opening it a crack.

From her vantage point, she could see Eadan striding toward Dughall and his men, who stood in the center of the hall, their hands on the hilt of their swords. Fiona swallowed hard, anxiety tightening her chest at the sight.

“If ye’re here about my visit to Magaidh—” Eadan began, stopping several feet opposite Dughall.

“I’m here tae confront ye about yer lies. He’s lied tae us all,” Dughall roared, his eyes going past Eadan to Ronan and the other men. “I had a word with yer ‘messenger.’ He told me ye and yer cousin paid him tae pose as a messenger who went tae England tae seek an annulment from a priest. A priest who doesnae exist,” Dughall said, his voice rising. “For a marriage that doesnae exist!”

Icy fear coursed through Fiona. This was the moment she’d dreaded since she’d agreed to Eadan’s plan. The discovery of it all being a lie.

She couldn’t let him take the fall for her. She started forward, but Osgar held her back.

“I need to help him—” she whispered, struggling against his firm grip.

“Ye’re tae stay,” Osgar said firmly. “Ye’ll only make things worse for the laird.”

That rendered Fiona still, and she returned her focus to Eadan and Dughall, her heart hammering.

“Tae make certain, I sent my own messenger down to Kington. Villagers there never heard of a Fiona, an Eadan, or a marriage between ‘em in the church records,” Dughall continued, with increasing fury. “Ye made up a marriage tae get out of the betrothal. Ye made a mockery out of the peace I offered.”

Dughall’s men let out shouts of agreement. Eadan, who had remained silent during Dughall’s rant, though his body was rigid with tension, took a step forward.

Dughall’s men went into protective crouches. Eadan held up his hands, palms up, but his eyes were filled with fury as he spoke.

“Aye. ’Tis true,” Eadan said. Behind him, his own men, all except for Ronan, went still with shock. At Fiona’s side, Osgar also froze. “Fiona came tae my castle seeking refuge. But she’s not the one at fault. I forced her tae pose as my bride.”

Horror rendered Fiona still. What was he doing? He didn’t force her to do anything. She started forward again, but Osgar held her back.

“But I did it out of desperation. I knew something wasnae right with yer offer of peace. Ye’ve wanted our lands as long as I can remember. But now I understand what yer true intent was all along. Ye hired my own servant, Maon, tae spy on Fiona. Ye’ve been poisoning my father. When Naoghas realized what ye were doing, he tried tae tell me, but ye had him killed. When Fiona learned from my servant Sorcha that ye were poisoning my father, ye had the poor girl beaten, and now two other servants are missing.”

Dughall didn’t look outraged by his words or shocked by the accusations. But some of his men did, exchanging looks of confusion and disbelief. But Dughall clenched a fist at his side as Eadan continued.

“It just now came tae me why ye wanted me tae marry Magaidh. If my father dies from yer poison, I’d be chief of the clan, owner of the lands. Ronan cannae inherit as he’s not a direct heir. But if I were tae die with no heir . . . the lands of Clan Macleay would go tae my wife and her family. The same lands our clans have been feuding over. Magaidh cared for me once, but she’d not hesitate tae poison me after we wed. That’s why ye didn’t try harder tae put a stop to me and Fiona, though ye must have known we were bedding. It would foster yer daughter’s jealousy, make it easier for her tae kill me when it came time.”

By the look on Dughall’s face, Fiona could tell that Eadan had guessed correctly. Anger and disbelief roiled through her; she recalled the look of pure hatred on Magaidh’s face as she confronted her. She had no doubt that Magaidh was capable of killing Eadan.

“My father is bedridden; yer poison has made him ill, and he cannae be here because of it. I’m glad he cannae see this. Ye are the one who made a mockery of the peace my father tried to sow with ye. Yer scheming and yer killing of innocents ends now, Dughall.”

Dughall’s features contorted with rage, and he withdrew his sword from its hilt.

“When ye die, I will take control of yer clan. I’ll bed yer Sassenach whore, then find out who she truly is,” Dughall roared.

Dughall’s words seemed to shatter Eadan’s barely contained control, and the two men charged at each other, swords outstretched.

As the men in the hall began to fight, Osgar turned to her.

“Stay here,” he ordered, then darted out of the pantry to join the fight.

Adrenaline flowed through Fiona as she reached for the dagger tucked in her bodice. She was no match for the burly Highlanders fighting in the hall, but if it came down to it, she’d do what she could to help Eadan.

Fiona abruptly stiffened when she sensed someone in the pantry behind her. But before she could turn, a firm hand went around her waist and a dagger was pressed to her throat.

“Don’t move, ye Sassenach bitch,” Magaidh’s furious voice hissed in her ear.