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Broderick bolted for his cave, the growing pink of the sky chasing him. He stumbled as the wave of lethargy moved through his limbs. Cursing, he dashed into the cave and ducked beneath the thick leather curtain just as the next wave shuddered through his body.

He collapsed against the furs of his bed, breath ragged, his jaw clenched.

“Foolish girl,” he muttered, rubbing a hand down his face, before darkness took him.

∞∞ ∞

The morning light crept into the room, soft and golden, yet to Davina, it felt like a cruel intruder, unwelcome and harsh. She rolled onto her side, the dull throb of a headache pressing against her temples, and her limbs felt leaden with exhaustion.

The previous night was a relentless battle against sleep; every time her eyelids fluttered shut, nightmares clawed their way into her consciousness.

Arthur Forbes and Ian haunted her dreams, their figures looming ominously over her.

She could almost feel their rough hands gripping her arms, hear their voices dripping with malice.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She donned her house coat from the settee. “Who is it?” she asked at the door.

“Rosselyn,” her handmaid replied. “Cook made a nice tray to break your fast.”

Davina unlatched the door. Rosselyn entered, balancing a tray laden with fresh bread, cheese, and two steaming cups of tea.

“Good morning, milady,” Rosselyn said, her brow furrowing as she took one look at Davina. “Saints preserve us, you look like you’ve wrestled a demon in your sleep.”

Davina managed a weak smile, closing the door and finger combing her tangled hair out of her face. “Close enough.”

The maid set the tray down on the small table by the balcony, her hands on her hips as she studied Davina with concern. “Nightmares again?”

Davina nodded, pulling her housecoat tighter around her shoulders. “Aye. Forbes and Ian. Together. Beating me into submission. I couldn’t escape them, no matter how hard I tried.”

Rosselyn’s face darkened. She crossed the room and took Davina’s hand in hers. “You’ve been through more than most, milady. But you’re safe now. No one’s going to lay a hand on you again.”

Davina squeezed her hand, grateful for the reassurance, though the knot of fear in her chest refused to fully loosen. “I hope you’re right, Rosselyn.”

“I might be,” Rosselyn said, her tone lightening as she strolled to the breakfast table and began buttering some bread. “You might not need to worry about Forbes after all.”

Davina blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Rosselyn cast her a sly look over her shoulder. “He left before sunrise.”

Davina’s spine straightened, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “He what?”

“Aye,” Rosselyn said, nodding. “Packed his things and rode out before the cock crowed. Your uncle wants to speak with you as soon as you’ve finished your meal.”

Davina stared at her, her heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. “Help me dress,” she said, rushing to the wardrobe.

Rosselyn frowned. “You should eat first. You’ll keel over if you don’t.”

“I’ll eat later,” Davina said firmly, already rifling through the wardrobe. “Just help me, please.”

Minutes later, dressed in a simple yet elegant gown of deep green, her hair hastily pinned back, Davina stood outside the study. She inhaled a steadying breath before knocking.

“Enter,” Tammus’s voice called from within.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her uncle sat at the desk, his usually stern expression marred by an even deeper scowl—if that was even possible. A large book lay open in front of him, his thick fingers drumming against the wood with an impatient rhythm .

“Uncle,” Davina said, dipping her head in greeting.

Tammus didn’t return the pleasantry. Instead, he slammed the book shut with a loud thud , making her flinch. “Arthur Forbes has changed his mind,” he said, his voice clipped.

Davina’s heart soared, but she kept her face carefully neutral, bowing her head to hide the smile threatening to break free. “Oh?” she said, her voice soft and measured.

Tammus’s scowl deepened. “Aye. Last night, he was content to wed you. This morning, he decided he didn’t want such a headstrong woman.”

Her lips twitched. She couldn’t help it. “I see.”

Her uncle’s eyes narrowed. “You see? That’s all you’ve to say? You sat there last night, arguing about the damn star constellations. He didn’t want to talk about them, and you pushed the subject anyway.”

Davina raised her chin, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Star gazing is a hobby I thoroughly enjoy. I also enjoy Greek mythology. What am I supposed to do, Uncle? Sit there with my mouth shut and pretend I don’t have thoughts of my own? That I don’t enjoy hobbies?”

Tammus pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration radiating from every line of his weathered face. “Aye. If it would get you married, mayhap that’s exactly what you should do.”

She stared at him, stunned. “Are you so desperate to see me married that you’d put me back into a miserable union? You know what Arthur would have done to me. You know he’d have mistreated me in the name of ‘disciplining’ his wife. And for what? Because talking about stars made him uncomfortable?”

Her uncle sighed, sagging back into his chair.

“All right, lass. You’ve made your point,” he admitted gruffly.

“You were not compatible, and of course I don’t want you completely unhappy.

But Davina…” He leaned forward, clasping his hands together with a grave expression.

“I’m going to level with you. My business needs me back home.

This is taking up too much of my time. I’ve one more suitor lined up for you.

He’ll be here on the morrow. The fifth and final one. ”

Davina opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“Please, lass,” he said, his voice weary. “ Please consider this one. He’s your age, bright, kind, and a good chap. If this one doesn’t suit you, I…”

Davina dared to hope he was reconsidering her original offer to run the wool business under his name. She leaned forward, holding her breath.

“Fergus MacLeod has… Well…”

“MacLeod?” Her voice rose with disbelief, fists clenching at her sides. “After what he did to me, you’d actually consider him?”

Tammus stood, planting his fists on the desk with a thud.

“You’re not leaving me any choice, Davina!

And don’t ask again to run the wool business yourself!

I see that look in your eye. Even under my name, it’s still illegal!

How many times do I have to tell you? It.

Is. Illegal! So, if you don’t want to marry MacLeod, you’d best find something ye like about Finlay McIntosh.

I’d wager he’s a damn sight better than Fergus. Those are your options.”

Davina bowed her head, her breath coming shallow and tight. What choice did she have? She closed her eyes. “I promise,” she whispered at last. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Relief softened Tammus’s features. He nodded. “Thank the saints.” He gave her a once-over. “You look like you didn’t sleep well.”

“I had a difficult night,” she admitted. “The thought of wedding Arthur Forbes…” She shook her head. “I’m glad he changed his mind.”

Her uncle nodded. “So am I, lass.”

Her stomach growled loudly in protest, and her cheeks flushed as Tammus chuckled.

“Off with you now and break your fast.”

“Aye, Uncle.” Davina curtsied and rushed out, closing the door behind her.

She fought the tears on her way up the stairs.

Back in her chamber, Davina leaned against the door and let the tears spill down her clenched jaw.

Rosselyn scurried to her side. “You do have to marry Forbes?”

Davina shook her head. “Uncle said he changed his mind, but if I don’t accept this next suitor, he’s going to give my hand to Fergus MacLeod.”

“MacLeod?” Rosselyn’s grip tightened on Davina’s arm. “After what—”

“I said those very words. But aye. He says I’ve left him no choice.”

Davina shuffled to the breakfast table and sank into her chair. Though her appetite had fled, her stomach growled again, so she grabbed a piece of buttered bread and shoved it into her mouth.

Rosselyn joined her, pouring two cups of tea and handing one over.

They drank in silence, the weight of the morning pressing upon Davina’s shoulders, hope flickering out like a dying flame.

∞∞ ∞

Ian Russell stared at the grave marker bearing his name.

Beside it, another grave bore the name of his father, Munro.

A mixture of fear and grief troubled his heart for a fleeting moment before he made room for relief.

He was free. Ian straightened, allowing his posture to reflect the independent man he now was.

“Can I help you?”

Ian turned to face a vaguely familiar man about his age. Where had he seen him before? A name stirred in his memory, paired with a younger face that resembled the man now standing before him. Brian? Aye, a cousin he hadn’t seen since childhood.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Brian repeated, his tone firmer.

“Aye, forgive me for not responding,” Ian said, casting a mournful glance at the gravestones. “I had come here expecting to find friends…and instead, I find graves.”

Brian’s posture softened, his guarded expression giving way to sympathy as he stepped closer. “’Tis sorry I am you had to find out like this. Poor souls. The Battle of Flodden.”

“Aye, I guessed as much,” Ian said with a somber nod. “Just coming back from that horror myself.” He lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal the ragged, blotchy scars that marred the right side of his ribs and belly.

Brian winced. “A lucky one you are, my friend. Not many can say they walked away from it as we can.”

Ian nodded, pulling his shirt back down.

“You look vaguely familiar,” Brian speculated. “You knew Ian and Munro well?”

Ian offered a weak smile and nodded, scratching his beard. “That I did. You also look familiar to me.”

The man stretched his hand out in greeting. “Brian Russell. ”

“Ian.” He stayed his tongue before he said the rest of his name out of habit. “Ian Grant.”

“Oh, the same name?”

“Aye, ‘tis a common curse.” Ian laughed, and Brian chuckled with him. “So, with the last name Russell, how are you related to Ian and Munro?”

“I be a distant cousin. When they passed, their lands went to me, but I’m afraid I’ll have to sell them.”

“Passed on to you?” Ian masked his reaction behind a veil of concern. “Pray tell, Ian’s wife—”

“Oh, nay, sir!” Brian reassured him quickly.

“She’s alive and well, thank the Lord. Nay, though we didn’t get to see her, as her uncle…

What was his name? Oh, Tammus. Tammus Keith.

He managed the exchange. Said Ian’s wife was too grief-stricken to remain at the holdings.

And since she was with child, it wasn’t proper to marry her off right away, so she returned to her childhood home.

Even though the property rightly belonged to me, I didn’t feel right not giving her some of the inheritance.

Just to help her out since she lost everything.

Mayhap she’s married off by now, though. ”

“Mayhap.” Ian fought to keep his voice steady.

“Would you like to come in, join us for supper?” Brian offered.

With his fists tightly clenched behind him, Ian pressed his nails into his palms. “I appreciate your kindness, my friend, but I really must leave. My own family awaits my return. They probably assume I’ve been dead for quite some time, given how long I’ve been gone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Most assuredly.” Ian shook Brian’s hand and turned to retrieve his horse, tied just inside the front gate. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the reins and mounted. “Thank you again. I appreciate the information.”

“Godspeed!” Brian called after him.

Ian raised a trembling hand in farewell. As he rounded the bend in the road, certain he was out of sight and earshot, he released a guttural screech that left his voice raw. “That bitch!” he snarled, repeating the phrase as he pounded the pommel of his saddle until both throat and hands ached.

A child. She’d been pregnant before he left for the war.

He could have stayed behind. It would’ve been an option—especially with every other man in their households already pledged to the king’s banner.

She hadn’t even told him.

Ian clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tightening as a deep, simmering rage coursed through him, while his eyes narrowed, locking onto the source of his anger, which blurred his vision.

If he rode without stopping at an inn or tavern, he could make the journey to Aberdeen and confront Tammus.

Legally, Davina was still his wife. That meant her family’s land—and the wool business—should rightfully belong to him.

With the meager coins in his pouch, he’d have to camp along the way—an indignity he hadn’t anticipated.

He’d expected to return to wealth, to recognition, not a stranger’s pity and an empty legacy.

His grip tightened on the reins. That woman had ruined his life in more ways than one.

“No pain will be too great for you, Davina,” he muttered under his breath. “You’ll give me everything I deserve…while I make certain you get everything you deserve.”

He urged the horse forward, though kept its gait steady to conserve strength for the long ride ahead. Curses tumbled from his lips, dark promises for his soon-to-be-dead wife.