The door to Caeleb’s library opened and he looked up from the rolls that lay open on his desk. Tommen closed the door behind him and faced Caeleb. The man’s eyelids were puffy and his bloodshot eyes, thin slits that struggled to stay open.

“Bloody hell, Tommen, what happened?” Caeleb asked. “Did a stray cat try to tear out your eyes?”

Tommen halted in front of his desk. “I found our traitor.”

Caeleb started. “What? The friend who warned us is a traitor? How do ye know?”

Tommen shook his head impatiently. “I dinnae know who warned us of the Donald attack, but I know that Gwendolyn has betrayed us.”

“Gwendolyn?” Caeleb stared in confusion. 

“I saw her with Malcolm Donald.”

“Dòmhnall’s captain?” Caeleb blurted, then before Tommen could reply, “You must be mistaken. Gwen wouldnae betray us.” She wouldn’t betray me.

“I am no’ mistaken, laird. I caught them together. Malcolm ran like the cur he is. Gwendolyn jumped off the cliffs to escape me.”

Caeleb shoved to his feet and rounded the desk in an instant. He seized Tommen’s collar. “You chased her off the cliffs?”

Tommen met his gaze squarely. “Nae, laird. I told her she had to return here to face you. She attacked me, then ran away.”

“Attacked ye?” he growled. “She’s a mite.”

“A mite who tripped me, then threw dirt in my eyes and ran.”

Caeleb’s heart pounded. He felt as if he’d been punched in the belly. Caeleb shoved Tommen away.

“Is she dead?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

 

It took every ounce of will Caeleb had to heed Tommen’s counsel and remain at Dunvegan while Tommen led a small group of trusted men in the hunt for Gwendolyn. Until Caeleb discovered what her association with Malcom was, he had to be careful. If the clan learned she’d met with Malcolm Donald, it would mean the dungeons for her.

Fear pooled in his gut. Gwen was out there somewhere, alone.

Guilt gnawed. He’d trusted her.  What part had she played in the Donald attack? Was she the friend who had left the warning? If so, why hadn’t she come to him?

Caeleb yanked open the desk drawer and pulled out the small box that held his mother’s ring. He opened the box. Had Gwen lied when she said she cared for him? He would have known if she was lying. Wouldn’t he? He tilted the ring and read the band’s inscription. Love conquers all. Caeleb threw the ring across the room. The band hit the stone wall with a tiny clink and fell to the floor.

 

The day wore on. Caeleb fulfilled his duties by rote, then retired early, though not to sleep. He sat in a library chair near the window, until a knock rattled the door.

“Enter,” he called.

Manas, captain of the night watchmen, entered. He crossed to Caeleb and stopped in front of him. “No sign of her, Laird. I searched her quarters as ye requested but found nothing of support or evidence against her. All I found was a necklace.”

“A necklace?”

Manas extended a fisted hand and opened it.

On his palm, lay a thin gold chain attached to a circular pendant no larger than a coin. Three etched stars filled the center of the metal pendant. Caeleb took the pendant and chain. The symbol looked oddly familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen it.

Caeleb gave a curt nod. “Thank ye.”

When the door clicked shut behind Manas, Caeleb continued to examine the necklace. The symbol wasn’t a Clan Donald symbol. Was Gwen a Donald? She’d called herself a MacKinnon.

“Who are you, Gwen?” he whispered, and closed his fist around the necklace.

* * *

Gwen rubbed her shivering shoulders. With her underclothes still damp, the wind cut through her like a knife. She needed shelter. The hidden caves where Caeleb had brought her the day he confessed his love were not much farther up the shoreline.

As the shore curved inland, the mouth of the cave came into view. Dare she stop?

Oh, Caeleb!

He would never believe that she had written the letter warning of the Donald attack. Why should he? For two years, she’d lived in his household, slept in his bed, while reporting MacLeod doings to Malcom. It mattered not that she’d lied and omitted truths. She was a Donald spy. If only Tommen had heard the lies she’d told Malcolm. Perhaps Caeleb would understand that she’d tried to save him and his men.

Gwen looked heavenward. I asked one small favor: let him forgive me. Yet the words had barely been spoken when she’d been exposed. Now there was no chance Caeleb would forgive her.

Her heart fell. The letter she’d written to explain that she’d told Malcolm that Caeleb intended to attack Castle Borthal. It was a complete lie—a lie that would take Malcolm’s men away from Karthmere and leave the castle vulnerable to Caeleb’s attack. Someone had to put a stop to Malcolm’s reign of terror. He would do anything to gain power; including, she suspected, killing Dòmhnall. Gwen had no doubt that he intended one day to rule Skye.

She neared the caves and slowed. Could she go in and face the memories? Wind whipped across her body. Gwen glanced at up at the dark sky. Heavy clouds muted the moonlight. She was being foolish. Sentiment had no place in her life…in her heart. She hurried toward—

The distant baying of dogs stopped her cold. Her heart thumped. They’d found her trail. She sprinted into the woods. Branches scraped her arms and face as she fought through the thick brush. She weaved between trees, where horses couldn’t fit, and ran until she no longer heard the dogs’ throaty howls.