The air was thick with tension for a long moment, but at last the newcomer acknowledged Logan’s words with the slightest tilt of his head.

“Aye, I am Finn Sutherland—the husband of the woman ye abducted two and a half years past.”

Logan could sense the confusion and fear radiating from Helena where she stood behind him. Without breaking his stare with Finn, he reached back and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve done a lot of things I am no’ proud of,” Logan murmured. “Including kidnapping Rosamond Beaumore and taking ye down in the process.”

“It’s Rosamond Sutherland now,” Finn said icily.

“Aye,” Logan replied. “Niall Beaumore hasnae let me forget that—nor has he let me forget the danger I dragged ye and Rosamond into.” He nodded toward the young man standing cross-armed behind Finn. “But I am no’ with the Order anymore.”

“So I hear. Ye fancy yerself on Scotland’s side now, despite working for those English bounty hunter scum against the cause all these years.”

“Aye,” Logan said plainly. Now was not the time to try to explain to the enraged Sutherland before him that he still didn’t think of himself as a member of the Corps, despite the blood and sweat he’d put into training these past months.

“He took out the Order by my side,” Kirk said, yet again coming to Logan’s defense. “They had his sister.”

Finn stared at him through narrowed eyes for a long moment, as if he could test the veracity of Kirk’s words with just his gaze. The moment was broken when Finn’s dark eyes flicked over Logan’s shoulder.

Logan turned to find Mairin striding toward him, Lillian hurrying after her.

“Dinnae dare lay another finger on my brother,” Mairin said, glaring at Finn.

Logan’s mouth fell open at Mairin’s sudden boldness. It was as if the threat to her family had woken a fierce warrior inside her.

Finn cocked a dark eyebrow. “Yer womenfolk are quick to defend ye, Mackenzie,” he said. “Do ye always hide behind their skirts?”

“Enough,” Ansel snapped. “Finn, whether ye like it or no’, I have allowed Logan into the camp.” Ansel turned his sharp eyes on Logan. “I trust him.”

If Mairin’s protectiveness had surprised him, Ansel’s words practically knocked Logan on his arse. Before he could recover, Finn crossed his arms over his chest and spoke.

“Do what ye like,” he said sourly. “I am no’ here because of the Mackenzie. I come bearing news from the Bruce.”

It was as if all the air in the clearing had suddenly been sucked away. Everyone froze, and only the lightly falling snow broke the stillness.

Kirk spoke first. “Lillian,” he said softly. He flicked his gaze to Mairin, then lifted his chin toward their cottage in a silent request.

Lillian nodded. “Will you join me, Mairin?” she asked. “I want to get out of this snow, and I wouldn’t mind practicing some of the strategies we discussed earlier.”

Reluctantly, Mairin nodded, casting a backward glance at Logan and Helena as she followed Lillian out of the clearing.

Finn shifted a hard gaze on Helena. Instinctively, Logan angled himself in front of her.

“She stays with me,” he said.

“Aye, but no one said that ye were staying,” Finn shot back.

“Cease, both of ye,” Ansel said. “Finn, out with it. What is yer news?”

“There is much to say,” Finn replied, sobering. “Mayhap we’d best get inside somewhere.”

“I dinnae think we have enough ‘inside’ for all of us,” Angus piped up. “The huts are too wee for a gathering.”

Finn cast his gaze around the clearing. “Then we might as well build a fire out here,” he said, “for this will take a while.”

 

*   *   *   *

 

Logan kept Helena close by his side as he and the others put away the supplies he’d brought from the village and carried wood for a fire, though there wasn’t time to answer the questions that lurked in her eyes.

By the time they’d built an enormous bonfire on the edge of the training field, the air nigh crackled with tension.

“Ye’ve got us on pins and needles, man,” Ansel said to Finn when they were all huddled before the fire under the shelter of the overhanging pine boughs. “What news do ye bring?”

“Edward Bruce is dead,” Finn said bluntly.

Several of the men sucked in a breath.

Logan’s gaze instantly shot to Kirk, who had served directly under Edward Bruce, Robert the Bruce’s brother, in the campaign to claim Ireland in the fight against the English.

Kirk’s ice-blue eyes flickered with shock before his face settled into its normal grim lines. “What happened?” he asked, his voice low and even.

Finn turned his gaze on Kirk. “Conditions in Ireland grew worse after ye returned to Scotland two years past. Between the famines and the growing discontent among the Irish, Edward Bruce lost control of several regions he’d already claimed. Nearly a month ago, he drew his men into the Battle of Faughart. The Scots were outnumbered. Edward should have waited for more troops, but apparently he was impatient for a victory after so many hardships.”

Finn’s mouth flattened into a hard line. “He, along with most of the Scots he sent into the battle, died that day.”

Angus drew the sign of the cross over himself. Ansel and several of the other men murmured a prayer for their fallen countrymen, and for the King’s brother. Logan did the same, for though he knew neither the Bruce nor his brother personally, he’d seen enough battles to understand how brutal a way to go it was.

“There is more,” Finn said. “The Bruce got word of his brother’s death a little over a fortnight ago. He has decided to scale back his efforts in Ireland. England’s hold there is too strong to pry loose, at least for the time being.”

Finn glanced at Helena, who leaned close to Logan’s side, the light from the flames dancing in her wide eyes. After a moment, he went on.

“It is a deep blow for the Bruce,” he said quietly. “He has lost his brother and the Irish campaign in one fell swoop. When he called me up from the Borderlands to his headquarters, he was…distraught.”

“If I ken Robert the Bruce, though,” Angus said, stroking his red and gray beard, “he has likely already hatched a new plan, something else to throw himself into.”

Finn acknowledged the old warrior’s words with a nod. “Aye. The years since Bannockburn have been difficult. One of the only bright spots has been the retaking of Berwick castle—thanks to ye and Lillian, Kirk.”

Kirk tilted his head. “It was a great victory for the cause.”

“The Bruce is hungry for more like it,” Finn went on. “That is why he wishes to throw his energies behind retaking the last of the English-held Borderland castles.”

Logan felt Helena stiffen beside him. His gut pulled into a knot of dread, but before he could confirm his suspicion, Finn continued.

“The Bruce has already mobilized his army. He plans to move systematically through the Borderlands, laying siege to all the remaining English-held keeps there and reclaiming them for Scotland.”

“Why did he send ye to the Highlands when ye could have aided him from yer position in the Borderlands?” Ansel asked, frowning.

“Partly to inform Laird Robert Sinclair of the King’s new strategy. He and the other Highland Lairds need to be ready if the Bruce calls upon them for men or supplies. Some Lairds have already sent forces to the Borderlands.” Finn replied. “But more importantly, he wanted me to gather a member of the Corps to help lead the sieges.”

Ansel’s brows shot up. “Willnae the King be there himself?”

“Nay. Colin and I will be with the army in the Borderlands, but the Bruce and Garrick Sinclair will remain in Lochmaben to plan the draw-down in Ireland.”

Finn’s hard gaze swept those crowded around the bonfire. “The Bruce said it would be up to ye, Ansel, to select which man would be best for the job.”

Logan’s stomach dropped like a stone. One of the men would be sent to the Borderlands for a series of sieges that could take years. He scanned the warriors he’d trained with these past two months.

Niall was barely a man yet. Though he was tall and broad of shoulder, he still bore the leanness of youth, and his experience was far more limited than the others.

Angus, on the other hand, was as gnarled as an ancient oak tree. Though the proud old warrior would never admit it, his sieging days were behind him.

Ansel had a wife and two young children in the village to look after.

And Will Sinclair, though in his prime and not yet a family man, had his own struggles. Although he did his best to hide it, Logan had noticed that Will struggled with delicate sword maneuvers and target practice when they worked with bow and arrows.

Without the use of his right eye, his depth perception was off. It made him surly, aye, but more than that, it was a liability in a battle situation.

That left Kirk. Logan’s gaze landed on his friend. From the firm set of Kirk’s mouth and the hard ice in his eyes, he’d reached the same conclusion.

But the reason Kirk had been called from Ireland back to Scotland two years past, and the reason he’d been sent to infiltrate the Order of the Shadow, was because he’d been nearly broken in mind, spirit, and faith by a grueling, disastrous siege in Ireland. He’d almost deserted the cause after that siege. Kirk was no doubt nigh-drowning in dread behind his hard exterior.

Yet Logan’s friend’s suffering wasn’t his only worry. Fear and anxiety radiated from Helena where she stood beside him. He was almost certain his suspicions were correct—that Helena’s old home would be targeted by the Bruce—but he needed to be sure.

“Has the Bruce’s army launched its first attack?” he asked, pulling Finn’s gaze back to him.

Finn considered Logan before answering. “Aye,” he said at last. “Even before I departed for the Highlands, the Bruce received word at Lochmaben that his army had already reached a castle in the central Borderlands. The surrounding farmlands were claimed immediately—and peacefully, for they were worked by Scots who welcomed the Bruce’s soldiers. With the castle’s supplies cut off, I doubt the siege will last more than a few months.”

Helena gasped, drawing Finn’s attention. “Months?” she breathed. “But what of the people inside the castle?”

Finn’s eyes narrowed a hair’s breadth on her. No doubt he had just picked up on Helena’s English accent. His features hardened with resolve, but he shifted his gaze to the fire as he spoke.

“They will suffer,” he said quietly, “unless the castle surrenders quickly.”

Kirk let out a long breath at that and threw a stick into the fire.

Helena’s eyes shimmered with desperate tears. Still, Logan needed confirmation that her fears were founded, for not knowing could be far worse than the painful truth.

“And this castle,” Logan prodded Finn, “the first to be sieged. Do ye ken what it is called?”

Finn locked eyes with him. “Aye. I believe it is called Craigmoor.”