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ANOTHER SILENCE FELL in the tent.

Greer reached down, her hand covering Brodie’s. She could feel the tremor in his body, the grief that gathered like a storm within him.

She inhaled slowly, squeezing his hand. “Ye take too much upon yer shoulders, mo chridhe,” she whispered. “There are some things that are beyond our control.”

“But my recklessness put ye at risk.”

“We were both reckless,” she reminded him. “And I regret nothing” —her voice turned fierce then— “ nothing .”

Brodie raised his face, tipping it up so their gazes met. Her breathing caught to see that his cheeks were wet with tears. “Please tell me he wasn’t cruel to ye,” he said huskily.

“He wasn’t.” Greer’s hand lifted to cup his damp cheek instead. “Malcolm was kind to me. Do not torture yerself over such things.”

Brodie’s gaze guttered, and something tightened deep inside Greer’s chest in response. He was clearly beating himself up over this—yet his self-recrimination had turned him inward. He seemed to have forgotten her .

“I’m not the same lass as before,” she said as a tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. “Life has taken pieces out of me.” She managed a lopsided smile then. “Yer sunshine lass has lost her sparkle.”

Brodie’s throat worked, tears glittering upon his eyelashes. “I will take care of ye, my love,” he vowed, his expression was fierce now, his palm still splayed across her belly. “I will make things better again … I give ye my word.”

“Brodie,” she whispered, “please don’t make such promises.”

She meant it too. Grand declarations wouldn’t help her now.

Everything was still so raw, and both their emotions were heightened at present.

However, she also had someone else to consider—this life inside her.

She appreciated his loyalty, his courage, yet neither of those things altered the predicament she was in.

She wouldn’t tell him of her intention to ask the Campbells to take her in. Not yet.

But they both knew Iver wouldn’t likely welcome her at Dun Ugadale.

Greer drew in a long, shaky breath before continuing, “Ye shouldn’t make such declarations, anyway … not without checking with Iver first.”

Brodie’s gaze shadowed, and his lips parted as he readied himself to respond.

“He doesn’t need to.” A soft female voice forestalled him.

Greer glanced sideways to see Bonnie standing at the entrance to the tent, Reid swaddled in her arms. “Iver is currently unable to make decisions … yet I shall in his stead. If ye wish it, ye can return with us and make Dun Ugadale yer home.”

Brodie rose to his feet then, and both he and Greer stared at Bonnie, taken aback by her announcement.

Seeing their shock, Bonnie’s mouth curved. Her face was blotchy from weeping, her bright-blue eyes red-rimmed, yet she held herself like the lady she now was.

“Are ye certain of this?” Greer asked huskily. “Iver won’t want me in the broch.”

Bonnie gave a soft snort. “Ye speak as if he hates ye. He doesn’t.”

“Ye didn’t see him that day,” Greer replied, shaking her head. “He was incensed.” She glanced over at Brodie. “And he hit ye so hard, I thought he’d killed ye.”

Brodie pulled a face. “Aye, it was a good punch, and my head hurt sorely for a day or two afterward … but Bonnie speaks the truth. Iver doesn’t hate ye. He doesn’t hate me either. We have mended things, lass.”

“The responsibility of his role weighs heavily upon Iver at times,” Bonnie admitted softly.

She moved closer then, her brow furrowing.

“There are times when he must act ruthlessly for the good of the clan … but it takes its toll on him. Ever since returning from Druminnor, he has suffered behind closed doors … has struggled with remorse.” She paused then, her gaze flicking between Greer and Brodie.

“Fear not … none of us will leave ye out in the cold.”

Greer stared back at her, still not daring to believe that she could return to Dun Ugadale. She glanced Brodie’s way once more.

He was watching her with such a look of tenderness and hope that her breathing caught, and a soft gasp escaped her.

“Is this what ye want?” she asked, turning to face him fully once more.

“I’ve lain with another man … and there is a chance that I do carry Malcolm Sutherland’s bairn.

What will ye do if that comes to pass?” Asking such a question made her feel queasy, yet she couldn’t let this lie.

She could leave nothing to chance now. She might not give birth for another moon and a half, and the bairn might end up with pale-blue eyes like Malcolm’s.

They both had to be ready for that eventuality.

She wasn’t sure how Brodie would react though, and nerves clenched tight in her stomach as she prepared herself for his response.

To her surprise, he favored her with a soft smile. A heartbeat later, Brodie stepped close, raising his hands to cup her face. His touch was gentle, reverent, as if she were made of eggshell. And when he answered, his voice was low and husky. “Then I would love the child as my own.”

Greer stared up at him, her gaze misting once more. “Can we take it slowly?” she asked after a pause, her voice strained. “I meant what I said before … I need time … to heal.”

“Aye, lass,” he murmured. “I will give ye all the time ye need.”

A day after the victory, the king arrived at the encampment with a blast of horns. Crowds of soldiers formed a welcoming party as he rode into their midst.

Greer was among the crowd, with Brodie at her side.

Tiredness pressed down upon her today. Just that morning, she’d seen her dead husband’s soldiers off.

They were carrying Malcolm’s body back to Dunrobin, but Greer wouldn’t be going with them.

All the same, she’d stood at the edge of the camp, watching the Sutherlands depart, sadness and guilt crushing her breastbone.

Fate had dealt Malcolm a cruel hand—and yet she was now free.

It felt both wrong and right.

“All hail the king!” Someone shouted in the crowd.

“All hail the king!”

Greer went up on tiptoe, straining to catch a glimpse of their monarch.

It was difficult though, for she was small and surrounded by a sea of big men.

She was tired today and had been plagued by a dragging heaviness ever since she’d risen from her cot.

Exhaustion was to be expected though, for she’d been through a great emotional upheaval over the past day.

“Here, lass … let me assist ye.” Brodie caught her firmly around the waist and hoisted Greer up into his arms. “Is that better?”

The warmth and strength of his body against hers was intoxicating—as was his scent—reminding Greer of what she’d missed over the past months.

Even though they’d been reunited the day before, everything still felt so new.

They hadn’t held each other or kissed. As she’d asked, Brodie was cautious with her.

“Aye,” she gasped.

“I’m not hurting ye, am I?”

“No,” she squeaked.

This position did afford her a better view though, and over the rows of domed helmets, she spied a figure clad in flowing crimson, riding upon a magnificent grey courser.

James the Second of Scotland was younger than she’d expected and more handsome. A mane of flame-red hair flowed down his back, and deep-brown eyes surveyed the excited crowd. He had a lean face, his pale complexion marred by a livid red birthmark upon one cheek.

Like everyone else, Greer stared at him, fascinated.

Then a tickle of recognition rose within her.

That hair. The shape of his face. They all reminded her of someone.

Greer peered harder before stifling a gasp. Bonnie.

“Aye, he is my brother … my half -brother.”

Greer’s sharp intake of breath filled the empty tent.

After the king had made his way past, toward the heart of the encampment, where he’d meet with his victorious captains and the Black Douglas captives, Greer had murmured an excuse to Brodie.

She then picked up her skirts and hurried back to the Mackay enclosure.

There, she’d found Bonnie sitting nursing Reid.

Her friend’s face was drawn and tired, for she’d stayed with Iver most of the night. He’d awoken yet was too weak to rise from his cot.

Greer didn’t want to disturb her—yet the moment she’d entered the tent and Bonnie had seen her face, she’d known something was amiss.

“What is it?” she’d asked, her brow furrowing.

Bonnie’s maid wasn’t present, and so Greer had blurted out. “Ye and the king could be twins.”

And now, following Bonnie’s equally blunt response, Greer merely stared, surprise rendering her speechless.

Bonnie’s mouth curved into a rueful smile. “However, it’s not knowledge I want bandied around.”

“I won’t say a word,” Greer assured her, recovering her wits. Moving over to Bonnie, she knelt on the furs next to the cot. Her lower back gave a twinge, and she winced, rubbing it. “I promise.”

Bonnie’s smile turned strained. “Thank ye.”

“Does Iver know?”

Bonnie nodded. “Most of the family does … save Davina and Rose.” She shifted Reid to her other breast before tenderly stroking the downy red hair on his crown. “Unfortunately, for me, the Stewarts have a distinctive look to them,” she murmured.

“And the king? Does he know of ye?”

“I doubt it … and it’s better that way.” Bonnie glanced up then, her gaze meeting Greer’s. “Do ye see me differently now that ye know I’m a royal bastard?”

Greer gave a soft snort. “I can’t believe ye would even ask me that,” she replied, holding Bonnie’s eye. “I care not for such things. Ye are my friend … the best one I’ve ever found.”

Bonnie’s eyes glistened. She then reached out and placed a hand on Greer’s arm.

The two women sat for a short while in silence, while Reid greedily nursed, his tiny hands kneading at his mother’s breast.

“How is Iver faring?” Greer asked gently, eventually shattering the companionable silence as she rubbed at her aching lower back with her free hand.

“He’s developed a fever,” Bonnie replied, her lovely features tightening. “The surgeon has packed the wound with woundwort … and says it might help.” A tremble crept into Bonnie’s voice then, and she swallowed. “What if I lose him, Greer?”

“Ye won’t,” Greer replied with a determined shake of her head. She squeezed Bonnie’s hand tightly before giving a sharp gasp, her free hand going to her belly.

Bonnie’s gaze widened. “What is it?”

“I just felt something … strange … oh, Lord!” Greer gazed down to see a large wet patch expanding over her lap. Liquid now trickled between her thighs. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing unexpected.”

Greer glanced up to see that Bonnie’s mouth had curved, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Yer waters have just broken … the bairn is on its way.”