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“Will be fine.”

Spencer nodded. Still, Fiona hesitated.

“We’ll stay close to the shoreline, so ye can keep the lad within yer sights at all times,” Gavin offered.

Fiona nodded, satisfied with the compromise. Yet she took her time making certain that Spencer had everything he required within easy reach before moving.

They made a slow circuit on the shoreline of the lake, the dog running happily ahead. Every now and again Gavin would pick up a stick and toss it into the underbrush for the beast to eagerly chase.

“Well, he seems to understand one part of the game,” Fiona remarked, when the dog returned with the stick, yet refused to yield it.

“Are ye enjoying yerself?” Gavin asked, as he picked up another stick and hurled it over the treetops.

“Yes. Thank you.” The thought flew in her head and the words swiftly followed, before she had time to think. “Why did you arrange this outing today? Why are you being so kind?”

“Ye don’t know?”

She shook her head.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want to please ye, to make ye happy.” He reached up and drew his palm gently across her cheek. “I’m trying to woo ye, lass.”

He’s jesting.Yet the deep timbre of his voice called to her. To the lonely, forgotten place in her heart. But it wasn’t only her heart. Her body had a weakness for Gavin, and a part of her worried what would happen if she didn’t try harder to quell it—or at least control it.

Despite her best efforts, Fiona felt herself being pulled in by the curious emotions she saw reflected in his eyes. Desire, excitement, but most astonishing of all—possibility.

The possibility of finding someone to care for her. To protect her. To love her. Such foolish, dangerous thoughts.

Gavin reached down and grasped her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. His touch sent tiny sparks through her. The sensible part of Fiona’s brain urged her to lower her gaze and conceal her true feelings, but there was simply too much delight coursing through her to comply. What did it matter if he knew the truth? She found him attractive, exciting, desirable. Was it so wrong to let him know?

His wicked grin let her know he was aware of the effect he was having on her. Well, two could play at that game. With an innocent smile, Fiona ran her palms down the hard contours of his arms. The tight muscles flexed beneath her sensual touch.

She leaned closer, until their chests were touching, then raised her chin and slowly outlined his lips with the tip of her tongue. He trembled against her. The power of their passion awed her, almost frightening in its intensity.

“Spencer?” she asked breathlessly.

“Is safe. He’s in my direct sights. Damn, he’s just caught a fish!”

Fiona sighed heavily. “Well, if you can see him, then he can see us.”

Gavin groaned. Fiona stepped back. It seemed as though every muscle in his body flexed with restraint, yet he impressively remained in control.

“Until tonight,” he said gruffly.

Fiona nodded, the sensual promise in his eyes making her shiver.

Perched behind a boulder on the ridge above, Ewan watched the scene below with restless interest. There were easily a dozen things he could name that were far more enjoyable than sitting on a rock for hours with a line thrown into the loch, waiting for some hapless fish to bite. Merely observing the earl and his companions had at times bored Ewan senseless.

Thankfully, there were a few distractions. The lad successfully conquering the fallen log had brought a shout of joy and a smile so wide from the woman he could see it from this great distance. She was a bonnie thing and Ewan had recognized her and the lad without difficulty. It was not a common sight to have an English lady on McLendon land, and he wondered if any of the soldiers that had accompanied her were still at the castle.

The sudden appearance of a mangy dog had also caused a commotion. Ewan had taken note of how quickly the earl reached for his sword when the beast charged from the brush, how swiftly he was ready to attack and defend. Even without a contingent of guards around him, the earl would not be easily caught unawares.

He had spoken the truth to his mother when he said he would not kill the earl. But he also meant it when he declared he would cause him a considerable amount of trouble.

All men were mortal. All men had weaknesses. What was the earl’s? Could this English woman be the key?

Ewan had heard tell of besotted men. Perfectly normal lads who lost control of their thoughts—and sometimes their tongues—at the sight of a bonnie woman. He would never have believed the earl to be one of those men, but observing the scene below had raised the possibility.

Then again, he knew very little about his half brother. They had never spoken, had never met face-to-face. All he really knew about the earl were the tales he had heard: of command and harshness, of strength and dominance, of courage and character.