Gillian heard John playing his flute when Callum escorted her to the dungeon later that night. The sweet melody pierced her heart, and she hurried to him.

John groaned when he saw her. “You shouldn’t be here. I’m drunk, sweetheart, and you’re beautiful. It’s too hard, wanting—”

“I’m right here,” Callum objected.

“You won,” Gillian said softly. She reached through the bars to touch her lover’s face. She wondered what Callum would do if she took the key from him, unlocked the door, and begged for an hour alone with the prisoner.

She let John read the desire in her eyes, saw the answering need in his gray gaze. He brought her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles, and she squeezed his fingers, nearly breathless even at that slight contact.

“I wasn’t sure we’d find ye still awake,” Callum said loudly. “What with the hunt at dawn just a few short hours away.”

Moonlight shone through the narrow window, and she remembered the sweetness of his mouth on hers. She gasped at the force of the longing that swept through her.

John mistook the cause of her indrawn breath. “I can win, Gilly,” he said softly.

“Of course you can,” she said.

Callum cleared his throat. “D’ye remember the wild boars up at the east end of the glen last summer, Gilly—on the slope of Benbrankie?”

“Aye. Papa forbade us from going up that way for fear of them. He loves wild boar. He offered a reward to anyone who could—” She blinked at her clansman.

Callum stared back at her, avoided looking at John. “I’ve heard that boar have been seen up there again. I’ve heard the den is somewhere close to that big stand of pine near the burn.”

John frowned. “Isn’t that cheating?”

Callum looked at him innocently. “What is? We’re just discussing family matters to pass the time. Do ye not do that in England? Better than standing here listening to the two of ye pantin’ for each other.”

“Will you go and tell Davy and Cormag and Padraig where to find the boar?” John asked.

Callum stroked his chin. “I suppose I could. Then it would be fair. I could also tell them that Gilly likes to slip out at night for a wee walk, come down here. Perhaps they’d like the chance to do a little wooing in the moonlight, too. That would make it all fair. Davy could have Monday evening, Cormag, Tuesday, Padraig on Wednesday, and ye—”

“Nay,” Gillian said.

“He’s lost one contest, possibly two,” Callum said. “Davy’s men are saying John cheated when he used the chanter and not the pipes themselves. They mean to appeal to your father, and if he decides against him . . .”

Gillian felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Of course, Davy is saying Cormag cheated in the Gillie Callum, had his piper play the tune too slow, and that should count against him. And Padraig says that John’s sword skills cannot be as good as they seemed, that he must have cheated somehow,” Callum went on.

“So what exactly is the score?” Gillian asked.

Callum shrugged. “I’ve lost track. The laird will decide who wins. It seems to me he’ll be more kindly disposed to the one who brings him his favorite meat Want me to draw ye a map of where the boar have been spotted?”

John rubbed his forehead. “No. I’ll find it on my own.”

Her throat closed at the terrible possibility that her father would never let him win fairly. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she dashed it away. He wiped away the next one with the pad of his thumb.

“May the best man win, remember?” he said softly.

“You are the best man, John—the only man for me.” She leaned in and whispered, “Come with me now, we’ll elope. We can be far away by morning, go to one of my sisters—or farther if we have to. Will you do it, John? For me?

* * *

John met Callum’s gaze. The Highlander hadn’t moved a muscle. John saw his frown, noted the tension in his big body, and knew he was waiting for John’s answer. He wondered what the clansman would do. Callum had his honor as well.

“No,” John said. He withdrew his hand, and her hands fell away. She made a small sound of dismay. “Gilly, I will win, but fairly and honorably.”

He saw the silver track of a tear streak down her face. “Is that all? You’ll try to win? You’ll not fight or die for me, leave with me, do anything to have me?”

“He agreed to abide by the rules, Gilly. So did you,” Callum said.

“Callum, may I have a moment with Gilly?” he asked.

Callum frowned, but backed away.

John reached through the bars for Gillian. “Against all the odds, we’re here, together, sweetheart. You were brave enough to kiss me, to fight outlaws, brave enough to choose me. The best choices are never the easy ones. I won’t stop fighting for you, lass, but I won’t steal you.” He cupped her face in his palms. “Your father will only accept me if I win fairly. He has his honor, too. He needs to see for himself that I can win you, hold you, that I’d do anything, dare anything for you, honorably. I will win, Gilly. I won’t lose you. Will you trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” she said.

“Your father loves you, sweeting. He wants the best for you. Let me prove to him that’s me.”

She scanned his face. “Aye.”

John looked at Callum, and the Scot nodded. He came forward to take Gillian’s arm. “Come on, Gilly. We’ll go hunting, fetch a few coneys before dawn. Your man needs a few hours of sleep, and then—” He met John’s eyes. “Go east, up the sunward side of Benbrankie and follow the burn.” He clasped John’s hand. “For what it’s worth, and for Gilly’s sake, I hope ye win. He turned away and went up the stairs, leaving them alone. Gillian threw herself against the bars, into John’s arms, and he caught her mouth against his, kissed her. “Go, lass,” he said, his voice husky. She pulled back, turned to go.

“I love you,” she said and followed Callum up the steps.