The following afternoon, Gwendolyn gave instructions for preparation of the evening meal, then slipped away to the loch that butted the southern edge of the castle property. She pulled her cloak close against the unusually cool summer wind and sat on the cliffs overlooking the water. The tears she’d kept at bay the last month hovered too close to the surface.

“Ye are no’ allowed to cry,” she ordered, but the admonition didn’t stop the twist of her heart at the memory of last night. Caeleb’s gentle wooing was sweeter than honey. How could the man possibly want to spend the rest of his life with her? She was nothing special, and if he had any inkling of what she really was…

Gwen released a slow breath. She’d written the letter that warned them of the Donald’s attack. But she’d also been lying to him for two years. She was a traitor. He trusted her. To stay would be to continue the lies. She wouldn’t do that to him. It was time she left.

One task remained.  

The decision made, she felt no relief, no pain, not even regret. She felt nothing.

Now, she waited.

The oranges and purples that painted the evening sky gradually faded with the arrival of dusk. When the first stars winked overhead, Gwendolyn closed her eyes and prayed, I ask but one favor. Let him forgive me. 

At last, when the full moon hung bright in the cloudless sky, Gwen rose and started back down the path between the dense forest and the loch. She’d gone a dozen steps when a twig snapped within the trees. Disgust roiled her gut. Malcolm wasn’t such an oaf as to give away his presence by stepping on a twig. He wanted to scare her. In the past, she’d allowed him to think he had the edge.

Not today.

She started forward again at a slow pace. “If ye have something to say, do so now. I must return to Dunvegan.”

The frogs went silent and she knew he was following along within the tree line. A moment later, a hulking figure stepped out onto the path before her.

“Ye have learned well,” he said.

“Well enough to know we shouldn’t meet out in the open.” She started toward the trees. 

He grasped her arm and brought her to a stop. “Keep your nerve. Ye would have known if anyone followed you.” He released her. “Dòmhnall wishes to see you.” 

Laird Dòmhnall? She hadn’t anticipated that. Her heart beat faster. Was her sister safe? Of course, she was safe. Malcolm was lying. Dòmhnall had never been the one holding Annabelle as leverage, and the laird didn’t want to see her. Gwen had finally realized that most, if not all, of Malcolm’s dealings with the Sisters of the Sinister Order were at his own behest, not Dòmhnall’s. She wondered how much Dòmhnall actually knew of the Sisters.

“Caeleb joined forces with another hundred and fifty men,” he went on. 

Tears pricked. She hadn’t known it was a trap until Malcolm contacted her with a demand for information. By then, Caeleb and his men were long gone.

“It was almost as if he knew we were coming,” Malcolm said in that soft voice that meant he was baiting her.

Gwendolyn stared into the eyes of her trainer. He’d molded her to think like a leader, fight like a warrior, and to live every day as her last. She had surpassed even his skill. This moment would tell her by just how much.

“We can go to Dòmhnall now.” Gwen watched him carefully. “I will gladly explain that when ye asked for the information, Laird MacLeod had already left. I had no knowledge that more men were sent to meet him.”

Moonlight illuminated the lecherous curve of Malcolm’s mouth. “He will say the same thing I say; you are a woman. Women have ways of learning information. Start using your charms.”

So, he didn’t want her to see Dòmhnall.

“We will fare even better next time,” he said.

Gwen shook her head. “I am done.”

“Done?” he repeated. “I trained you for this. Ye have a duty to your clan.”

“My clan? You cannae mean the Donalds? Even a four-year refuge does no’ mean your clan is mine.”

“Dòmhnall will no’ take this lightly,” he snapped.

She held his gaze. “I have done everything he asked of me. My task is complete. Release my sister.”

“You know, ‘tis no’ that simple.”

Anger rammed through her. She had buried a brother. She would not lose Arabelle. “I will give ye one more piece of information. Then you release my sister,” she said.

“When ye have information—”

“I have information now,” she cut in.

He waited.

She shoved her hands into her pockets to hide their tremble. “We are in agreement?”

“Depends on the information,” he replied.

“You can finish off another large number of MacLeods,” she said.

He hesitated, then nodded.

“In five days, the MacLeods plan to attack Castle Borthal.”

He frowned. “That is a three-day ride to the south.” His eyes narrowed. “Why did ye no’ tell me this before?”

“Caeleb has grounded the birds. I had no way of contacting ye. I came here tonight in hopes you would contact me. Ye can be there when they arrive and kill them all.”

He nodded. “Well done.”

She hardened her stare. “I have done my part. Produce my sister by tomorrow or I will retrieve her myself.”

He grinned. “There is the spirited lass I know.”

“Tomorrow, Malcolm. Maggie’s inn. If ye dinnae bring Arabelle, your head will be the first I put on a spike.”

His eyes jerked onto something behind her, then he lunged into the woods.

Her heart pounded. Sweet God in heaven. Gwen whirled to face the intruder.

Tommen.

Had he heard their conversation? She remained rooted to the spot.

Tommen stared, his stunned expression easily visible in the moonlight. Then anger tightened his features. “What have ye done?” He started toward her.

Gwen retreated. He halted.

“ ‘Tis no’ what you think,” she said.

“Nae? You mean to tell me, you were not talking to our enemy? Ye will return with me to Dunvegan to face Caeleb.”

Her heart thundered. What could she say? I’m sorry, I’m a spy, but I lied to them. I didn’t betray you—not really. Even she wouldn’t believe that. Tommen took a step forward. She retreated. She needed to run, but he was a giant of a man. His long legs would outpace her in seconds.

“Forgive me, Tommen.”

His mouth contorted with anger. “Forgive ye—”

Gwen took a step toward him, dropped to a squat and yanked his ankle with her booted foot. He crashed into the brush. With a curse, he started to shove to his feet. She scooped up dirt and threw it at his face. He bellowed and clawed at his eyes.

Gwendolyn spun and raced up the hill. As she neared the cliffs, she unfastened her cloak pin and allowed the cloak to fall to the ground. Taking a deep breath, she leapt off the cliff.