It amazed Caitlin how quickly life could change. Just when she’d been most certain of Rodric having forgotten what they had once been to each other—tying her to one of his friends as though she were livestock being led to a pen—he confessed his love and everything seemed fresh and new.

If there was never any other good in her life, if everything went terribly wrong after that, she wouldn’t mind. He loved her. She would never need doubt it again.

It was obvious that Brice understood what had passed between them. The little smile and wink he favored her with said as much. She grinned, too happy to be embarrassed.

When he turned to Rodric, his smile disappeared. “We might have another two or three hours of travel at most,” he explained, pointing to the clouds which built up ahead. “It looks like this will be quite a storm.”

“And I’d so grown accustomed to riding over dry road, too,” Rodric replied with a roll of his eyes. “Well, we’re close enough to Duncan territory that we would’ve made it well before nightfall were it not for the storm. If it passes quickly, we might still be able to reach the manor house by the end of the day.”

They set out then, all of them riding with fresh determination. Knowing there was a plan in place, or at least the hope of a plan, renewed her energy and gave her confidence. Rodric thought highly of the Duncans, who she knew were a powerful clan.

If they thought as highly of him and agreed to provide support, she might just be able to escape her marriage, after all.

The thought made her smile in spite of her general discomfort. Riding for days had left her thighs with a constant ache, and the bugs which thrived in hot, humid conditions such as the ones at present swarmed incessantly around her head and that of her mare. The poor, pitiful creature snorted time and again, shaking her head almost constantly.

“I know, I know. The storm will send them away,” Caitlin murmured, patting the horse’s mane before waving her hand to shoo away another swarm of pesky insects. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, running down her back and pooling beneath her breasts. It was misery.

But she was still happy inside. Glowing, in fact. He loved her. He wanted her.

They exchanged a look, then another, as they rode abreast. It seemed they couldn’t stop glancing in the other’s direction—each time their eyes met, they would smile.

Brice and Fergus, riding in front of them, exchanged a knowing look and rolled their eyes.

Suddenly, a blast of cool wind took them all by surprise.

Caitlin shivered, rubbing her hands over her arms, the sweat which had only seconds earlier made her skin crawl turning icy. The horses whinnied, prancing in place as the four came to a brief halt.

“There’s hail in that storm,” Fergus predicted. “It’s going to be difficult going.”

“Wonderful,” Rodric groaned. “As though we needed another turn of bad luck.”

“Don’t worry,” Caitlin murmured in an attempt to soothe him. “We’ll find shelter before the storm is upon us.”

She was beginning to wonder if they would, however, as the clouds built rapidly until it seemed the entire sky was nothing more than a mass of swirling, seething darkness. The sweat-soaked tunic went cold, her teeth chattering every time the wind kicked up. All around, the trees swayed, leaves and needles being ripped from their branches.

“Damn it all!” Brice shouted, shaking his head. “This is useless!”

“Aye! We had best get off the road,” Rodric agreed, and the four of them left the road in favor of going into the woods. The wind was not as much of a challenge once they were no longer out in the open, but Caitlin shivered harder than ever.

With Brice in the lead, the horses picked their way over the soft soil between the trees. If she hadn’t been so deeply chilled, she might have enjoyed the heady aroma of rich earth and the pines which dotted the otherwise thick clusters of birch, spruce, ash.

“Are you all right?” Rodric called back, riding just ahead of her while Fergus rode behind.

“Cold, suddenly, but all right,” she replied.

“You’re not accustomed to outdoor life,” Fergus pointed out. “It will affect you more strongly than it does us.”

“Aye,” Brice agreed. “Perhaps we ought to ride ahead, Fergus and I, while you two wait here and try to stay warm.”

There was a note of laughter in his voice which she pointedly ignored, as did Rodric. They led their horses aside to allow Fergus to pass, and he rode away with his brother to search for shelter.

“Come down here.” Rodric dismounted gracefully, then held a hand out to her. She followed suit, tossing the mare’s reins over a low-hanging branch before seeking the shelter of his arms.

He was so warm, as though a fire blazed within him. He was brisk, efficient as he rubbed her arms and back. Warmth began to spread through her as though she were taking the warmth that was inside him and making it her own.

The temptation to rest her head against his chest was too great to be denied. He was firm, as unyielding as she’d imagined, the steady beating of his heart a welcome rhythm beneath her ear. His arms tightened, holding her fast, making it impossible for her to escape even if she’d wanted to.

She didn’t want to. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink into the comfort of him, the scent of his skin and sweat a pleasant combination because they were his scents. They were part of him, and she loved all of him, even that which drove her to distraction.

“The rain’s begun; smell the difference in the air?” he murmured, the side of his cheek against the top of her head.

She nodded a moment before a drop of water touched her back, then another. She heard drops hitting the leaves, those drops dripping off onto the ground, the wind driving the rain above the trees and creating a soft roar which she tried hard to ignore in favor of the bliss of being in his arms.

The sound of rustling leaves and snapping branches didn’t stir her from her reverie. She assumed Brice and Fergus had returned. Only when Rodric went a still as stone did she open her eyes.

To find the blade of a sword very near her face.

“So, Caitlin. I’ve found you at last.” She knew that voice, coming from over her left shoulder.

That sneering, nasty voice. It didn’t belong to her husband.

“So you have, Connor McAllister,” she spat, staying perfectly still for fear of the man holding the weapon. One of Connor’s men. She cut her eyes to the side in hopes of meeting his gaze, but he was just out of her line of vision.

“And who should I happen to find you with?” Connor chuckled. “Your old friend. I should’ve known you’d find your way to each other.”

“I didn’t know you’d taken up the slave trade while I was away, McAllister,” Rodric muttered. “Had I known, I would have returned sooner to ensure you couldn’t sell your stepdaughter into marriage.”

“Sell,” Connor snickered. “I sold no one, lad. I merely drew up a contractual obligation with your brother in order to seal the peace between the clans. And what does this arrogant little lass do?”

“Watch your tongue when you speak of her,” Rodric warned in a low voice, “or you just might find yourself without it.”

“Big talk,” Connor replied with a chuckle. “We’ll see how big a man you are when your brother finds out you’ve been traveling with his wife. I wouldn’t wish to be in your shoes when he gets word, lad.”

“I wouldn’t wish to be in your shoes at any time,” Rodric growled.

Against her, his heart raced faster than ever. He was holding himself back by the thinnest thread, she knew, and with her in the way, he couldn’t strike out at the man holding the sword.

It was very nearly dark there, under cover of the trees, which made it difficult for anyone to see her hand slide beneath his tunic to grasp the dirk she knew he’d hidden there. She’d seen it several times, most recently when he’d dipped his head into the stream—the motion had caused the tunic to ride up over his abdomen, and a flash of metal had caught her eye.

Along with other things.

Slowly, carefully, she slid the dirk from the sheath. He tensed, knowing what she was doing but unable to stop her without giving them both away. Inch by inch she lifted the dirk and then, just as slowly, she lowered her hand until it was free and passed it between their bodies.

He slid his hand between them, too, meeting hers and taking the dirk’s handle from her fingers. It was with a sense of relief that she gave it over—she’d never held such a weapon before and had no desire to use it on another person, even if they threatened her life.

“Duck,” he breathed, just by her ear and just loud enough for her to hear. She did so, her legs bending until she was nearly crouched on the ground. A sharp cry, followed by a groan of pain, and the man who’d been standing behind her fell to the ground in a heap.

Rodric pulled her to her feet, nearly slamming her against the tree he’d been resting on and shielding her with his body. It all happened so quickly.

“My, your training has served ye well, lad,” Connor observed, but with an edge of fear in his voice. How many men had he with him? Surely more than one. One of them had been left to watch Fiona’s house, she recalled. What of the others?

He let out a low whistle, surely to signal those very men.

No one came.

“What seems to be the trouble, McAllister?” Rodric bent quickly, snapping back up with the sword in his hand. He leveled it at Connor, whose hand immediately flew to his side in order to grasp the hilt of his own sword.

Rodric flicked at it, slicing the skin covering Connor’s knuckles, making him hiss in pain and draw his hand back as though his sword burned to the touch. “Keep your hands where I can see them,” Rodric warned.

The rain began pooling at her feet, soaking through her leather shoes and running down the trunk against which her back was pressed. She shivered, colder than ever, but unable to care very much in light of what was taking place in front of her. A thrill ran through her body at the sight of her stepfather’s apparent confusion and growing fear.

“You had to kill them, didn’t you?” Rodric asked. “Kent. Fiona. Why couldn’t you leave them be? They harmed no one.”

“They sheltered her!” Connor roared, pointing at Caitlin who cowered behind Rodric’s shoulder. “They knew what they were doing! She ran from her lawful husband and refused to abide by the marriage contract. They aided her in her refusal. They paid the price!”

“You’re pitiful and weak,” Rodric sneered, the sword dangerously close to Connor’s throat. “Killing innocent people, destroying the farm and the livestock, those working for them. It makes me ill to look upon ye.”

Even in the darkness, Connor’s eyes seemed to glow with fanatical fire. “It makes you ill, eh? You’ve no idea what took place just before we set out for Fiona’s, I’d wager.”

It sounded as though he was taunting Rodric, which made Caitlin’s blood run cold. He’d done something terrible.

“What took place?” Rodric asked, the sword never wavering. It would take more than an idle suggestion to break his concentration.

“Why don’t you ask your older brother? If he’s still alive to tell you.”

She gasped, her fingers digging into Rodric’s shoulders.

Connor’s eyes met hers. “Oh, yes, my dearie. Your loving husband is more than likely dead by now.”

Rodric roared, unable to hold himself back any longer.

Caitlin tried to pull him back but it was no use; she couldn’t have controlled him when he wasn’t in a rage, much less when one had overtaken him. He rushed at Connor, causing the older, slower man to stumble backward until the thick, unmoving trunk of a gnarled birch stopped him.

“Don’t, Rodric!” she pleaded, standing at his side.

He was dangerous, just at the edge of giving in to his rage. His arms shook, his breathing reminded her of a bull on the rampage. The sword trembled ever so slightly but never moved much from its mark: the center of Connor’s throat, just beneath his chin.

“What did you do to him?” he whispered, his teeth tightly clenched beneath lips curled in a snarl. “Tell me!”

“It was his own fault!” Connor spat. “He was the one who began things! He was the one always ready for a fight! He challenged me, called me a thief for not standing up to my part of our agreement, demanded repayment, and finally threatened me. One of his men began a scuffle with one of mine, and your fool brother jumped into the fight!”

“What did you do?” Rodric roared.

“Stabbed him.” Connor smiled. “I ran him through with my dirk, again and again, left him lying in a pool of his own blood before we set out for Fiona’s. We must have just beaten you to it; a shame, since I wouldn’t have minded hearing your screams of terror as you burned to death in that house.”

He looked at Caitlin, their eyes locking for a single, chilling moment. “Both of you.”

Rodric drew his arm back as though preparing to strike a blow and Caitlin gasped, ready to scream.

“Wait!” Another voice called out over everything else, even over the rain which seemed to be slowing down but still filled the air. Her head snapped around in time to see a tall, dark-haired stranger on horseback riding toward them, with several men behind him.

Among them were Brice, Fergus, and Quinn.

“We took care of the rest of them,” Brice muttered, and she noticed a bleeding gash which ran the length of his arm.

“Rodric. Don’t do this,” the man warned, dismounting and standing on Rodric’s opposite side. “He isn’t worth it, and it’s more than likely what he wants you to do now.”

“Why would I want this?” Connor spat, glaring at the stranger.

“Because you have nowhere to go now, Connor McAllister. No one will shelter you. You’ve no clan, no power, nothing.”

“Why? Because Phillip Duncan declares it so?”

Oh! So this was Phillip Duncan! Quinn had reached the Duncans after all. She would have kissed him if things weren’t still so dire.

“Aye, because I declare it so and because I know it to be true. You’ve slain innocent people and only just confessed to murdering Alan Anderson, leader of clan Anderson. You have nothing now, and we both know it.”

Connor trembled slightly, his chin quivering, but his eyes were still hard as flint. “What do you plan to do with me, then?”

“My men will take you to neutral territory, where you will be set free to wander the rest of your days. I have little concern over what happens to you past that point.”

Caitlin watched in awe as two men twice as big as Connor took him by the arms and hauled him to his feet, leading him to a horse. They ordered him to mount, one of them riding behind him.

Phillip turned to Rodric, who still held the sword, and removed it from his hand. “I see we arrived just in time,” he murmured.

“Would that you hadn’t,” Rodric snarled.

“As I said, you would have been granting him the death he most likely wished for,” Phillip reminded him. His eyes fell on Caitlin. “I suppose you’re Caitlin, then?”

“I am.”

“I’m Phillip Duncan. It’s pleased I am to meet ye.” He looked over his shoulder to where Brice and Fergus were both being treated by a woman. “It seems those two were ambushed while searching for shelter.”

“Oh, no,” she whispered, her heart sinking.

“Fear not, lass,” Brice called out with a hearty laugh. “They weren’t long for this world once they decided to tangle with the McDougal brothers.” It seemed as though he was genuinely enjoying himself.

Rodric looked down at her, and in his eyes was a mixture of relief and confusion and still-blazing rage. It was a frightful combination, but she stood straight and tall before it. She would not back down, not when the man she loved needed her.

“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered, placing tentative hands on his chest. He’d killed a man on her behalf, to protect her. It was almost too much to take in all at once.

He touched her cheek, sighing softly as he did, and he seemed to come back to himself—only to jerk away with a grunt. “Alan.”

She knew exactly what he meant. “We can go.”

“We have to go.” He looked at Phillip. “I must go to my brother.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “Take two of our horses. They’re fresher than yours.”

“I’m going as well.” The healer who’d cleaned and bandaged Brice’s wound stood, tossing a long, thick braid over her shoulder as she did.

Phillip all but sputtered in obvious surprise. “You will do no such thing!”

“Phillip Duncan, a man may need my help,” she argued, already mounting a small, black mare. “It’s no more than a day’s ride if we go straight through, is it not?”

“Aye, if it’s just past midday we ought to arrive past midnight if we don’t stop,” Rodric confirmed.

She nodded, turning to Phillip. “I must go. Heather’s looking after Mary. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Sarah, I refuse to allow this!” Phillip blustered.

Caitlin surmised that they were husband and wife. She respected the woman instantly, standing up to such an obviously powerful man as the laird himself.

“I don’t recall asking your permission, as you didn’t ask mine when we first met. Or need I remind you?” She turned her attention to Rodric. “Come. We have no time to lose.”

Yes. Caitlin liked her very much.