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“THE THREE OF ye appeared as thick as thieves back there,” Kerr noted as he led Rose toward the dancers. “What were ye talking about?”

“Just the usual things that pass between women,” Rose replied, deliberately coy.

“I suppose they asked ye about me?”

She smiled. “Why? Were yer ears burning?”

“Perhaps.”

“Aye, they did ask … although they tempered their curiosity, and I gave little away.” She wasn’t surprised he wanted to know what passed between women when their menfolk were absent.

His mouth quirked. “Why is that?”

Her smile faded as she held his gaze. “Because I’m not sure what to tell them … I hardly understand what is happening between us myself.”

“Me neither,” he murmured. “But I’m glad ye are here with me tonight.”

“As am I.” She searched his face. “Ye look happier this eve, Kerr. Have ye let yer anger about the king robbing ye of justice go?”

He made a rueful face. “Not yet … but I will.” He shrugged then. “There’s little I can do to change it … and I’ll not let bitterness cast a shadow over this eve … not when I have such a bonnie lass at my side.” He flashed her a boyish smile. “Come, Rose … let us dance.”

He took her by the hand then, drawing her into the throng moving around the edge of the bonfire.

For a few moments, Rose felt self-conscious, as if everyone was staring at them—and they likely were—but then the steady beat of the drums took over, and she forgot about everything except him.

Before she knew it, Rose was whirling around the fire, her hand clinging to Kerr’s. And when she looked up into his face, his smile made a strange kind of joy thrum through her.

They danced until they were gasping for breath, until their feet ached. Afterward, they drew back a little to watch the leaping flames from a distance and enjoy cups of refreshing ale drawn from barrels men had rolled up the hill for the festival.

“I’ve never enjoyed a Beltaine like this one,” Rose admitted as she took a sip from her cup. She then shot him a look under lowered lashes. “I had no idea ye were such a good dancer.”

He grinned. “My mother insisted all her sons learned to dance … she always said no woman likes to have her toes trampled on.” He nodded to where Sheena Mackay stood on the other side of the crowd.

She was a tall, elegant woman, her white hair pulled back into a severe braid.

Rose had seen the woman from afar many a time over the years. She was intimidating.

“And yer Ma is right,” Rose admitted.

Sheena’s brow furrowed, in response to something the man standing next to her said. She then answered him, and although Rose couldn’t hear the words, she knew they were sharp. Her companion, big and broad-shouldered with dark hair laced with grey, didn’t seem to care.

“Whom is she talking to?” Rose asked.

“Colin Campbell,” Kerr replied. “Davina’s father … the Lord of Glenorchy. He’s taken to visiting us at the fire festivals of late.” There was a smile in his voice as he continued. “And he usually singles out Ma for attention, although, she hardly seems happy about it.”

Rose laughed. “No … yet he persists.”

“Aye, there’s something to be said about persistence.”

Something in his tone made her glance Kerr’s way once more. He was regarding her with that intense look on his face that made her belly flutter.

“Aye,” she replied softly. “Ye could have given up on me a long time ago, yet ye didn’t.”

Kerr’s eyes darkened. “I’m not a man who changes course easily, Rose,” he murmured back. “For better or for worse, once my mind is made up about something, it’s hard to alter it.”

Lord, he sounded as stubborn as her.

“But I’ve been awful to ye over the years,” she pointed out.

His mouth lifted at the corners. “Aye, ye are feisty, lass … I’ll give ye that.”

She pulled a face. “I had to be, with three headstrong men in my family.” She paused then. “Ma always let them tread over her, yet I told myself I’d never follow in her footsteps.” Her voice trailed off, sadness pressing down upon her. “It’s all a front ye know, Kerr … I’m not as hard as I appear.”

His gaze never wavered from hers. “I know.” And with that, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close, lowering his face to hers. He then kissed her, deeply, passionately, uncaring about who looked on.

For a heartbeat, Rose froze, shock rippling through her.

She hadn’t expected him to be so bold, not in front of his kin and the inhabitants of the broch and the village beyond.

Folk would gossip about this for days to come.

But then recklessness caught fire in her veins. Suddenly, she didn’t care what anyone thought. The feel of his mouth on hers made her melt against him, her hand splaying across his chest, over his thundering heart.

The Virgin forgive her, she could get used to this.

Kerr Mackay tasted faintly of the ale he’d just drunk, and his mouth was hot and sensual.

Hunger tightened in her core as the kiss drew out, and she gave herself up to the moment.

Across the crowd, Father Gregor watched the couple kissing.

They stood at the back of the revelers, and most of those who danced and made merry around the bonfire hadn’t noticed the embrace.

But he had—and the sight made jealousy cramp his stomach.

He started to tremble then and clenched his hands by his sides to quell it.

He’d tried to fight his desire for Rose MacAlister, had spent hours on his knees on the cold stone floor of the kirk praying for aid from God, but it was to no avail.

He still wanted her, and yet he hated her too.

She was a temptress.

From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, on the morning he’d been greeting locals outside the kirk, lust had caught him in a chokehold. And he couldn’t seem to break free.

The boldness of her gaze, the assurance with which she held herself, the imperious tilt of her chin, and that lush body of hers had become an obsession.

And to his eternal shame, he’d tried to make her his too, that day when she’d come to him to ask if her father and brothers could have a Christian burial. But she’d denied him. Her rejection had stung, and he’d nursed it like a bruise.

Pulse thundering in his ears, Gregor glared at where Kerr Mackay continued to kiss Rose.

And envy twisted like a serpent in his guts.

He’d noted that the Captain of the Guard had become protective of Rose of late, yet he hadn’t realized their relationship had developed further. The gossipmongers of Dun Ugadale had whispered that the lass couldn’t stand Kerr.

Things had clearly changed.

But Mackay wouldn’t have her, not if Gregor couldn’t. The way the man possessively mated his mouth with Rose’s made Gregor want to kill him.

Bile surged, burning the back of his throat. Only a witch could seduce men so—could make him entertain thoughts of murder.

He knew Rose had enemies in this village. Maisie MacDonald had stirred up folk against her. Yet apart from a few taunts, they’d left her alone.

They had to be warned just how dangerous she was. Rose MacAlister was a wicked woman. He’d been in control of his desires until coming to Dun Ugadale, but the lust she provoked in him had become unbearable.

Father Gregor turned away, clutching his robes to him as he pushed through the crowd.

Something had to be done about Rose—and he would see that it was.

“Finally, I have ye to myself for a few moments.” Eara caught hold of Rose’s arm and drew her away from the dancers.

Kerr had gone to get them cups of ale, and her friend had seized the moment and swooped.

Eara’s cheeks were flushed from the heat of the bonfire, her gaze bright with curiosity. “So, tell me … how is it ye have warmed to Kerr Mackay?”

Rose sighed. “I don’t know where to start.”

“But ye used to loathe him.”

“I did.”

“So, what happened?”

Rose squirmed under her friend’s barrage of questions. “I’ve had a lot of upheaval in my life of late, Eara. It’s altered my perspective.”

Eara inclined her head, her eyes narrowing. “Who are ye?” she muttered. “And what have ye done with my friend?”

Rose laughed. “I’m no changeling, Eara … but I have changed.”

“Well, I told ye he wasn’t the devil, didn’t I?”

“Ye did … yet I wasn’t ready to listen.” Rose paused then. “But enough about me, Eara. How have ye been of late?”

“Well enough,” Eara replied airily.

“Have yer customers returned?”

Eara glanced away before nodding.

“There’s no need to look so guilty about it,” Rose said, stepping close and wrapping her arms about her friend. “I told ye that I was the problem.”

“Aye,” Eara muttered, returning the tight hug, “but it still makes me angry. I want ye to come back … for things to be as they were.”

Drawing back, Rose met her friend’s eye once more. “Do ye want to risk hiring me again?”

Eara nodded.

“But what if everyone turns their back on ye … like they did before?”

Her friend’s slender jaw firmed in a stubborn expression Rose knew well. “We’ll deal with that if it happens … but we can’t let Maisie MacDonald and her friends drive a wedge between us.”

Heat ignited in the pit of Rose’s belly. She’d pulled away to protect the alewife yet in doing so had given the MacDonalds what they wanted. She longed to be working side by side with Eara again. “Ye are right,” she said firmly. “We won’t.”

“Good.” Eara’s pewter eyes glinted. “When can ye start?”

The evening drew out, and slowly many of those who’d gathered by the bonfire drifted away from its glow. Some sought out the shadows to couple, while most merely sought their beds.

Kerr and Rose left other couples still dancing around the fire and walked down the hill together, hand in hand, back to the broch, where he collected his courser from the stables.

He then helped Rose up onto Prionnsa’s back before vaulting up behind her.

Neither of them spoke as he gathered the reins in one hand. He then wrapped his other arm protectively around her midriff. They clip-clopped out of the barmkin and down the causeway before heading west, out of the village.

A full moon was out and cast a silvery veil over the land away from the ruddy glow of the Beltaine fire.

The warmth and softness of Rose’s body against his was distracting, to say the least, yet Kerr managed to keep his arousal in check. He realized he could be intense at times, and he was wary of overwhelming her. This evening had been the happiest of his life. He didn’t want to ruin it.

The silence between them was companionable rather than awkward, and peace wrapped itself around him in a gentle embrace.

This was what it would be like, to have Rose in his life every day. It felt right, as if everything had just clicked into place.

Rose’s hand covered where his rested against her stomach then, and her fingers interlaced with his.

“I don’t want this eve to end,” she whispered.

“Neither do I,” he murmured back.

“It feels as if I’ve strayed into someone else’s life.”

He smiled. “Does it?”

“I don’t ever remember feeling so carefree.”

A pause followed before Kerr gathered his courage.

He’d told himself he wouldn’t overwhelm her, yet the longing in his gut wouldn’t be silenced.

He had to say this. “This could be yer life, Rose. If ye wish it.” He swallowed then, attempting to loosen his throat as panic clawed its way up. What if she spurned him again?

“Kerr,” she whispered. “I don’t—”

“If ye were my wife, ye could live with me at Dun Ugadale. I’d cherish ye till the end of our days … I love ye, lass.” The words rushed out of him then. “I have for a long while.”

Her body tensed against his, and for a long, fraught moment, he thought she might launch herself off his gelding’s back and run screaming into the trees.

But she didn’t.

“I know,” Rose whispered huskily. “Somehow, I’ve always known …

I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.

” Reaching forward, she tugged at the reins, drawing Prionnsa to a halt.

They stood on a road dappled by moonlight, between sheltering pines.

Rose then twisted around so she sat side-saddle next to Kerr and could see his face.

Reaching up, she tenderly cupped his cheek with her hand. In the moonlight, her green eyes were dark and limpid, her expression solemn. In that instant, Kerr dared hope that she felt the same way as he did.

“I’ve never been in love before, Kerr,” she whispered. “But if it means that I can’t bear to be parted from ye … then it seems we are afflicted by the same thing.”