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Puzzled, not to mention concerned, Jamison spurred his horse forward, down the rocky green slope, the one that faced the ocean and the glorious morning sunrise.

The days of summer were still fairly warm as the season moved into fall and the harsh winter that would soon come, so the ground was stable and not too wet as his horse slid down the incline.

He was nearly to the bottom, preparing to urge his horse forward at a gallop, when he heard a cry.

“Eva!”

Jamison knew his brother’s voice and that wasn’t it.

Someone else was calling for that siren of a sister, a lass that lured men to their doom when they came into contact with her brother.

So Jamison could only assume that the cry was from Eva’s brother.

Sending the horse into a gallop, he closed the gap between him and the MacKenzie stronghold.

He dismounted and left his horse in a copse of trees as he raced for the big stone wall that surrounded the perimeter.

Leaping over the wall, which was no mean feat considering his height and bulk, he headed straight for the woman who’d been tossed from the window.

She was just starting to sit up when Jamison came upon her.

“Eva?” he asked, reaching down to help her up. “What has happened?”

Eva had a hand on her forehead. “I dunna know,” she said, wincing as she rubbed the bump that was forming. “Robbie and I were… where’s Robbie?”

Jamison didn’t know but from the sounds of conversation on the other side of the barn, a mumble he could hear, he suspected his brother might not be in the best of positions.

Eva was wobbly, having trouble standing, so he picked her up so she wouldn’t fall.

With the woman in his arms, he rounded the side of the sod barn and walked straight into the scene of Connell chasing Robbie over a rock wall.

“ Stop !” Jamison boomed. “Connell, stop !”

Connell came to an unsteady halt just as he was about to leap over a second rock wall. Robert kept running until a second shout from Jamison stopped him. Robert turned about but Connell was already heading in Jamison’s direction, his featured twisted with rage.

“Get yer hands off me sister!” he snarled, reaching out and grabbing Eva by the arm.

He yanked, hard, and the woman hit the ground.

He dragged her back, several feet, as she tried to get her footing, but his focus was on Jamison.

“God’s bones… so ’tis ye… ’tis The Red Lion.

I never thought it ’twould be ye, Jamison. Ye’re the smarter o’ the brothers.”

Jamison kept his customary cool as he faced off against a fairly angry man. “I will pretend I dinna hear yer slander,” he said steadily. “Yer sister has had an accident. I was riding by and saw her in the dirt. She’s injured.”

Connell turned his attention to his sister, who was struggling to stand. He still had her by the arm. “What is it wich’ ye?”

Eva had her had to her forehead where the lump was.

“I… I hit me head,” she said, still muddled from having been knocked out.

“I think Robbie must’ve hit….” She stopped herself, suddenly realizing what she had just said.

Her eyes widened and she looked up at her brother in a panic.

“I mean… I must’ve hit me head somehow!”

Connell wasn’t a fool; he’d caught her misstep from the first. He still had her by the arm and he shook her, viciously, until she cried out. “Robbie?” he snapped.

She screamed. “Nae! No’ Robbie!”

“Jamison, then!”

“Nae, Connell! Stop !”

But Connell wouldn’t stop. “Ye’ve been wit’ Robbie,” he said as his gaze found Robert, who was still at least two fences over.

Far enough away to get a good distance on him if he decided to run.

Connell’s features twisted with rage as he turned back to Jamison.

“That is why ye’re here, Munro. Tae cover for yer brother’s actions with me sister! ”

Jamison could see where this was going. God help him, he could see very quickly where the situation was headed and he did the only thing he could do– try to head off Connell the Crazed from the murderous rage that was about to come forth.

Robert might have been a rake, and a foolish one at that, but Jamison wasn’t going to condemn his brother before the likes of Connell MacKenzie. He was going to defend him.

“From what I’ve heard, Robbie’s not the only man who’s had action with yer sister,” he said.

He was going to hit and hit hard. “Take the lass back into the house and beat her within an inch o’ her life.

She lures men to their doom like a siren lures sailors.

Get her out of me sight, MacKenzie. Be grateful I’m not beating her instead of ye. ”

Connell was taken back at the blatant insult. Even Eva yelped in outrage. “Are ye goin’ tae let him speak of me like that?” she asked, looking at her brother. “What are ye goin’ tae do about it, then?”

Connell’s jaw flexed but, surprisingly, he didn’t explode.

He simply looked at Jamison with an expression that suggested he was torn; the man was, in fact, correct.

Even Connell knew his sister had no morals.

But, much as Jamison was obliged to protect Robert, he was obliged to protect Eva. The family honor was at stake.

“I’ll give ye yer choice,” Connell said to Jamison, all but ignoring his sister. “I can fight Robbie or I can fight ye. I’m goin’ tae fight one of ye, so ye can make the choice.”

It was a challenge and Jamison immediately looked at his brother.

He wouldn’t refuse such an invitation. He had a sword strapped to his side, held by a leather belt against the rough woolen tunic he wore.

Unlike most Scots, however, his tunic didn’t go to his knees.

It hung just below his buttocks because Jamison preferred to wear breeches.

He’d picked up the habit while fostering in England, far to the south, and he’d never lost the urge to cover up his legs.

He felt far more comfortable that way because he didn’t particularly like having his manhood exposed.

One good tumble and the Family Sword would be unsheathed for all to see.

Therefore, when he faced Connell with his Sassenach dress and enormous, Spanish-forged broadsword, he looked out of place.

A Highlander without the trappings of the Highlands.

Connell noticed; it wasn’t difficult to see.

The clans all knew that Jamison Munro wasn’t like the rest of them.

His father, also a rather widely traveled and educated man, had insisted his sons do the same, but the two younger sons, Robert and Hector, had resisted that wanderlust. They’d never done what the older boys, George and Jamison, had done.

George had spent time in France studying with the church while Jamison had fostered with a very fine English family.

He’d experienced warfare in four different countries, only to return to Scotland to realize he was different from his kinsmen. Not odd, just… different.

He didn’t fit in with them anymore.

Therefore, Connell was a more cautious when facing Jamison. The man knew Sassenach tactics, which made him tricky as well as dangerous. He was also as tall as a tree, as big as a stag, as powerful as a mountain, and as unpredictable as the wind. There was nothing wanting about Jamison Munro.

Truthfully, Connell was a bit disappointed that the man had stood right up to his challenge; not that he had expected any differently, but he had hoped– secretly– that Jamison would have thrust Robert at him to atone for what he’d done with, or to, Eva.

It was a brother’s duty to protect his sister’s honor, wasn’t it?

By damn, if Jamison isna right– the lass is like a siren who’s had one too many a sailor gloss over her ocean, if ye know what I mean….

The reality was that Eva had no honor. Now, she may have very well cost Connell his life because of her open legs and his sense of duty.

Damnable woman!

“This isna yer fight, Jamison,” Connell said, trying not to sound as if he was afraid of the man. “Give Robbie yer sword and let him face me like a man.”

Jamison shook his head. “Ye gave me a choice of who ye should face,” he said. “I chose me.”

Connell sighed faintly, knowing that he had, indeed, given the man such a choice. It had been a hasty offer, one he was coming to regret. “Ye canna spend yer whole life defendin’ yer brother,” he said. “When will Robbie take the burden fer what he’s done?”

Jamison unsheathed his sword. “Not today,” he said. “Are ye going tae fight me or are ye going tae stand there and yap? I dunna have all day.”

By this time, Robert had come back over the rock walls, his feet slapping against the cold, damp earth of the barnyard. “Hold, Jamie,” he said. “Ye may as well give me yer sword. Connell intends tae kill one of us and it may as well be me.”

He said it with resignation but Jamison didn’t look at him. He didn’t take his eyes off of Connell.

“Get away with ye,” he told Robert. “Go home, Robbie. Ye brought me for protection. Now I’m protecting ye.”

Robert was feeling guilty and fearful. He hadn’t truly wanted to get Jamison involved with the maniacal Connell, but here they were, preparing to square off against one another.

He didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d asked Jamison to act the lookout for him when he’d gone to meet with Eva; perhaps he had hoped that nothing would happen at all, that they’d all outrun Connell after he’d had his pleasure and before any real damage was done.

Connell was fearsome but he was slow. Knocking Eva in the head and being confronted by Connell wasn’t really what Robert had hoped for, but now, here they were.

They were in the soup now, as it were.

“Give me yer sword,” Robert said again. “I canna let ye face me folly. I can beat Connell. Do ye doubt me?”

“Aye.”

He’d said it with no hesitation and Robert looked at his brother, stricken. “Do ye have so little faith in me skill, then?”

“Aye.”