EARLY THE NEXT morning Evander left Rachel sleeping and saddled the roan, riding to the river to plunge into the icy water. Bonding with the streaming, bubbling currents, he rode them to a small loch on the western edge of the highlands. Once he guided his mount onto the shore, he followed it to an impassible cliff, and there tethered the horse to a nearby tree.

The surface of the loch reflected the pale, cloudless sky and framed it with diamonds of silvery sunlight. Evander suspected these warm, gossamer days of the fall would end before the next full moon. Even now his breath whitened the chilly air, and night frosts had stripped all but the evergreens of their leaves. He could almost feel the sun growing more distant, and the creatures of the forests and mountains preparing their winter nests and burrows. So he would also have to do with his heart.

The decision had been easier than he’d imagined.

Last night he had held his lover and watched her sleep, and imagined how the years would pass for them. As a wanted traitor he would always have to remain in hiding. Rachel would not have children with him, but neither would she have family or friends. He would be her world, and perhaps that would be enough for her, but if he were captured and killed, she would have no one.

He wanted to give her more, to give everything, but he had nothing left. She needed the life David had stolen from her. Keeping her with him, Evander knew, was almost as bad.

But he had to be careful not to alarm her. Rachel might not wake before he returned to the cottage, but if she did he would tell her that he had been exercising the roan. After their morning meal he would present her with the saddle he’d made for her, and ride down to the village. On his last trip for supplies he learned there would be a fair today to celebrate the harvest, and he knew she would enjoy that. Their outing would be a happy one, and when they returned to the cottage he would make love to her for the rest of the night.

Their last day together should be joyous.

Feeling unseen, watching eyes, Evander removed his spear and daggers, placing them on the ground in plain view before he approached the brush at the edge of the cliff. If he had still been a clansman he would have strode through the illusion, but he’d lost that privilege when he’d betrayed the McDonnels. He stood beside the nearest stone with his arms slightly out, showing his empty hands.

Nearly an hour passed before a young lass in a short woolen robe emerged from the cliff. Her round face filled with innocent curiosity, but her ancient eyes remained wary. She inspected him openly.

“What do you want, Renegade?”

“I come to parlay for Rachel Ingram, who is druid kind.”

Moving slowly, he took out the snip of hair he had stolen from Rachel while she slept, and placed it on the standing stone before backing away from it.

The druidess watched him as she retrieved the lock, and disappeared back into the cliff.

He knew approaching any druid settlement would be dangerous, but for his lady he’d had to risk it. As much as he wanted to keep Rachel with him, he knew she needed more than a hard life with a ruined traitor. In her time she had wealth and position, and if she chose to return to it, the druids could help her seek justice for what David Carver had done. If she remained unwilling to leave Scotland, then she should be with the clan who could properly protect her. He imagined Rachel and Kinley would become fast friends.

That prospect should have angered him. He had never cared for the laird’s woman. But now he saw the man he had been as mostly blind. Rachel had helped him to see so many things in a better light.

The clan would help her settle into a new life. Evander didn’t want to think of her with another man, but that, too, would likely come to pass. He wanted her to be happy, and to live a full, rich life. She could find a mortal husband who could give her children. She would make a wonderful mother.

The young druidess appeared again, this time accompanied by two hooded ovates holding sharp-looking scythes. She held out the lock of hair.

“Where is she?”

Evander kept his expression impassive. “Safe.”

“In your company? I think no’.” She caressed the lock. “You wish to trade Rachel, like a cow?”

He eyed the men, who seemed to be poised to attack him. While he didn’t feel greatly threatened—druids knew as much about battle as Evander did about casting spells—one of them might make a fortunate blow and cut off his head. Rachel had learned much, but she could not survive the winter alone. She might also take it into her head to go looking for him.

“I want naught,” he told her. “’Tis for the lady’s sake I come to parlay. Rachel cannae remain with me. I’m–”

“We ken what you are,” the druidess said. “Do you ken what she is?” When he said nothing she made an impatient gesture. “Go and bring her to us.”

He shook his head. “Send for Ovate Cailean Lusk. I will return tomorrow with Rachel. You will see to it that he takes her to Dun Aran at once.”

“Shall we now,” the lass said, glowering. “Mayhap you mistake us. We druids dinnae take orders from turncoats.”

“Then I cannae give her to you. Forgive my intrusion.”

As he kept an eye on the ovates, he carefully restored his weapons to their rightful places. He nodded to the lass, turned on his heel, and headed for his mount.

“Wait.” When he swung around, the druidess said, “Why did you take the reader from the grove?”

That she knew how they had met, and the word she’d called Rachel made his ire rise, and his skinwork wake. He’d suspected his lover had some sort of seer ability, and now wondered just what she could read.

“An undead patrol caught scent of her blood. To leave her would have been to kill her.” Evander gave her a thin smile. “Or worse.”

“Odd. You are said to have little affection for females, and yet you rescue this one, of whom you ken naught.” When he didn’t respond to that, she said, “Mayhap you would have us believe you hold with your clan to protect druid kind. This would be the clan you betrayed.”

He shrugged. “Believe what you wish. I mean only to see Rachel secure and away.”

“But what of yourself?” the druidess persisted. “How do you ken that we willnae summon the McDonnels to wait on your return?”

Evander’s temper finally boiled over. He marched up to the lass, ignoring the scythes brandished by her escorts.

“You desire my blood spilled upon your shores? Summon them. I deserve death for what I’ve done. Only be sure to remove the lady before I am ended. She has suffered enough horrors in her time and ours.”

The lass made a rude sound. “Such a tender heart, for such a bad man.”

“You would punish her far more than me,” he countered. “What does that make you?”

“Interested.” She exchanged a meaningful look with the two men, who lowered their weapons. “Very well, Renegade. We shall summon Ovate Lusk to attend you and the lady on the morrow. No other shall be invited, and no blood shall be spilt. You’ve my word on it. Now I’ll have yours.”

“I promise the same,” Evander said and felt torn between tremendous relief and crushing despair as he bowed. “My thanks, Mistress.”

“I want naught from you,” the lass said and smiled sweetly. “Only ken that if you break your word to me, I’ll stuff those spears up your arse.”