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“Just this morning we received a message that Joan intends to come home with her husband and baby fer the holiday,” Uncle Fergus said. “She’ll be sorely disappointed when she arrives and discovers that ye aren’t here.”

Davina shrugged, meeting her uncle’s eyes with bland innocence. Four years of marriage to the Fraser laird had not mellowed Joan’s self-serving, spoiled ways. It was always decidedly unpleasant for Davina when Joan and her family came to visit. Little did her uncle realize that avoiding her overbearing cousin was an enticement to leave, not stay.

“I can spare only a few men fer an escort,” Uncle Fergus muttered.

“By the Saints!” Aunt Isobel screeched. “The journey to McKenna Castle will take days. Davina willnae step foot outside our walls unless she has a full complement of our best warriors at her side. I’ll not have her traveling on unsafe roads with only a few men to protect her. Especially at this time of year. Food is scarce when the weather is cold. Who knows what sort of thieves and brigands lurk on the roads, eager to prey on unsuspecting travelers?”

“Exactly!” Uncle Fergus scowled. “Another reason why ’tis a daft idea. I forbid ye to go, Davina. Ye shall stay here with yer family, where ye will be safe and protected.”

Uncle Fergus and Aunt Isobel turned expectantly toward her. Davina swallowed hard, knowing they were waiting for her to agree. “Lady Aileen is sending an escort.”

“What?” Aunt Isobel’s jaw lowered.

“How many men?” Uncle Fergus asked.

“Never mind the men,” Aunt Isobel interjected. “Is she also sending a maid? We have none to spare and ye cannae be left alone in the company of a group of McKenna soldiers fer so many days andnights.”

Unable to answer, Davina lifted her hands in a helpless gesture and shrugged. Her aunt clucked her tongue in disapproval. Her uncle snorted in derision and the two began listing myriad hazards that she could encounter, one more distressing than the next.

The more they talked, the faster Davina’s panic started to rise. Biting her lip, she looked from one dismayed face to another.Are they right? Am I mad to consider such a journey?

The idea of going to McKenna Castle had been so bold, so freeing, but now it was feeling like a bad, impulsive decision.

Agitated, Davina started pacing in front of the fireplace. The fears inside her began to emerge, starting first as a small trembling, then progressing to a shortness of breath.

Engulfed in the shame of her failure to conquer these fears, Davina opened her mouth, ready to acquiesce to their demands that she abandon the notion of visiting Lady Aileen. But before she could speak, a lad ran into the great hall, his voice heavy with excitement.

“Riders approach! Angus sent me to tell ye he spied them from the battlements.”

“Can ye see their colors?” Uncle Fergus asked anxiously.

“Aye. ’Tis the McKenna banner they carry.”

“What the devil?” Uncle Fergus scratched the stubble on his chin. “How could they have gotten here so quickly?”

All eyes turned toward Davina. She felt her heart slam against her ribs, but somehow managed a weak smile. Apparently, there would be no time to reconsider the rashness of her actions in accepting Lady Aileen’s invitation.

Her McKenna escort had just arrived.

As his horse thundered through the open gates of Armstrong Castle, all Sir Malcolm McKenna could think of was his sore arse. He had pushed himself, and his men, hard on this journey, riding long hours both day and into the night and his muscles were finally rebelling against the abuse.

The cold, damp weather hadn’t helped much either. It seeped into the bones and pulled at the muscles, bathing them in stiffness. Yet his personal discomfort had no effect on his decision to make this journey in as short a time as possible.

This ridiculous journey,he amended in his head.

Determined to ignore the soreness, Malcolm gave no hint of his pain as he dismounted from his panting, sweating horse. Tossing the reins to a waiting servant, he stood in the nearly deserted bailey, hands on his hips, stretching out the cramps in his legs.

With a wry grin he noticed that several of his warriors were also moving a bit slower than usual, yet none dared to complain. Tonight they would sleep indoors, near a warm hearth, after filling their bellies with good food and drink.

Malcolm’s eyes turned expectantly toward the heavy, oak door of the great hall, waiting for the laird and his lady to appear and bid him welcome. Yet the door remained tightly shut. Puzzled, Malcolm looked to the lad who held his horse, but the youngster refused to meet his gaze and instead stared at the ground.

Ballocks!

Malcolm had succumbed to his mother’s pleas to ride out to this godforsaken keep and escort Lady Davina Armstrong to McKenna Castle because he could no longer bear to see the painful flashes of loss that lingered in her eyes. His father had agreed it was an ill-advised journey, but Lady Aileen was convinced that Davina Armstrong could shed light on his brother James’s behavior.

Malcolm and his father were not as certain. James had left Scotland to fight for a noble cause. It was that simple. Yet his mother refused to believe her son would leave without first telling his family and then bidding them a proper farewell. And she was certain that Davina Armstrong was the key to unlocking that mystery.

They had learned of James’s whereabouts from a traveling priest, the hastily scrawled letter he was entrusted to deliver arriving months after James had departed from Scotland’s shore. Since then, there had been little news. There had been no word of Christian victories against the infidel.