Three days later, not a single sign of MacGregor or his men had been found. The frustration he felt at the continued chase of a man who wouldn’t make himself known left Niall in a murderous mood each night.

Niall had sent a missive to Walter following their return, letting him know that there had been another attack while they were gone, and that the MacGregor and his warriors still eluded him. He’d also asked his brother to inform the king on the matter. If MacGregor was going to continue to antagonize the Oliphant clan, there was every possibility of a brawl breaking out between them and their warriors at the next meeting of the clans.

Strath and Philip had been taking daily shifts, searching out the surrounding lands and ensuring that no MacGregors were in sight. So far there had been nothing. The blasted men were like ghosts, and short of Niall taking a band of warriors to the MacGregor castle and declaring war, there was nothing much he could do about it, save protect his lands, his people, his wife.

But that would be his next step. The only thing that made him waver was the gut instinct that MacGregor would be back. And if the man was going to come back to fight, it would be better for the Oliphant warriors to fight on their own grounds. They’d have more provisions, a better understanding of the land, and a castle to fall back against in case the MacGregors gained the advantage.

In fact, Niall went so far as to send a scathing missive to MacGregor’s castle, with express instructions to his messenger to send it over their castle walls with an arrow in the dead of night and then flee. If that wasn’t a call to war, he didn’t know what was.

That had been days ago, and MacGregor still hadn’t shown his face.

Which was why Niall needed to do more to draw him out.

And the only way to do that was to put himself and his wife in possible danger. When he’d broached the topic with Bella, she’d immediately agreed. But he still didn’t feel right about it. So for the next several days, he’d cautiously laid his bait. First, he’d gotten the idea from their childhood challenge—he’d dressed as a woman and ridden the moors alone. He had several of his warriors do the same, so any MacGregor ghost scouts would see the women riders and believe that the Oliphant clan were no longer on their guard.

The men had made a great game of it, teasing each other about their dress and asking to court one another. But all jokes aside, today was going to be the final test, to see if MacGregor was indeed going to attack.

After spending a morning making love, and assured his men were set around the perimeter of their lands, Bella and Niall took his new bow not quite all the way to the river. He wanted to have a bigger lead time should their enemy approach.

It was a gorgeous morning, and the first signs of spring were starting to show. The snow had melted, and the temperatures had come above freezing. In another couple of weeks, Niall would not be surprised to see some flowers sprouting in the grasses. And he would be here to see them despite the battle that was brewing. He was not going to lose.

Bella twirled in a circle, delighted to finally be outside the castle walls, even if it was as bait to their enemy. Her face was turned up toward the sun, arms outstretched, her bow and quiver full of arrows slung crossways over one shoulder. Soft golden curls fell down her back, moving gently with the breeze, and the delight he saw on her face brought an instant smile to his lips.

To be that carefree…

A raven cawed from one of the trees, sending a flock of them jolting from a tree beside the riverbank.

Niall was immediately on alert, eyes scanning the river and the trees for anything unusual. Were the MacGregors already in place, ready to attack? But he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Bella rushed up to him, circled his waist with her arms and leaned up to kiss his chin. “Ye worry so much. It has been a sennight or more since they last attacked, and with your men riding around the holding dressed as women for days, dinna ye think the MacGregors would have attacked by now if they were going to?”

“I canna say what goes through the mind of a madman, love. In fact, I want to go back to the castle. I dinna like this. ’Twas a bad idea, and I never should have suggested it.”

Bella clucked her tongue. “Nothing is going to happen to us. The men have been searching for days with no sign. Perhaps even now, Walter has spoken to the king and MacGregor is being chastised for what he’s done. He could be rotting in a dungeon, and we might never have to see him or his men again.”

Niall let the set of his shoulders relax, but he didn’t let his guard down completely. “He deserves more than a chastisement.”

“Aye. He does. But he is a powerful chief with a strong army that the king needs. With King Robert trying to gain independence for Scotland, he’ll not risk losing an ally over a clan dispute.”

Bella spoke the truth, which didn’t make it any sweeter going down.

“Och, but ye’re right, my lovely wife. I still loathe the bastard, and if I ever catch sight of him, ’twill take every ounce of self-control I have not to run him through. And if he baits me, if he so much as twitches in my presence, that will be the end of him.”

Bella kissed him again. “Ye’re the better man in every way.”

Niall let himself cave to her kiss, wishing he could convince her to go back up to their bedchamber instead. If he kept kissing her like this, they’d end up making love on the cold ground. Reluctantly, Niall pulled his lips from hers. “Dinna flatter me, lass. We came here to shoot. I still aim to best ye.”

“Do ye? For ye’ve not been able to yet.”

“And ye dinna want to best me?”

“Nay, it doesna bother me that we’re equals.”

Niall wrapped his arm around her middle and hauled her up against him once more. Would he ever get over how good it felt to have her flush to him? “It doesna bother me either, love. Honestly. I am proud of your skill. Have been since ye were a wee heathen.”

Bella laughed. “I know. How about we forget these targets and see if ye canna try and hit all the marks I’ve made on the trees.”

Niall let her go, and they each readied their bows, taking aim at the knots in the trees that she’d used for target practice before.

After an hour or so, they set their bows down to give their arms a rest. They’d tied in every shot, even when Bella had chosen a tree across the river. Niall had insisted on getting the arrows himself each time, muscles taut as he jogged, waiting for the moment his enemy would strike. He could feel it in the air. Feel their eyes on him.

“Let us return now,” Niall said as he tucked their arrows back in their quivers.

“Nay, not just yet.” She spread out a blanket on the ground and pulled out the picnic Cook had packed them. Cold pieces of chicken, hunks of cheese, bread, dried fruit and a wineskin full of wine. “I know it’s not truly spring and a wee bit chilly out still, but I thought it might be fun to have a picnic.” Bella flopped down and tucked her feet beneath the fur hem of her cloak. She patted the place beside her. “Come and sit. I’ll feed ye like lovers do in stories. And when we’re done, we can go back.”

Niall wavered a moment, glancing back toward the castle where men stood on the walls. His archers were prepared to fire at his signal or the first sign of the enemy approaching. Other warriors were training in the fields nearby, pretending to be absorbed in that, versus what they were truly doing, which was scouting the area. “And will ye tell me a story, lass?”

“Aye. What kind of story do ye want? One of adventure? Tragedy? Love?”

“Hmm…” He settled beside her, lying on his side, propped up on his elbow so he had a good sight of the river behind her. “How about all three?”

“Och, a challenge. Well then, I shall begin. ’Twas the coldest winter in the Highlands that had ever come to pass. Lord and Lady Goathead were—”

“Lord and Lady Goathead?” Niall chuckled and raised a brow.

Bella stuffed a hunk of chicken into his mouth with a grin on her lips. “Dinna interrupt, else ye’ll miss the best parts.”

“Aye, my lady, whatever ye say.”

“Lord and Lady Goathead were verra proud of their three daughters—Muddyhose, Crinklynose and Bumblows.”

Niall chuckled, grabbed a hunk of bread and said, “Ye’ll not be in charge of naming any of our hounds.” He quickly shoved the bread in his mouth and laughed around the bite as she gave him a warning look.

Bella, sweet as pie, kept going with her story, face as serious as though she hadn’t just spouted the most ridiculous drivel. She picked up a slice of dried apricot and pinched it between her fingers. “The snow had fallen so thick, it was nearly as tall as a man. In fact, it made it possible that their enemies could climb the snow and scale their walls.” She bit into the apricot and tugged until the piece popped into her mouth. Chewing, she looked around with consideration. “When the men climbed the walls, ready to attack, they came upon—”

An arrow hit the edge of their blanket, pinning it to the ground. From across the moors, they could hear the shouts of warning from their men.

Niall shouted an expletive, and they were both quickly on their feet. Bella grabbed hold of her bow and quiver, nocked an arrow and searched out the enemy. Warriors from the mock training were running toward them and from across the river MacGregors were melting from the woods, charging through the icy waters and coming to shore. Niall bypassed his bow in favor of pulling his sgian dubh from his boot. He threw it across the field and watched it sink into one man’s neck. Without hesitating, he grabbed for the second one in his other boot and threw it at the closest approaching enemy warrior, while Bella shot one warrior and then a second.

Arrows flew down around them from where the MacGregors must be perched in trees.

Niall strapped on his bow, prepared to shoot, but it slipped off his shoulder. There wasn’t time to right it. They needed to run, to get Bella to safety.

“Run, Bella!” he shouted, yanking on her arm and forcing her to quit shooting and to escape from the bastards’ quick approach. His plan had worked. Too well.

They started to run, legs stretching far. He held on to her arm, practically dragging her as he charged toward his own men and the safety of the castle walls. But then Niall heard a terrifying sound behind them.

Hoof beats.

They might have been able to outrun the warriors with the head start they had—but a horse. Not a chance in the world.

Bella heard it, too. She turned around, nocked two arrows and fired them off to take down two men. She did it again, shooting down one man on a horse but missing the other.

Niall felt like everything was moving in slow motion. His wife, acting the part of a warrior and trying to protect them both from an enemy that was destined to win. The horses drew nearer, and then they were upon them. Niall grappled one of the warriors, tossing him to the ground, but it wasn’t enough. Another lifted Bella off her feet, tossed her weapon and swiftly retreated.

“Bella,” Niall bellowed her name, feeling helpless, foolish.

How had he convinced himself this was a good plan? Baiting the enemy…what a bloody idiot he’d been. MacGregor had outsmarted them, found the weak point in their line and crossed it.

There was only one way he could protect Bella now. Niall grabbed his bow, nocked an arrow, aimed, and said a prayer as he let it fly. The arrow shot through the air, whistling as it went. It glided in slow motion and zeroed in on its mark. His mark. The back of the bastard who had his wife. A breath later, the arrow struck.

The MacGregor rider cried out, arching his back and letting go of the reins.

“Jump, Bella!” Niall shouted, running toward her, dodging the MacGregors who’d finally made it to where he stood. A second later, his own men were there, the clashing of steel on steel echoing in the serene afternoon.

But Bella didn’t jump. With the man now slumping over in the saddle and the horse still barreling toward the woods beyond, she managed to somehow knock him from the horse and take her seat astride the saddle, skirts hiked up around her thighs.

Niall had not known she was an excellent rider, but he supposed he should have, as she seemed to master everything she tried.

Bella gained control of the mount and turned around and headed back toward Niall. She barely slowed down as she came upon him, reaching out an arm as though she would take him up.

Fortunately, Niall was also a good rider. He ran alongside the horse, grabbed hold of the pummel and took advantage of her strong grip on his forearm as he launched his body in the air to settle behind her.

The horse’s stride increased as they rushed toward the castle.

Neither of them spoke, both were out of breath and frantic to get to the walls, likely for different reasons.

Strath passed them as they went, bellowing a war cry as he engaged the MacGregors that swarmed the land like ants.

As soon as Bella was near the castle, he shouted for the guards to open the gate. He was going to send her through, call for a sword and go back out to protect his men.

Through the gates, he tugged the reins to halt his horse. He wrapped his arm around Bella’s waist and lifted her from the saddle, shifting her to the ground as he scooted forward to take her place.

“Philip! Protect my wife.”

“What are ye doing?” she asked, terror on her face as she reached for him.

“What I have to do, lass.” He bent down and kissed her swiftly. There was no time to linger.

“Nay, Niall, ye canna go back out there.”

The anguish he saw on her face was enough to make him falter, but there was no other choice. If he didn’t take care of MacGregor now, what was the likelihood that Bella would survive another attack? He could not do this to her again. This was the battle they needed to settle once and for all.

“I will come back. If ye must, take your bow and arrows to the ramparts. Ye can fight from there.” Never would he have thought to say something like this to his wife before, but Bella had just proven herself more than capable on the battlefield, and he’d be a fool to suppress her. He was also fully aware that should he tell her to go inside, she’d likely do just the opposite.

Before he could say more and hear any protest from her, he called out to one of the men, “Sword!”

A claymore was tossed through the air, and he caught the hilt. With one last longing look at his wife, he nudged the horse back out onto the battlefield. Across the moor by the river, the melee continued. Men struck and clashed. But it was clear the MacGregors were losing men and energy fast.

With his calves holding tightly to the middle of the horse, Niall crashed into three MacGregors, his sword slicing one, the horse running over another, and the third leaping out of the way. Niall circled back around, arcing his sword toward the man who’d narrowly escaped him the first time. Their swords cracked together, but with the other man being on foot, he was no match for Niall on the horse.

By the time he finished with that man, the one who’d fallen was climbing back to his feet and lunging at the horse. Niall blocked the blow to the horse’s neck when he realized the man’s intent and kicked him backward.

“Bastard!” Niall shouted.

The other man shouted something much worse in return and made a vulgar remark about Niall’s wife.

That was the last straw. Niall leapt from the horse, his knees hitting the man in the chest as he took him down and sliced through his neck with the massive sword.

“Oliphant!” Niall turned to see that Strath was beckoning him. The men were retreating to the walls, the MacGregors that had not perished were running back toward the river.

“Nay!” Niall ordered. “There will be no mercy here today!”

He leapt to his feet and ran after the MacGregors. Would they lead him toward Eòran? Cowardly bastard that he was. He’d not dared to show his face, once more sending his men to do his dirty work for him.

They reached the river, the MacGregor men crashing through the water in an effort to escape the madman that Niall had become, as well as the dozen warriors charging behind him. He dragged one man down into the depths, his knee on the man’s chest as he sputtered. Then a man standing on the opposite edge caught his line of sight.

Eòran MacGregor.

The bastard was smiling, such a cruel look upon his deranged face that Niall was momentarily stunned. He let the man he’d been trying to drown up, only to find himself falling backward at the hard shove of his opponent.

MacGregor laughed on the opposite side.

Niall pushed to his feet and used his sword as leverage by stabbing it into the shallow bed of the river. But that moment of weakness was enough for his opponent to recover and lunge toward him, prepared to slice him open.

Thankfully, Strath was there by his side to dispatch the man as Niall recovered. He’d almost died by acting so rash, by rushing into battle without a plan.

Niall pointed his sword at MacGregor. “I challenge ye. Just the two of us. We end this today.”

MacGregor’s smile grew. “I accept.”