“I’ll come back for ye, lass.”

Right after he had said that, he’d disappeared, shouting for Saeran—the boy version of herself. It had been a madhouse before leaving. She had forgotten to pack, her horse was not ready, and she smelled like Kane and lovemaking. Luckily, the stench of the surrounding men and horses hid that.

She watched as he rode ahead. Gradually, his proud back faded from view as he vanished into the thick forest. The smile he had thrown over his shoulder, the blood-thirsty grin, had killed a piece of her heart. She should not melt for a man who was clearly looking forward to death, but his strength…his masculinity. The way he turned so tender and patient with her, when he was actually a brutal warrior, made her fall harder and deeper for him.

Sadly, he was not as tender and patient with her when she was a lad. Especially when they were in a hurry.

After half-hearted glaring from Kane, giggles from Connor, and helping hands from Brodrick, her horse, sacks, and self were ready for the trip. Actually, nay. Her self was not ready—not physically or mentally. She could barely lift the sword that Brodrick had given her, and the thought of weilding it made her shudder.

She had wielded a sword one too many times. The man she had stabbed in the back was the one time she had ever had to defend herself in earnest…Her hands tightened around the reins. She had done an amazing job of suppressing the thoughts, with all of her distractions. But, now that she was stuck on a horse with numb legs, they were attacking her with a vengeance so fierce, she had no way to stop them.

Would they encounter the men again on this journey?

She tightened her hands on the reins, lifting her face to the cool breeze of the Highlands. The trees and hills were green and sprawling, beautiful. The air was fresh and crisp, the perfect weather for riding. Their horses were trotting at a steady pace, adding a soft clip-clop to the sounds of birds chirping and the low, rumbling voices of the men she was with. They had just crossed the border between the Shaw and MacLeod lands.

The MacLeods had vast, unkempt lands. Yellow-grey boulders dotted the hills, making the journey less than pleasant. It was still a sight for her eyes, though. She found it hard to believe that men so foul could live in a place so serene.

The men they had been accosted by had looked rough—as if they had been roaming around for a while. They had probably hoped to kill the couple on their outing and take their belongings. Rogues, she thought fearfully. Kane hadn’t killed them, and she doubted her stab to the back had gotten rid of the one man, so there was a chance they were still around.

Fear slid down her back. If they were, would they recognize her? She had dressed herself in her usual garb—trews, shirt, and dirty face. It was unlikely that they would. Plus, the men around her would dispel of the threat before they could get to her. She was not playing the damsel in distress in this instance, but relying on the cold truth. The warriors had death on their shoulders. Killing is what they did. Any threat that came their way would be taken care of immediately.

“I saw you.” Connor’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts, and her heart raced. He grinned at her, unaware that he had frightened her enough to give her grey hairs.

“What do you mean?” she asked, shaking the thoughts out of her head. There was no use thinking about it. What was done, was done.

“You know what I mean, my lad—Ow! What was that for?” he asked, rubbing his arm.

“Do not call me a lady,” she hissed, smacking him on the arm again.

“Why? The laird is smitten with you. If he found out that you’re actually the woman he is lusting after, everything would be perfect!”

Her face flamed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes you do. I saw that seductive look on your face when you came to take Kane from the hall—Lord, everyone there did. Do not worry, though. Everyone was quite relieved—all except Blaine.”

Her stomach cramped. Oh, yes, she knew just how furious Blaine was. Furious enough to tell Kane of their lies in an attempt to make him hate her. She shivered. That was the side of Blaine she hadn’t noticed her whole life—and it terrified her.

“Relieved?” she asked, trying to focus on something other than Blaine. She had done well with avoiding all thoughts of her thus far, and she wanted to keep it that way.

“Oh, yes. Seeing you, and the way the laird followed you out of the hall, gave them all hope.”

“I don’t understand. He was positively a brute before he came with me.”

“But,” Connor said smartly, nearly bouncing in his seat, “he did all the same—which says something! You have him wrapped around your finger, don’t you?” He sighed dreamily, patting his horse on the neck when it huffed as if to tell him to calm down before he was bucked off its back. “That is why you have been so distant lately! Because you’re spending all your time with him. Is he as great in the bed chamber as I think he is?”

She sputtered. “Excuse—no! Connor, that is not something I am willing to discuss with you—”

His eyes widened, and a laugh burst from his chest.

“You little harlot.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I was bluffing—but thank you for proving me correct.”

Saeran groaned, shame burning her chest. She did not regret what they had done—she only regretted that it had been out of wedlock, though it did not matter for her either way. With her barrenness, she was unsuited for marriage. No one wanted a wife who could not bear sons—and neither would Kane.

He needed sons as handsome as he. He needed an heir for his clan, and Saeran could never give him that.

“Do not look so upset,” Connor said, reaching over to pat her hand. “I didn’t mean anything by it, you know. I’m not like the other boys. To hell with the judge, jury, and executioner. If you want to enjoy the life you have, you can’t live it by obeying the standards that society has set for us.”

Connor was right, though he had misjudged her sadness over being barren for something completely different.

“If you want to share yourself with Kane, I am—”

A loud, horrible cough came from behind them. She looked behind her, heart falling to her stomach. Of course Brodrick would hear them speaking during a conversation such as this. She gave him a weak smile, but all he did was stare at the two of them.

Connor’s demeanor instantly changed from playful bantering to serious squire.

“Saeran,” Brodrick said, grunting. “Connor.”

“My lord,” they murmured together.

“Just so ye’ ken, if ye’ speak loud enough, no matter how far back in the line ye’ are, people are going to hear ye’.” He gave them both a nod, then left.

Her heart raced. Had the other men heard the entirety of their conversation? She cast a look at the men, only seeing their backs. No one was looking back at them, not even Brodrick, who rode past them. Everyone was either silent or talking in the form of grunts to one another.

She turned to Connor, eyes wide. “Do you think anyone—”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. He was subdue. “No one heard anything. He happened to show up at the right time. It was but a warning.”

“Why would he issue a warning without a cause—”

“Saeran,” he broke in, narrowing his eyes on her. “Does anyone else know of yer disguise?”

“No! At least—at least, no one should know. Why?” she asked fearfully.

“I’m just curious,” he said. Connor reached behind him, pulling a piece of yellow parchment out of his pocket. “I did not know whether to give this to you or not.”

He handed it to her. Saeran cautiously took it, studying it. She gathered her horses reins in one hand and flipped the parchment over. It was sealed with black wax, no insignia. She ran her finger over the hard wax, meeting his eyes.

“I saw Blaine giving it to Gwen. A couple hours after you and Kane disappeared, Blaine came into the hall with that. She looked furious—like she could have killed someone.”

“Why do you have it?” she asked, gaze returning to the parchment. She bit her lip. Dare she open it? It could just be a list of nothing, something foolish between Gwen and Blaine.

He shrugged, looking ahead. “Someone has to look out for you. The only person I can think of that can make Blaine that angry is you. Seeing as you and Kane were gone for so long, and Blaine looked...angry, well—I took it when Gwen was not looking. I feel that she was meant to deliver it somewhere. The two of them have become more secretive as of late.”

She nodded, swallowing. Saeran knew exactly what he was talking about. She had noticed it as well, as much as she tried not to. When the cold shoulders and rumors had started, Gwen and Blaine had stuck together more and more. Saeran had yet to meet the infamous Gwen who seemed to have a hand in everything, but she sounded like Saeran used to be—Blaine’s footman, willing to do anything to please her.

She felt a moment of pity for Gwen, and anger at herself. She had been that weak—Lord, in a way, she still was. Saeran still refused to acknowledge everything her sister had done up to this point. Now, though, with the parchment in her hands and the bad feeling in her stomach, she highly doubted she would be able to put it off now.

“I didn’t give it to you sooner because we were all so busy,” he said, grimacing. He still didn’t look at her, his eyes facing forward, voice sad. She felt the worry coming off him in waves, and had to imagine how hard it must be for him—to not only cater to the laird, but also to her. Saeran reached over, giving his arm a quick squeeze.

“Thank you, Connor,” she whispered. He met her eyes.

“You’re welcome, my lady.” A smirk lit his face, but she didn’t reprimand him. With trembling hands, she slid her finger under the edge of the parchment and pulled up. The hardened wax tore, some of it crumbling onto her lap, and then it was open.

The seal had been broken.

Saeran held her breath as she unfolded the yellow letter. Her heart was like dead weight in her chest.

She knows. I’m sorry. I had planned to meet you at the church, but current events have held me back. I’ve sent a serving woman in my place, as you now know from reading this. In a moon, I may be able to meet you in Birkshire. When time permits, I will be at the boulders. My condition has become critical.

I love you,

Blaine.

Saeran read the letter over again, frowning. She knows? Who knows? Meet who? Blaine was meeting with people? Saeran skimmed the letter once again, then flipped it over. There had to be more. Blaine didn’t love anyone—except for Blaine herself.

“What does it say?” Connor asked, peering over her hand. She shoved the letter at him, still scowling.

“I have no clue. She was supposed to meet someone. Read it for yourself.”

“Who, though?” Connor murmured, scanning his eyes over the parchment. “’Boulders’, ‘Birkshire’.” He looked at her, eyes narrowed. “That’s the village we are camping outside of. There’s a ring of boulders behind the whor—” He stopped, clearing his throat. “There’s a ring of boulders near the blacksmiths.”

“But who was she going to meet?” she asked, picking absently at the wax pieces in her lap. She rolled it around in her fingers.

“A lover?” he asked, raising a brow.

Blaine? A lover? She shuddered. “I’m not so sure.”

“She did say ‘I love you’ at the end, my lady.”

“That does not mean she has a lover,” Saeran said, wrinkling her nose.

A look of disgust passed over his face as if he realized what he was saying. “Aye. You’re right. Not a lover.”

The word made the two of them shudder.

She reached for the letter. What had she meant by condition? Saeran pushed the thought aside. She was known for lying and exaggerating for attention.

“This is just—when would she have found the time to meet this person before? It seems like she has left the keep to see them,” she asked, eyes scanning the parchment. She kept reading it, expecting something new to pop out at her, but nothing did.

“Aye, it does.” They rode in silence, their hushed voices quiet for a while. She couldn’t stop her mind from thinking, from worrying.

“What I want to know,” she said, “is who knows what? And why is she sorry?”

“Do you think she meant you?”

Saeran raised a brow at her. “What could I know? And why would she apologize for it?”

He sighed. She shared the sentiment completely. She wished she could believe that this was a misunderstanding, that maybe Blaine hadn’t been the one to send the message, but her name had been signed. Mayhap if she hadn’t been furious with Saeran, Saeran could believe that the letter was harmless—but what if it was a lover? She was meant to marry the laird. At least, that’s what she thought. Saeran knew it wasn’t going to happen, but Blaine didn’t know.

It didn’t make sense. Why would her sister—

Her sister.

Blaine wasn’t her sister—she had told her that.

“I know,” she gasped. Saeran could have slapped herself for not realizing it. “She told me we’re not sisters—do you think that could be it?”

Connor was silent. He wouldn’t even meet her eyes. Her excitement over figuring out who Blaine had meant died down a little, and she knew why he was quiet.

“My lady, I know you and Blaine do not have the best of relationships…”

She dropped her eyes to her lap. A forgotten piece of wax was there.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Yes, it does. I know—despite how confident and brave you can sometimes appear—that her words have made you worry.”

A laugh bubbled up her throat, but it was too tight to break free. They didn’t make her worry—her react was the complete opposite. She thought more of Kane than of her sister’s words. In a way, she wasn’t surprised by them. Her growing annoyance with Blaine had given her a clear view of what was really happening—and had made it apparent that Blaine had never loved her.

Even if they had been blood sisters, and Blaine hadn’t loved her, Saeran would still consider Blaine as…not her sister. It was that simple. Right now, she had more important things to worry about.

“Connor,” she said softly, fighting the truth in his words. “What’s meant to be, will be. I’m at the lowest point I can get. The only thing I want to do is make it back home alive, and I doubt even that will happen.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’m going to find out who Gwen was supposed to meet.”