“Logan!”

The stunned voice had Logan whipping his head to the right, where one of the shadowy figures flanking him stepped forward.

None other than Kirk MacLeod stood staring up at him, sword drawn and mouth slack with surprise.

“Ye ken this man? Both of ye?” the man off to Logan’s left asked in a low, cautious voice.

“Aye,” Colin answered before Kirk regained his wits. “He is a bounty hunter with the Order of the Shadow.”

“He was,” Kirk said quickly, re-sheathing his sword. The other two men kept their weapons bared, their gazes sharp on Logan.

“Ye ken Logan helped me destroy the Order,” Kirk went on, leveling Colin with a look. “And ye promised to give the man a chance should he come to us once he—”

Kirk’s dark head whipped to Logan, his pale eyes focusing on Mairin’s huddled form in the saddle behind him. “…once he found his sister. And it looks as though ye have, man.”

A warm smile spread across Kirk’s normally hard features as he stepped toward Logan’s horse. “Hello, lass,” he said to Mairin. “I’m a friend of yer brother’s.”

Kirk extended a welcoming hand toward Mairin, but she sucked in a breath and cowered into Logan’s back.

“She doesnae like to be touched,” Logan snapped. The words came out harsher than he’d meant them to, but Mairin’s fear radiated palpably behind him, and he couldn’t let Kirk’s well-meaning gesture scare her even more.

Kirk froze, looking between Logan and Mairin. “Forgive me. I didnae mean—”

“MacLeod, MacKay,” the man to Logan’s left barked. “One of ye had better explain what the bloody hell is going on.”

Kirk straightened at the man’s commanding voice. “This is Logan Mackenzie,” he said to the dark-headed man who was apparently in charge. “When I infiltrated the Order of the Shadow a year past, he became a…a friend.”

In truth, Kirk had used Logan as an asset at first, a mark to befriend and ply for information on the inside of the powerful Order while Kirk had been passing himself off as a fellow mercenary.

But when Logan had unraveled Kirk’s true identity as a spy for Robert the Bruce, their fates had become entwined—and they were forced to trust each other. Eventually, they’d worked together to bring down the most deadly organization of bounty hunters in all of England.

“Last I saw ye, ye were running errands for the Order and that bastard Roland Gervais,” Colin said slowly, eyeing Logan.

Logan met Colin’s cool stare levelly. The night air pulled taut with tension for a long moment.

“And last I heard of ye, ye’d destroyed the Order at Kirk’s side,” Colin went on at last. He turned to the dark-haired man on Logan’s left. “It is as Kirk says, Ansel. Logan Mackenzie has done Robert the Bruce—and all those endangered by the Order of the Shadow—a great service.”

The man—Ansel—didn’t seem convinced by Colin and Kirk’s words, however. He stared hard at Logan, his dark eyes like blackened knives in the low light.

“The Order of the Shadow, eh? I’ve met one of yer compatriots, Logan Mackenzie,” Ansel said icily.

Logan’s hands tightened around his throwing daggers. The men who’d worked in the Order with him were far from his compatriots. Most were cold-blooded killers motivated only by money. Logan would have gotten out of the organization years ago if Roland Gervais, the head of the Order, hadn’t been holding Mairin captive.

“Mayhap ye remember a man named Clemont,” Ansel went on, his voice dangerously soft. “He and I crossed paths a few years back—when he tried to kill my wife and my adopted son.”

Logan cleared his suddenly tight throat. “I kenned the man, but I had naught to do with any mission he was sent on. That was all up to Roland Gervais.”

“Who is dead now—thanks to Logan,” Kirk interjected.

In truth, Kirk had been the one to deliver Roland’s death blow, but Logan didn’t dare correct him now—not while Ansel continued to glare at him as if looking for an excuse to use the sword in his hand.

“Ye bear a Highland clan’s name,” Ansel said, ignoring Kirk. “Yet what kind of Highlander would join an English bounty hunter league and work against his King—his own people?”

Kirk began to launch another defense of Logan, but Ansel held up a hand to silence him.

“Let the man speak for himself, MacLeod.”

Logan met Ansel’s hard gaze. “I ken who I am and what I’ve done,” he said flatly. “I must live with that, but I dinnae need to explain myself to ye. What Kirk says is true—I used to work as a bounty hunter for the Order of the Shadow. I helped destroy the Order last autumn. Now I am here seeking the Bruce’s Bodyguard Corps.”

Colin clicked his tongue, drawing Logan’s attention. “But why? And why now?”

Logan shifted slightly in the saddle. Mairin still clung to him, her fingers like claws in his tunic. She was shivering slightly despite the mild summer night.

“Kirk told me that if I ever found myself in the Highlands again, I should seek out the Corps,” Logan replied at last. “He said the Bruce was always looking for men like me—warriors who ken how to handle themselves.”

That didn’t even come close to the whole truth. Logan hadn’t simply stumbled back to the Highlands by chance. He’d vowed eleven years past never to return, but Mairin deserved better than that.

And Logan had no desire to join the Bodyguard Corps. He’d had enough of giving his life to other men’s causes. But if that was what it took to place Mairin in the midst of the camp—the safest place Logan could think of—then so be it.

“Kirk told ye wrong,” Ansel said flatly. “The King isnae just looking for warriors. He wants honorable men, men dedicated to protecting the innocent and vulnerable, no’ men who sell their swords—and their souls—as mercenaries.”

“I’ll vouch for him,” Kirk blurted. He dragged in a breath, giving Logan a reassuring nod. “Logan Mackenzie is a good man. I’d put my life in his hands if it came down to it. Allow him to at least train with the Corps, Ansel, and I promise ye willnae be disappointed.”

Colin, who had been silent for the last several moments, spoke up then. “I’ll vouch for him as well,” he said quietly. “I dinnae ken the man as well as Kirk does, but he did indeed rid the world of the Order of the Shadow, and for that he has earned a chance in the Corps.”

Ansel frowned at each of the men, then turned narrowed eyes on Logan. For the first time, he seemed to notice Mairin then. “And the lass? Is she to be admitted into the camp as well?”

“She can keep Lillian company,” Kirk replied even before Logan could insist that Mairin went wherever he did. “And the lass could keep an eye on John and Alice when Isolda visits camp.”

Ansel’s eyes softened a hair’s breadth. Kirk must have just invoked the man’s family on Logan’s behalf. Logan would never be able to repay Kirk for all he’d done this night, but he would try to for the rest of his life.

“Fine,” Ansel said at last. He abruptly turned and stalked off through the night-darkened forest. “Ye’ll start training at dawn tomorrow,” he said over his shoulder to Logan before disappearing into the shadows.

Colin at last re-sheathed his sword with a rueful snort. “Thank God I’m headed back to the Borderlands tomorrow. Last time I trained with Ansel, he left me sore for a sennight.”

“Ye arenae staying then?” Kirk asked Colin.

“I only came to the Highlands for my cousin Graeme’s wedding,” Colin said, shrugging. “It’s a hell of a thing. The Rosses, Munros, and MacKays have formed an alliance for the first time since—well, ever. The things love—or at least a marriage alliance—can accomplish.” He flashed a grin that made his hard features surprisingly warm. “I thought I’d visit the lads before returning to the Bruce’s camp in Lochmaben.”

Colin’s gaze shifted to Logan and his smile faded. “I hope ye ken what ye are doing—both of ye. If no’, Ansel’s displeasure will be the least of yer worries.”

Logan remained silent but didn’t let his gaze falter from Colin’s.

“Aye,” Kirk replied at last, though Logan didn’t miss the doubt edging the word.

With a quick nod in farewell, Colin spurred his horse into motion, heading in the same direction Ansel had gone.

“Let me walk ye into camp,” Kirk said, motioning after the other two.

At last, Logan tucked his throwing daggers back into his sleeves and released a long, ragged breath. “Aye, much appreciated.”

Gently taking hold of Mairin’s wrists, he pried her fingers out of his tunic. “It’s all right, Little Bird,” he murmured, then dismounted, leaving her atop his horse.

“Ye are lucky I happened to be on watch tonight,” Kirk said, giving Logan a wry smile as he fell into step beside him. “Colin may no’ have been able to convince Ansel to leave yer head attached to yer shoulders.”

“And Ansel is…?”

“One of the original members of the Bodyguard Corps, and the one running the training camp. And a Sutherland.”

Logan shook his head slowly. “Sutherlands and MacKays and MacLeods working together rather than strangling each other over centuries-long feuds? All the men in the Corps must truly be dedicated to the Bruce’s cause.”

“Aye, they are—me included,” Kirk said, sobering.

A year ago, Kirk had confessed to Logan that he’d lost his faith in the cause for Scottish independence. In the time since Logan had seen him last fall, Kirk had clearly regained that faith.

“But are ye here for the cause?”

Logan turned at the soft question to find Kirk’s pale, sharp eyes searching him as they continued to walk.

“Last we spoke, ye said ye didnae wish to fight another man’s battles any longer, that ye didnae wish to bind yerself to the Bruce,” Kirk said quietly. “And yet here ye are.”

When Logan remained silent for a long moment, Kirk went on. “Dinnae mistake me. I’m glad ye’re here, and even more glad ye’ve found yer sister.” He looked over his shoulder at Mairin, who sat hunched in the saddle. “Is she…is she well?” he asked, dropping his voice.

Logan loosened the reins in his hand until the horse trailed behind him by several feet. It was the most distance he was willing to put between himself and Mairin, yet he spoke in little more than a whisper to ensure that she wouldn’t hear him.

“I…I dinnae ken.” The words made angry bile swirl in the pit of his stomach—not directed at Mairin, but at what she had been through. “Mairin doesnae like to be touched, and she hardly speaks.”

“How did ye find her? Last I saw ye, ye were preparing to tear apart all of England to uncover where Roland was holding her.”

“And I nearly did. I searched for six months before I found the safe house where Roland had stashed her. When her guards’ coin supply from Roland dried up, they left her there—locked in a root cellar.”

Involuntarily, Logan’s hand clenched around the leather reins. He would never forget the moment he’d finally laid eyes on his baby sister eleven years since the last time he’d seen her. She’d been filthy, rail-thin, and ghostly white lying curled on the dirt floor of the root cellar. She’d been so weak and afraid that she hadn’t had the strength to weep when Logan lifted her out of that underground hell and into the light of day for the first time in God knew how long.

Logan gritted his teeth against the memories. “I…I tried to make a home for us—a life—in England, but Mairin hated the country and everyone in it. I cannae blame her. And she…she fears being taken again, though I have told her time and again that Roland is dead and his men will never come for her.”

He glanced back at Mairin, whose wide gray eyes were glassy in the dim light. “I am no’ here for myself,” Logan said softly, turning once more to Kirk. “Aye, I am done with the life of a mercenary, a wanderer, but no’ because I have some noble aspiration to join the King’s Bodyguard Corps. I’m here for her. In truth,” he went on, pushing down the sudden thickness in his throat, “this was the only place I could think of where she would be safe—surrounded by warriors bound by a code of honor to protect the innocent.”

Kirk fell silent as they continued to walk through the night-dark woods. At long last, he spoke.

“Mairin will be safe here,” Kirk said quietly. “Ye and I will see to that. And no’ that ye needed to, but ye’ve proved me right. Ye are a good man. I’m honored to call ye friend. Now we just have to convince Ansel and the others of that.”

As Kirk spoke, a clearing opened in the shadowed woods ahead. Moonlight filled a grassy field that must be used for practice. Dark smudges that Logan realized were a handful of huts sat tucked between the trees beyond the field.

“Welcome to the Bodyguard Corps’ training camp,” Kirk said.

Logan looked around the little clearing and the huts scattered among the trees. All was quiet except for the muted rustle of the summer breeze through the boughs overhead.

Behind him, he heard Mairin draw in a deep breath and then let it go in a soft sigh.

Aye, Logan could do this. He could become one of the Bodyguard Corps if it meant giving his sister the peace and security she so desperately needed. It would never right the wrongs of his past, but at least it was a start.