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Ignoring the shouted curses and pounding behind him, Raeb pressed his fingers against his eyes as he tried to slow his racing heartbeat and the throbbing in his loins.

Heaven help him! The reports of Jessamyn Du Grace’s beauty had been wrong. If anything, the praise was totally inadequate. Nothing he had heard described her height or the towering passion contained within her willowy form.

He was in serious trouble. While conversing with Dougal, captain of his guard, about the plan to deceive Edward I, Raeb had seen her fall to the ground but had not been fooled by her abrupt change from lady in charge to weakling in need of support. He had gone to confront her with her deception, but the moment he had gazed on her face the compulsion to touch her overset all logic.

Impulsively, he had clutched her to his chest like a child with a treasured gift, afraid that someone might steal it away. Her softness had registered first, then her lavender, mint, and woman scent assaulted him. His body had hardened in an instant. He had prayed she would speak, so he could discover if her voice was as fair as her face or if it would squawk and screech. If she were a Scot, she would be a perfect mate. That was the thought that had caused him to think with his brains and lock her away. Now, he needed two moments to gain control of himself before rejoining his folk below. His body might lust after Jessamyn Du Grace, but neither he nor his clan could afford to have his slat guide his actions.

He was still ensnared in fantasies of golden hair, green eyes—no blue, the reports had got that wrong too—and a tall, slender form, when running footsteps approached. Dougal came into view and skittered to a halt in front of Raeb.

’Twas beyond rude to treat her like a prisoner, but he must make certain the household understood the consequences of defying his orders to shun her. Once assured of their cooperation, he’d release her.

“Baron, blood’s about to be shed in the bailey.”

He lurched into motion and pressed his lips together against the urge to curse. He’d missed his supper while dealing with his betrothed, and he was hungry—hungry for a lot more than food. The last thing he wanted to do was intervene between quarrelsome warriors. “St. Finan’s ghost, who is it this time? Linden and MacEth? I swear if they’ll no settle their differences, I’ll bash both their heads.”

Dougal spun on his heel and raced down the stairs beside his baron. “Nae, those two are still at odds, but tonight ’tis five of your men about to damage Rhuad MacFearann.”

“I may wish MacFearann to the devil, but he’s done naught to offend here and will be given the hospitality any stranger deserves until he proves he shares his father’s reputation.”

Raeb’s brows clashed, and guilt rumbled like unspent wind in his gut. He’d given no hospitality to Jessamyn Du Grace, and she was the next best thing to a stranger. Aye, but she was English. God reserved a special place in hell for the English, who were thereby undeserving of the least courtesy. Yet he’d not been cruel. He’d rescued her and that screeching busybody of a maid from the rain. He’d placed Lady Jessamyn in the best chamber, thus forcing himself to sleep in the barracks with the guards. Despite great provocation, he’d not hurt her, and would be sending her back to her father untouched. That was more than hospitable enough for someone already cursed.

“The trouble blew up quickly when one of our men took exception to how MacFearann looked at your sister.”

Dread swarmed into his mind. “Which one?”

“Neilina.”

Pity he and his visitor had both been so occupied that their private conversations had not taken place. With more information, Raeb might have been able to prevent this kind of trouble.

Raeb and Dougal came to a halt in the bailey. Before them five MacKai clansmen, swords and knives drawn, surrounded Rhuad MacFearann.

“C’mon, cowards. You outnumber me and no one of you has the claches to strike the first blow,”

Rhuad snarled.

Ugly murmurs spread through the crowd of onlookers.

With a growl the largest MacKai lunged and swung for MacFearann’s neck.

Rhuad sidestepped neatly.

The big MacKai’s momentum carried him forward. He scrabbled to maintain his balance. But MacFearann’s foot on his opponent’s backside sent the fellow to the ground, skidding across the cobbles. The watchers scattered to avoid being bowled over like ten pins. The clansman only stopped moving when his head smacked into the courtyard wall.

While Rhuad was disposing of his first attacker, two others leapt on him from behind.

A roar of outrage went up from the crowd at the cowardly attack.

MacFearann went down under the weight of the two men and a melee of fists and blades ensued.

“Stop,”

Raeb roared.

Between the shouts of the crowd and the grunting insults hurled by the fighting men, no one heard the order.

“Dougal, take two men and get buckets of water. We’ll have these dogs separated in a trice.”

Dougal sped away.

Rhuad struggled to his feet. One hand on the neck of each opponent, he knocked their heads together.

The last two MacKais circled close, taking jabs at MacFearann but never coming near enough to get in a killing blow nor for him to strike solidly at them. Blood ran from numerous gashes all over the man’s body. His balance was unsteady, but still he growled, daring his attackers to make an end.

The man facing MacFearann raised his blade to slash. The one behind pulled back to stab.

“Naaae,”

keened over the noise of the fight and the crowd. A pathway formed, severing the circle of onlookers. A screaming fury hurtled into the cleared area and stopped directly between the fighters.

“Neilina, nae!”

But Raeb’s shout came too late.

She plastered her body to MacFearann’s, shielding him in the only way an unarmed woman could.

The slashing blade sliced the side of her bliaut as MacFearann swiveled to move her out of striking range. A red line welled where the cloth gapped.

Rhuad’s movement caused the second stabbing blade to miss its mark. Still, the point scored his thigh.

Water flung from the buckets Raeb had ordered, drenched everyone in the fighting field.

The crowd leapt back. Dougal ordered the MacKai men away from MacFearann.

Raeb pushed his way through, but by the time he reached the center, Rhuad held a fainting Neilina against him with one arm and threatened all comers with the blade in his opposite hand. Battle light still hazed the man’s eyes.

“She needs aid, Rhuad, as do you.”

Raeb kept his voice level. The last thing he wished was to set off a blood-fueled rage.

Blinking rapidly, MacFearann fixed a stare on Raeb. “You’d have me trust you when you set your men to attack a guest? ’Tis nae the type of hospitality offered elsewhere in the Highlands, even to a MacFearann.”

Blood covered the man’s leg, and he staggered. His blade never wavered, and his hold on Neilina tightened.

“You should know better than to think I issued such an order. Now give over my sister and lower your sword, else I’ll have no choice but to kill you myself.”

Raeb let his hand hover above the hilt of his sheathed sword, so MacFearann would know the truth of the threat.

Rhuad bared his teeth. “What assurance have I that you’ll no kill me once I release her?”

As if answering his call, Neilina stirred in his grasp and came alert. “Set me down, you godless dolt.”

MacFearann smiled. “’Tis glad I am you’ve recovered, beag duais mo.”

The crowd laughed, for Raeb’s sister was far from little.

She clouted Rhuad on his ear and regained her feet. Arms akimbo, she stuck out her chin and snarled. “I am no a small prize for any man. Even were I such, I’d nae be yours.”

“Mo cridhe, have pity,”

MacFearann pleaded. He turned his sword hilt toward Raeb. “You may be anything you wish if you will just please tell your brother he’s no reason to kill me, for ’tis an honest woman I’d make of you.”

“What?”

Raeb roared.

Neilina whirled. Eyes wide, she placed herself once more between Rhuad and any threat. “He lies.”

Raeb glared death at the man grinning behind her. Why would a man lie so he would be forced to wed a woman almost as poor as he?

“Dinna listen to him, brother. I’ve done naught to shame myself or MacKai. You and all here know I speak true.”

“Get out of the way, Neilina.”

Never looking away from MacFearann, Raeb grasped the offered hilt.

“Nae.”

She pulled herself to her full height and stamped her foot.

“Dougal, get her out of here,”

ordered Raeb.

From the corner of his eye, Raeb saw Dougal move toward Neilina.

She backed toward MacFearann.

The man reached for her, but his outstretched hand dropped, and he crumpled to the ground.

Neilina turned at the clatter of Rhuad’s collapse. “Nae.”

Dougal rushed in and grabbed her.

At the same moment, Raeb raised the sword and strode to stand above MacFearann.

The crowd hadn’t moved.

“Get out, all of you!”

shouted Raeb. “Go about your business and let your baron sort out this mess. Those who broke Clan MacKai’s hospitality will answer to me in the great hall after I have seen to our guest’s wounds and comfort. Is that understood?”

“Aye, Baron,”

grumbled the five MacKai warriors.

With nothing left to see, the onlookers stirred and shuffled away, leaving Raeb, Dougal, and a slowly subsiding Neilina alone with the unconscious MacFearann.

“Please, Raeb, he’s defenseless. Dinna hurt him more.”

Raeb shook his head. He was disinclined to reassure his sister, simply because she’d been so foolish as to get between drawn swords. “Dougal, take her to her chamber and keep her there until I come for her. On your way, find two men. Send one for Maeve and the other here to help me with MacFearann.”

At their next oldest sister’s name, Neilina ceased struggling.

“Aye.”

Dougal nodded acknowledgement. “This way, Lady Neilina.”

“Hmph.”

She gathered the side of her bliaut together, stuck her nose in the air, and set off.

Despite her posturing, Raeb noticed the tiny upturn of her lips and knew she felt reassured that MacFearann would not die this night.

***

High above the courtyard, Jessamyn finished changing her clothes and stared in astonishment out the narrow window of her prison chamber.

Too far away to hear any words that might explain the action below, she could only wonder.

What kind of man locked his future wife away without explanation? What kind of place was this where the hosts attacked a guest? She’d seen the attacked man on board the ship from time to time.

Since his clothing differed from the MacKais’, he was likely not of their clan.

What kind of baron was Raeb MacKai to allow such an attack in the first place? Granted he’d taken some action, but too little too late as she saw it.

Then, when the MacKai woman was injured defending the victim, the baron had acted with surprising restraint.

Now the baron, alone in the bailey, knelt by the fallen man’s side and to every appearance was tending the man’s wounds.

So engrossed she was by the events unfolding below that she jerked back from the window at the sound of a soft voice.

“Come quickly, my sister has need of you.”

Jessamyn turned, wide-eyed, to see a slim girl standing in the now open doorway. She was petite, and thus judging her age was difficult. Jessamyn might have thought her ten or twelve. However, the girl’s carriage and expression suggested she might be older.

“I beg your pardon. Who are you, who has need of me, and why?”

Jessamyn asked.

“My name is Artis. Neilina needs you. She’s my sister, the one injured in the courtyard. Maeve would see to Neilina, but the one with the greatest wound must be treated first, and that is MacFearann. Please hurry, Neilina is in pain.”

The girl spoke in a rush and even now turned to lead the way.

“Wait a moment.”

Artis turned back, her foot tapping impatiently. “Neilina needs help urgently.”

“I’ve no herbs or medicines. Does your keep not have a healer?”

“Our sister Maeve is the only healer. Please, you must hurry.”

Despite the girl’s pleading, Jessamyn was unconvinced of the need for haste. Neilina, whoever she was, had walked from the bailey on her own two feet and showed no signs of serious injury.

“If you want to get out of here before Raeb decides he needs to check on you, you’ll come with me now and help Neilina.”

Artis’s gaze had turned sly.

The girl had discovered the right lure, but Jessamyn maintained her dignity. “Yes, I would like to leave this room. However, if I am to help your sister, I’ll need medicaments, bandages, and some food—for I am beyond hungry.”

Artis smiled. “I vow you’ll have all you need as soon as you get to Neilina’s chamber.”

They climbed a spiraling stair to the third level and sped down a hall with one door on each side and one at the end.

Artis opened the portal at the end of the hall and revealed a spacious chamber with two beds. Jessamyn followed her inside. Neilina sat on a stool near a braiser, naked to the waist and dabbing gingerly at her injured side. Three other women surrounded her, all chattering at once.

“Out!”

Artis ordered. “I’ve brought our future sister-in-law. She’ll help Neilina, but to give them quiet we must all leave.”

The women fell silent, staring at Artis. One by one they nodded, stood and left without uttering a word. Artis followed.

When the door closed behind them all Jessamyn approached Neilina. Blood still oozed down the woman’s side. The cloth she used to wash with and the water in the bowl beside her were both red.

“Here, let me get clean water and more cloths.”

“On the table beneath the window.”

Neilina lifted a hand, pointed, then dropped back to lean against the wall. “My thanks to you and Artis for getting them to leave. I love my sisters, but I dared no show weakness for fear I’d frighten them all. All save Artis. Naught ever frightens her.”

Returning, Jessamyn pulled up another stool and sat. “I gather you are the oldest and always put on a good face for them.”

“Our oldest sister married recently and no longer lives here. I’m next in line. Sorcha always knew what to do. I never know how to behave with my sisters, and more often than not I anger them instead of comfort.”

Jessamyn drenched one cloth, wrung it out, and folded it lengthwise before laying it over the entire long wound.

A knock sounded, and Artis entered before either Jessamyn or Neilina could respond.

“I brought the medicaments, bandages, and food you requested.”

She set a basket on the floor beside Jess.

“Thank you, Artis.”

“Do you need me to stay and help?”

“No,”

said Neilina. “But please tell Raeb I’m fine and expect to be about my normal tasks tomorrow.”

“I’ll get the message to him right now,”

Artis said then left.

“Your brother must love you very much,”

Jessamyn remarked.

Eyes closed and her back still resting against the stone wall, Neilina nodded.

“Yes, all of us have always been close, but since our parents’ deaths, Raeb has been both father and brother.

We try to lighten his load where possible.

He doesna make it easy, though.

He tends to guard his emotions and tries no to show anything but a calm face to the world.

And ’tis worse now that Sorcha is wed and canna mother us as she has these past ten years.”

Jessamyn wanted to ask all sorts of questions.

What were the other sisters’ names? How had their parents died? Yes, she agreed Raeb MacKai was annoyingly difficult to read, but why was their brother so boorish? A hundred other queries pushed at her, but she could see Neilina was tiring.

The most important thing was to get the woman into bed so she could rest and heal.

When that was accomplished and Neilina was slipping into a curative sleep, Jessamyn dragged her stool to the braiser that warmed the room.

She ate the stew, and drank the mead Artis had brought.

Jessamyn had not imagined getting drawn into this family.

Her plan—vague as it was—had always been to maintain a chilly if polite distance and try to give her betrothed a strong enough distaste of her that he would reject her without good cause, thus allowing her to retain her dowry.

So far she’d been ignored, toted around like a sack, and maneuvered into nursing one of the rather astonishing MacKais.

Keeping any sort of distance from the family was unlikely at this point.

In fact, she feared the wedding might happen too quickly.

She’d been locked in the baron’s own chamber, which implied intimacies that could force her to marry.

On the other hand, the baron treated her with such callous disregard, she doubted he wished to marry at all.

Honestly, she did not know what to think.

She needed more information about the man contracted to be her husband.

She would find Margery and their baggage while considering the best course.

She did not know what to do now to get Raeb MacKai to reject her, but she would figure it out.

She would start by surprising him and hopefully keeping him off balance.

He no doubt expected her to be locked and cowering in his chamber.

She did not know how to cower.

***

In the room where Rhuad MacFearann lay having Maeve tend his thigh wound, Raeb paced the perimeter. He didna like the anxiety pushing at him, but Jessamyn Du Grace was locked in his chamber with access to all his personal belongings—including a number of weapons. He wouldna put it past her to try to kill him with his own knife. She was a devious woman. St. Finan’s ghost, by now she’d been in his room long enough to prepare a verra unpleasant greeting. Perhaps he should just leave her be until morning.

“Are you done fussing over the man yet?”

Raeb asked.

His sister calmly placed her unguents and bandages in a basket and stood. “Aye, I’m leaving a cup of mead with a sleeping draught mixed in. While you talk, make sure he drinks it all.”

“I’d rather no be losing my wits, thank you very much, Lady Maeve,”

Rhuad said.

She turned a fierce stare on him. “You’ll do as you’re told, or I’ll make certain Neilina never speaks to you again.”

Rhuad swallowed. “Yes, my lady.”

She turned her gimlet gaze back on Raeb. “And you, brother, dinna exhaust my patient with questions that can wait. He needs rest, and if you badger him into a fever, I’ll ensure your soon-to-be wife makes your life a misery.”

Maeve had no idea how miserable he already was. He looked to be so for many long weeks. He couldn’t send Jessamyn Du Grace home until Edward I’s troop ships were captured and provided the means to get rid of the cursed woman. Nor could he afford to have her leave before she rejected him without cause and must leave her dowry behind. The only blessing out of this entire day was that he’d succeeded in giving the woman a disgust of him. With luck when he went to check on her, she would demand only to be returned home and would leave his body in one piece. He anticipated agreeing to such a demand with great joy. Too bad he’d not be able to send her anywhere until midsummer.

When the door closed behind his sister, Raeb sat on the bench she’d left at the bedside and studied Rhuad MacFearann.

The man gave a toothy smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “I suppose you’d like to know what business brought me to Dungarob.”

“Aye, but I’m more interested in how you came to know Neilina and whether or no I should kill you for dishonoring her.”

He handed MacFearann the cup Maeve had left.

Rhuad took a long, slow sip. “’Tis no reason for killing, as I’ve never touched your sister, no even to hold her hand or help her across a stile.”

“Then why did you let my entire clan think otherwise?”

“To cover my real reasons for being here.”

Raeb lifted a brow. “What would those be?”

Rhuad drank again. “’Twould be best if I explained from the moment Lady Neilina and I met.”

Raeb leaned forward. “Whatever will get you to the point faster.”

“I sought shelter with some crofters on your holding while trying to figure out how best to approach you. Given my father’s reputation, I wasna certain I’d be welcome, and ’twas vital I speak with you.”

He paused to sip.

“Lady Neilina showed up at the same place two days ago. Her horse had gone lame.”

St. Finan’s ghost. “I remember my master of horse telling me of it.”

“I offered to give her a ride back to Dungarob if she would do me the wee favor of pretending she knew me as a suitor when I arrived in a day or two.”

Rhuad drained the cup and continued. “’Twould give me a chance to speak with you on the excuse of asking for her hand. I told her who I was and why my name forced me to a ruse to get your attention. I even confided that I had news of vital import, though I didna share what that was.”

“I’ll inform the clan I’ve rejected your suit. Now, why did you choose to no confide in Neilina?”

“I dinna believe you wish your sisters to know yet of the plan to capture Edward Plantagenet’s ships and men.”

Raeb lifted both brows. “I’ll have to tell them at some point when their gossip can do no damage. How did you learn of the plot?”

“I agreed to carry messages for Lord MacBirnum if he would tell me where I could find my brother.”

Rhuad’s eyes blinked rapidly. “Your sister’s potion is working quickly.”

“I’m surprised he trusted you when Ranulf betrayed Scotland.”

“I knew my half brother would no give details, out of his misplaced sense of honor. His mother and sister had been lured to visit friends who betrayed them to the bishop. The cleric held them for ransom. His excuse was pious revenge for our father’s attack on the priory, which hadna paid its rents and was abusing our peasants. Clan MacFearann is small and has little left after paying the death debt demanded by Rome. I couldna understand the purpose for demanding ransom until I learned, after the fact, that the demand was used to coerce Ranulf into betraying Scotland.”

“That explains a great deal. Did MacBirnum tell you Ranulf has been banished to Bana-bhuidse?

“Aye.”

MacFearann’s head drooped, but he jerked it upward. “MacBirnum agreed I could arrange delivery of the messages so that Dungarob’s is the last. I hope to find a ship or fisherman willing to take me to the isle.”

“If you dinna find passage before we take the English troop ships, then after the fight, I will make certain you are taken to your brother at the first opportunity. The ships are Dungarob’s prize. The other clans will have Englishmen to ransom as their portion.”

A gentle snore answered this pronouncement.

“Curse it, man, you didna deliver your message.”

Even a push on his shoulder could not rouse the man. What to do? Raeb decided to search the man’s belongings. MacFearann traveled light, and the search did not take long. As expected, Raeb found no written messages. He looked to the bed where the snores had grown louder. He’d not get anything tonight. However, on the morrow, he’d be at MacFearann’s side first thing.

With nothing more to distract him, he needed to turn his attention to the problem of Jessamyn Du Grace. But first he’d get his supper. ’Twould do no good if hunger laid him low when he dealt with his betrothed.