Saeran wanted to weep as he once again pulled away from their kiss. It was so wrong for it to feel so right. He was meant for her sister. He was meant to marry Blaine. He was meant…to not even know she existed.

Her heart clenched. She shouldn’t have sought him out. Really, she would have been smarter to stay away from sup altogether. Her sister had planned to propose to Kane. The thought made her sick. Her stomach roiled, and her hands shook.

After her sister had departed and Connor had left, she’d had a moment to face the reality. Her sister was going to propose to Kane.

“Why were ye’ looking for me?” Kane asked, breaking into her morbid thoughts. His eyes were blank when he looked at her. Thankfully, he turned his attention to the pieces of parchment on the desk.

“I…I was told you wanted to see me,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She came forward, watching as he sifted through the accounts she’d previously corrected. When he’d agreed to let her do them, he had forgotten to mention that there were several months of mistakes in the accounts. She was only now correcting them. Otherwise, the desk would have been cleaner.

“Aye, a while ago.”

Saeran didn’t say anything. It had taken her hours of careful thought and brow beating for her to gain the courage to see him again. After her near-death experience in the stables and spending every waking moment reliving their kiss, she’d almost convinced herself that seeing him was a terrible idea.

Of course, her body and mind had completely opposing opinions on what she should do. In the end, her interest in seeing Kane had won.

“What is that?” she asked, hoping to get him to talk. The silence was terrifying. He raised a brow at her, and she gestured toward his hands. He was sifting through the papers with quick, calculative eyes.

“Nothing,” he said shortly, putting papers on the desk and picking up another stack. She knew what they were, but if she hadn’t…He did not want to discuss important things with her. That is expected, she told herself in reassurance. Not many women knew numbers, so why would he expect her to?

An idea occurred to her. She knew how to stop the silence and learn more of her sister’s soon-to-be husband! She ignored the roiling of her stomach the thought gave her and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

He watched her. She smiled with forced pleasantness.

“What do ye’ think yer doing?” he asked wearily, slowly setting down the papers. She gave him an innocent brow.

“What do you mean?” she asked. The look in his eye, the suspicion there, should have worried her. All she wanted to do was learn a little about him. Instead of being terrified, she was quite pleased with his reaction.

Despite his rudeness to Blaine, he was cautious of women. He had the right to be, she thought with another pleased smile. She was going to dissect and learn everything she could about him. For the sake of Blaine, of course. Saeran had no real interest in him. None at all.

She started with her most prominent concern. Whispers of coming war have been running around the keep like cockroaches. She couldn’t have Blaine married to a senseless, warring man.

“I’ve heard rumors that you fight many battles.”

He nodded slowly.

“Aye.”

“Why?”

“What do ye’ mean, ‘why’? Lass, that’s my duty.” He grunted like he couldn’t believe she wouldn’t know better and went to sort through another stack. Saeran frowned at him.

“Your duty is to protect your clan. I do not think that fighting as many battles as you have, have benefitted your people.”

He narrowed his eyes on her.

“I’m the laird here. Do ye’ understand that?”

“Of course I do. As laird, you shouldn’t be waging war. Especially if you are going to be taking a wife!” she said, cross. Did he care so little for his people? Would he care so little for her sister?

“My lady,” he said lowly, coming forward. She clenched her hands together, not knowing what to expect. She had insulted him, but she didn’t much care.

“No,” she said sharply. He paused.

“No, what?”

“No, to whatever you’re about to say to defend yourself. My father was once a Highlander, and he led many a battle—but not as much as you have, my lord. He did it to defend his home and honor. You’re allies with The McGregor—you have no reason to war with anyone! They’re all too terrified of you.”

“Was? Yer father was a Highlander?” He raised a brow.

She stilled. Saeran could have slapped herself for her stupidity.

“Aye, he was. Before I was born. Then he became betrothed to my mother, and moved to the Lowlands with her. She had a fancy for court.”

“I donna know a single Highlander that would lower himself by going to court.”

“Aye, well, he was getting older. He was done with warring, and took to my mother’s estate that he obtained through her dowry. He was never far from the Highlands,” she said, smiling a little at the memory. Blaine never spoke of their parents, and since they’d arrived here, she had been alone with her thoughts. It felt nice to share them with someone, with Kane. “We lived right near the border. They had the Highlander games every summer.”

“Aye, I know of them. My family and I used to go to them every year.” A flash of tenderness crossed his face, but it disappeared as soon as it came.

“Same with ours. Oh, my,” she said, laughing. By that point, she had completely forgotten her earlier anger. “One year—oh, one year, my older sister was meant to be watching me. My parents were speaking with an old friend of theirs, and we got tired of waiting for them to finish. We walked off, and she became distracted by the merchants. I was too young to know how to get around, but I still went off to do my own thing—without telling her. She was quite furious,” she recalled.

“Go on,” he urged, sitting on the edge of the desk. His legs crossed at his ankles and he watched her intently as she spoke. She blushed, but continued. Blaine had never encouraged her tales. Lord, she was lucky if she could get her sister to listen to her for a minute!

“I wandered off to the games. The big tents were all intriguing and lovely. There were so many horses and beautiful ladies,” she said wistfully. “Without my sister, I did not know where to go—I became afraid and—well, I became a scared little girl. I could not find my parents nor my sister, and the people were too busy to help an errant girl. I don’t know how it happened exactly, but I ran into this boy.

“He turned into my hero that day. I didn’t know it, but my parents and sister were searching for me. When they found me, I was sitting behind one of the tents with the boy, our hands and face covered in paint and pastries.” She laughed at the memory of her father’s stunned fury.

“How long ago was this?” he asked. He was watching her with lowered brows.

“Quite some time. I was only a girl, six or seven years.”

“The boy. Was there anything about him that you remembered?”

She frowned. “Well…no—oh! Yes! His mother was pregnant. I remember comparing a large cow to my sister.” Kane’s eyes darkened. She waved a hand at him. “Just her stomach, my lord. She was quite beautiful.”

“Aye, she was,” he said. “The pastries that day were the best I’d ever had.”

She nodded in agreement, then stilled.

“No,” she said, hand covering her mouth. There was no way he could possibly be the same boy from the fair!

“Aye,” he responded, chuckling. “The jester we took the paints from chased us half around the tournament. Do ye’ remember that?”

She nodded, too stunned to comprehend. “But that would mean you were the boy that—”

“Aye. How strange that we were friends when we were young, and know each other now.”

Saeran nodded again. The strangeness of this was too much for her to handle. She stared at him.

“We never learned each other’s names. I cannot fathom…this is so strange for me, my lord.”

“I think we were too busy to learn our names. We had to make the most of our day together. I remember always rushing off to find you the second my family arrived there. When I talked about ye’ Brodrick always called ye’ the wee mystery girl.”

“You’d talk about me?” she asked. For some reason, her cheeks heated. It was silly of her to blush over it. He talked about her all of the time, apparently. Not only to other people now, but back then as well!

“Couldn’t keep my mouth shut about ye’, lass. Mayhap it was fate that we met again, aye?” he said, smiling at her coyly. She blushed.

“Mayhap,” she said softly. Saeran lifted her eyes to his. “My lord, why did you stop coming to the fair?”

He shrugged, and like a candle had been blown out, all tender emotion fled his face. The change in emotion was so abrupt that she frowned. Deep in his eyes, behind the thick veil of lashes, there was pain. Pain…and anger.

“My lord?” she asked quietly, rising to her feet. Something compelled her to touch him, to take his hand in her own. “You can tell me.”

“Tis not something I wish to share,” he said. There was a catch in his voice, one she’d never heard. She smiled, almost tenderly, and threaded their fingers. He looked away from her but didn’t move. After a lengthy pause, where she began to think he really wouldn’t tell her, he looked her straight in the eyes.

“My father was killed.”

The abruptness, the flat emotion in his voice, seared her. She reared away from him, eyes widening.

“Kane…”

His lips lifted, bitterness etched into every line of his face.

“By the king. He commanded the Lowlander bastards to attack, and took my father from us.”

“That…that doesn’t make sense,” she said quietly, staring at him. She knew the agony of losing a parent—she had lost both of hers to a fire. She couldn’t imagine knowing her beloved father had been murdered, though. “The Lowlanders are no match for Highlanders…”

“They are if they come in the dead of night, with none of us prepared,” he snarled, pulling away from her. She stayed in her place, watching him, heart aching. Bitter. So bitter and angry—and she understood.

“Why did the king do that?” she asked before she could stop herself. Saeran cursed. God, she was insensitive. How could she ask something like that? Saeran wrapped her arms around herself, biting her lip. If he didn’t answer, she wouldn’t blame him. Saeran wouldn’t be surprised if he sent her away.

“Why?” he echoed. Kane lifted tormented eyes to hers. She shivered, hating herself for putting him through this. She should have left it alone. She should have let him be, not pushed him into a corner filled with demons of the past. “My father was a foolish bastard.”

His answer shocked her. Heart melting, she stood, reaching for him. He didn’t move.

“Kane,” she said softly, putting her hand on his arm. Vaguely, she realized she was too forward with him. “If you do not wish to talk of this, then you do not have to. Please, forgive me for being insensitive.”

He stared at her. Slowly, gradually, his chest began to heave, like he was fighting for breath. There was so much fury laying in his eyes that she wanted to back away from him, to put a safe distance between them. She didn’t.

When her parents had died, Blaine hadn’t been there for her. She had wanted the contact and comfort of someone else—and something told her that Kane had been in the same position she had been. Alone. Scared. No one to comfort him, who knew what he was going through.

So she stayed. Even though she knew he could kill her in the blink of an eye, she stayed with him through the storm, watching him as his eyes began to blaze. The fury burning so brightly that she could feel the heat of it against her skin as he stared at her.

Through the fiery storm, a bond began to form. She felt it in her gut, in every movement he made. He wanted her to stay—the realization grew in his eyes, replacing some of the fire. She didn’t think her actions were bold when she moved closer to him, close enough that their hips were touching, their breath fanning each other. His hands clenched at his sides. She took one of them within her own.

“I lost my family to a fire,” she murmured. He tensed. “They were not murdered. They did not die a worthy death in battle. A simple house fire took their lives from me.” She lifted her eyes to his. “I may not know exactly what you are going through, Kane, but I do know the pain of having your family ripped from you—and, like myself, being alone when the realization that they are really gone hits you.”

Despite the fact that she was saying this to comfort him, to make him realize he had an ally, tears stung her eyes. She had lost more than her parents that day. She had lost her life, her happiness. Blaine had been cold. Emotionless. Unaffected by the death of her parents. With her new clarity toward Blaine, she knew that—and was infuriated by it. But this was for Kane.

She couldn’t dwell on her sister’s cruelty, or her growing hatred for her.

Thick, heavy arms came around her body. She stilled before realizing that he only wanted to hold her. He pulled her against his chest, securing her tightly against him. Then he leaned against the wall, still clutching her smaller body to his large one.

It wasn’t sexual. It was the complete opposite.

He was silently begging her to comfort him.

Saeran did the only thing she could. She rested her cheek against his warm chest, closed her eyes, and held him back.

“Helen MacLeod was engaged to the Campbell’s son,” he said quietly. He sounded strained, like his throat was too tight to talk. She turned her face into his chest, hearing the pounding of his heart.

“My father wanted her for himself. Had ever since they were children. They were betrothed to be married, until the MacLeods accused my grandfather of stealing a chicken.”

“A chicken?”

“Aye. The MacLeods have always been possessive—even of things that are no’ theirs. The chicken was actually ours. When the MacLeod accused us, my grandfather broke the engagement. MacLeod gave Helen to the Campbells, in hopes of creating a stronger force, one that he could fight with against the Shaws.”

“The MacLeod sounds like a right arse,” she said quietly, wishing she could find all of the MacLeods and teach them a lesson.

“They are the clan that attacked us earlier,” he growled. Saeran stilled, lifting her eyes to his. She smoothed her hand over his pounding heart, feeling the anger rise inside of him once again. She would rather have him be angry than agonizing. The thought of this big, strong man in pain…broke her. “Duncan Shaw, my father, did no’ take well to being told he could no’ marry Helen. Before her marriage, he took her from her keep, and they were married in less than a sennight.”

She gasped. “But that—”

“Aye. It created a war between the Campbells, MacLeods, and the Shaws. If the marriage had no’ been consummated, and she was not found to be pregnant several moons later, MacLeod would have taken her back. The Campbells were willing to forgive her transgressions, until it was learned she was with child.”

“You.”

“Me. The strain of it all was too much for the MacLeod. He died a natural death. Alasdair MacLeod, Helen’s brother, took his place as laird. Unlike his father, Alasdair was actually considerate of his sister’s happiness. When he finally had a chance to see her, he realized how happy she was, and left her alone, so long as she promised to give her first daughter to the Campbells, as appeasement.

“The three clans were finally at peace. I was training with Connor Campbell, who was betrothed to my sister, and Alasdair’s son, Robert. My mother had twins—Annalise and Alex. Annalise was of marriageable age.” He made a rough sound, body stiffening under hers. She inhaled slowly, feeling that she knew where this would go.

“We were out riding. Rogue Englishmen found us. We fought, but we were just lads. We had no chance against seasoned rogues. Two of us survived—Robert and myself. Connor, my sister’s betrothed, was lost. His father found out and sent word to the king. He was furious over his son’s death and wanted retribution for it.

“When the king took too long to respond, he came after me. He hunted me, and almost killed me. His sword was pressed to my neck when my father arrived and put the Campbell in his place. It only infuriated him further.”

He stopped, chest heaving. Saeran wanted to weep. For a laird to attack a boy for the death of his son, when Kane hadn’t had the skill to protect him… It was terrible, and showed just how bad of a man the Campbell was.

“My mother was so distraught,” he recalled roughly. “She wanted to go after the Campbell herself for what he tried to do with me. The night before the Shaw men planned on retaliating for what he did to me, the king finally responded to Campbell’s call for retribution—when no one was ready. We were all asleep. The attack came in the dead of night.

“My father ran into battle, unprepared. My mother hid us away and then left us to help fight. By the time my father’s warriors came to his aid, it was too late. My mother was taken, and Duncan was dead.”