“My family’s estate is just beyond this rise.”

Those were the first words Vivienne had spoken to Kieran in hours. He grunted in response, not knowing what else to say.

That morning, they’d exchanged a few tense words in which they’d both agreed that it would be best to avoid the kinds of intimacies they’d succumbed to the night before.

For his part, Kieran should have been glad, for intimacy was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid for the last ten years. He needn’t confuse lust with emotion. Yet it tweaked his ire to see Vivienne’s cool, composed veneer in place come the light of day. Could she really return to that act now that he’d seen her true, passionate nature?

But of course he hadn’t asked her that. Curiosity about what lay under her surface had been what had gotten him in trouble last night.

So they’d departed the inn without speaking further and had ridden north under a cloud-dappled sky for several hours.

Only now did she speak, pointing northwest beyond the hill they were mounting. As they topped the grassy rise, Kieran expected to see some grand keep surrounded by fertile, vast lands. Instead, a solitary tower house sat in the midst of an unkempt, overgrown plot.

They looked more like unclaimed, open lands than the holdings of a noble family. And it was a far cry from the pristine, wealthy estate he’d always assumed Vivienne had grown up on. In fact, it was downright humble.

He glanced at Vivienne to see if her face betrayed any embarrassment at bringing him here, but to his surprise, her eyes brimmed with yearning and her lips curved in a sweet smile. She tapped her heels against her horse’s flanks to hurry the animal’s descent down the hill and toward the tower house.

Kieran urged his horse after hers, quickly overtaking her. Though he doubted any danger lurked at her family’s estate, he couldn’t be too careful. She ignored him as she reined in her mount a dozen paces from the keep.

The round, conical-topped tower looked to have been built more than a hundred years ago. Mayhap it had once been a defensible holding, but it had long since passed its peak. An additional structure had been built at the base of the three-storey tower slightly more recently, creating what looked like a modest great hall with attached kitchens. Kieran saw no guards or other defensive measures as he swung down from the saddle.

The wooden door on the attached hall swung open just as Kieran was lifting Vivienne from her horse. Instinctively, he angled her behind him, but she slipped from his hold and darted around.

“Madame Claudette!” Vivienne cried, hurrying toward the woman standing in the doorway. The woman stepped into the sunlight with a wide grin on her face. She was perhaps twice Vivienne’s age, and almost as strikingly beautiful, yet the two bore no resemblance to each other.

Madame Claudette wore a plain brown woolen dress with an apron tied over it. Her long black hair, which was liberally sliced with gray, hung in a simple braid down her back. Even from several paces away, Kieran could see the vibrancy of her green eyes.

Just before Vivienne reached Claudette, she pulled up, giving the woman a dignified tilt of the head rather than the hard embrace Kieran would have expected based on how excited she’d seemed a moment before. But ever the proper lady, Vivienne had apparently regained control.

Even with Vivienne’s relatively staid greeting, Claudette smiled warmly, curtsied, and then squeezed Vivienne’s arm.

“What an unexpected pleasure, mademoiselle. I’ll fetch your father.”

Claudette disappeared into the keep, then a moment later, a tall, lean man with blond hair turning to white filled the doorway. He carried a thin cane in one hand, extending his other toward Vivienne.

“Vivi?”

“Papa,” Vivienne cried. Now she launched herself into his arms for an embrace. He chuckled as he hugged her back, his pale blue gaze drifting over her head to rest on Kieran.

“To what do we owe such a wonderful surprise?” the man asked, releasing Vivienne.

“And who have you brought with you, mademoiselle?” Claudette murmured from behind Vivienne’s father.

Vivienne turned and beckoned Kieran forward. “Unfortunately,” she said, her happiness dimming, “the circumstances aren’t pleasant. I’ll explain shortly. This is Monsieur Kieran MacAdams. Kieran, this is Seigneur Lambert de Valance, my father, and Madame Claudette Rougarde, the keep’s chatelaine.”

“Milord,” Kieran said, sketching a faint bow. “Madame.”

De Valance took a step forward out of the doorway, but instead of leaning on his cane, he tapped it on the ground before his feet. “A Scotsman?” he asked, cocking his head as if to listen to Kieran’s voice again.

“Aye, milord,” Kieran replied, a bit puzzled. The plaid around his hips should have given him away for a Scot before his voice had.

The man’s white brows rose in surprise, yet to Kieran’s confusion, he seemed to be staring with those pale, milky blue eyes at some point beyond Kieran’s shoulder.

Then it hit him like a flash of lightning—Lambert de Valance was blind.

Vivienne was watching Kieran closely, her chin lifted defensively as if daring him to make a comment in his usual blunt, ill-mannered way. But all Kieran could think at the moment was how little he truly understood about Vivienne, even after all that had happened last night.

“We had best go inside and sit,” Claudette said. “I’ll make sure Pierre sees to your horses and refreshments are prepared. It seems as though the three of you have much to discuss.”

De Valance moved inside, with Vivienne and Kieran falling in behind him. As Claudette set about making them welcome, Kieran took in the appearance of the small room.

Though far too modest to be considered a great hall, the purpose of the room was much the same. A large oak table and chairs for dining sat against the back wall, with a handful of ancient tapestries hanging over them.

A hearth sat unlit opposite the table. A few well-used, upholstered chairs were clustered in front of it. Off to the right, spiral stairs led up to the tower’s higher floors, and to the left was a door that presumably opened into the kitchens.

That was all. No grand displays of wealth or power, and no indication of how a woman like Vivienne had come from a place like this.

De Valance moved to the table. The fact that he didn’t use his cane told Kieran he was very familiar with the space. He lowered himself into one of the carved wooden chairs and waited for Vivienne and Kieran to do the same.

“Now, ma fille, what are these unpleasant circumstances that have brought you here?”

Vivienne glanced at Kieran, but he motioned for her to speak. She took a deep breath and began with Kieran and the Bruce’s envoy arriving at court earlier that summer.

She explained how she’d recognized William de Soules from his visits to Edward Balliol’s estate, which had not been far from here. And she told her father how she’d aided Jerome and Elaine in unraveling de Soules’s nefarious scheme to dethrone Robert the Bruce and insert Balliol in his stead.

As she continued, her father’s jaw slackened with shock. Apparently Kieran wasn’t the only one who’d taken Vivienne for more of the demure type rather than a bold lady who’d managed to help thwart a traitor. When she described how she’d poisoned de Soules, leaving him incapacitated for nigh on a fortnight before Kieran had dragged him back to Scotland, de Valance cleared his throat.

“In short, milord,” Kieran said when Vivienne was through, “yer daughter did something verra brave, but now she is in danger.”

“Danger?” de Valance said, turning his head toward Kieran. His voice was sharp with worry. “What do you mean, Monsieur MacAdams?”

“Just Kieran,” he said, his gaze flashing to Vivienne. A blush rose to her cheeks, and his own blood stirred at the memory of his name on her lips as she’d come apart last night. He swallowed hard, refocusing on de Valance.

“Though de Soules is being held indefinitely in Scone’s dungeon, he worked to build his rebellion on both Scottish and French soil. Apparently he was secretive about how many allies he had, never letting any one person ken everyone else involved in his scheme. Since de Soules’s treachery and Vivienne’s help in stopping him are now public knowledge, I feared that she would become a target if any of de Soules’s allies sought to avenge him.”

“You feared?” Vivienne cut in. “You told me Robert the Bruce was the one who worried for my safety and decided to send you.”

Kieran barely managed to stifle a curse at his slip-up. The fact was, he hadn’t wanted her to know that he’d been the one to urge the King to send him to France. Aye, he’d told the King and the others in the Bodyguard Corps that he merely saw it as his duty to protect one of Scotland’s allies, but the truth was much more humiliating than that.

From the moment he’d laid eyes on her earlier that summer, he’d wanted to taste those petal lips and feel her soft, graceful body under his. But when she’d risked her life to incapacitate de Soules long enough for his scheme to be unraveled, Kieran had vowed that no harm would come to her. She was like delicate stained glass—too fine and valuable to come to ruin now that she’d been ensnared in Kieran’s world of violence and destruction.

He shifted in his chair under her too-perceptive gaze. “Aye, well,” he said, pausing to clear his throat. “I may have encouraged the King to consider yer protection. Ye did play a part in saving his life, after all. It seemed only right that I make sure ye were safe.”

He turned back to de Valance, but he could still feel Vivienne’s assessing eyes searching him.

“The long and the short of it is, milord,” he went on. “Someone attacked yer daughter at court. I believe it was one of de Soules’s lackeys seeking revenge against her. I’m taking her someplace safe until we can be sure the threat has been neutralized.”

De Valance shook his white head slowly, clearly speechless. Vivienne took hold of his hand and squeezed.

“I-I didn’t want to worry you,” she said, her voice tight. “But I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to visit again, and I had to make sure all was well.”

De Valance reached for her and patted her face, his features softening with paternal love. “Don’t fret over me, ma fille. Claudette takes good care of me now.”

As if beckoned by the mention of her name, Madame Claudette appeared through the door leading to the kitchen. “A meal will be ready shortly. And I’ll have a room made up for the two of you abovestairs, mademoiselle, monsieur.”

Kieran rose from the table. “I’ll be glad for a meal, but if ye dinnae mind, milord, I’d like to make a sweep of yer grounds to look for possible threats.”

De Valance chuckled sadly. “I believe the only threat you’ll encounter is being choked by weeds, Kieran. My lands are…not what they should be.”

“I used to be a farmer, milord,” Kieran said wryly. “Believe me, trying to grow barley in rocky Highland soil taught me an appreciation for nature’s resistance to our control. I’m no’ one to pass judgement when it comes to the struggles of working the land.”

Vivienne made a little noise, and he turned to find her staring at him wide-eyed. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d made assumptions during the time they’d spent together.

“I’ll accompany you,” she said abruptly, rising from her chair. “I can show you the borders of the estate so that you don’t miss anything on your sweep.”

He hesitated, but in truth, he didn’t expect to encounter any real danger. He more wished to orient himself with his surroundings and, if he were honest, puzzle over his new insights into Vivienne.

“Verra well.”