Page 4

Grim satisfaction lifted the corners of Duncan’s mouth, and he slapped his cousin’s back.

“Ah, Kinnon MacRae, what would yer own mother be sayin’ about havin’ as gullible a man as ye fer a son?

” He savored the feel of the brogue rolling off his tongue.

In the Tower he’d been beaten senseless more than once for speaking Gaelic outright.

It had incited the guards to a fury, and many of the other Scottish prisoners had learned to confine themselves to English if they spoke at all.

But Duncan had refused. It had been the only method of rebellion open to him, and no matter what the physical cost, it had helped to keep his soul free.

Kinnon stood still, stupefied for a moment; then he threw his entire weight against Duncan, knocking him off balance.

His chuckle rumbled from deep in his belly.

“Sure the evil fairies had a hand in makin’ a worthless wretch like ye, Duncan MacRae.

Take yourself off, then. But dinna say you were lackin’ the offer of my help. ”

Duncan righted himself and gave a quick nod, more pleased at Kinnon’s concern than he’d ever admit.

He took a deep breath of the clean Highland air, filling his lungs, as if its freshness could remove all memory of the Tower’s stench.

Looking up, he checked the position of the sun.

Just past noon. There was still plenty of time to pick up the scent and hunt down his prey.

With a glance at his men, he started up the stony embankment.

Intense pride burned in his breast. He was Duncan MacRae, chieftain of his clan. Kinnon was fiercely loyal to him, as were all of these warriors. They’d risked their futures to come together once again under his leadership. They were counting on him.

And that was all the more reason for using any means necessary to seize the Ealach back from the thieving MacDonell wench who’d taken it.

Aileana tried to scrape away the dirt that clumped cool and gritty beneath her nails.

Straightening to her knees, she stretched her back for the first time since her escape from the MacRae leader more than two hours ago.

Her work here pleased her. No passerby would guess that behind the leaves and moss rested a secret grotto, or that within the shallow cave lay the precious Ealach .

Wiping her hands on her rumpled clothes, she edged back into the brush, promising herself that she’d return to get the amulet later when she was sure she wasn’t being followed.

She moved quickly from the spot, careful to avoid leaving cracked branches or crushed vegetation.

But after several minutes of ducking and hiding, she failed to see any sign that she was nearing an allied clan.

Spotting another leafy copse of trees ahead, she decided to creep into the shadows to reconsider her plan.

Bark scratched her as she crouched near a trunk, then she settled onto the soggy earth.

Peering through the branches, she could just see a sliver of blue sky above her.

When she looked ahead, however, it was as if a magic transformation had taken place in the forest. Sun slanted into a tiny glade less than twenty paces away, beckoning her with warmth.

Her heart rolled with a sickening thud. It was an accustomed sensation, just like being back home, gazing from the confinement of her chamber to a freedom she wasn’t permitted to enjoy.

She struggled against the temptation to dart into the little clearing.

To just this once dance in the sun or scamper in the leaves.

A niggling voice echoed in her head, reminding her that she could do whatever she wanted now.

There were no walls to hold her, no barriers now other than those of her own mind.

With the Ealach concealed, she was free to go where she chose.

But what if it was dangerous? She chewed her lip, trying to weigh the harm in indulging herself. A swift glance in either direction assured her that nothing was amiss. In truth, she most likely feared for naught. The MacRae devil couldn’t possibly think her alive now.

A flare of excitement shot to the ends of her fingers and toes.

She would do it. Ignoring the quaking of her stomach, she scrambled into the clearing and sat in the middle of it, soaking up the sights, sounds and smells of the woodland as if she’d never get enough.

For this one, perfect moment she was free!

Free to move and explore. To dig in the dirt or lay in the sun. Free and—

Alone .

A hollow ache bloomed in her with that grim reminder, quelling her enthusiasm.

She pulled her knees to her chest. Saints above, what was she thinking?

She had nowhere to go, no one to protect her.

And it was still possible that she was being followed.

Sitting in this clearing left her exposed. Vulnerable.

Aileana threw herself back into the cover of brush at the clearing’s edge. Only then did she allow herself to take a breath. She’d been so foolish! Never again could she forget her circumstances. Father was dead, and Gavin and Robert might well be, too. Who knew if any of her clan had survived?

Heat prickled her eyelids. Her brothers had been the only spot of joy in her life. She couldn’t bear the thought of them lying crumpled and wounded. Or slain like Father . Her breath came faster, and the pressure behind her eyes swelled.

Swallowing hard, Aileana rubbed her hand across her nose. She wouldn’t cry. She had to be strong to make her clan proud. She’d figure out what to do. She’d go and—

A tingle shivered up her spine, despite the protection of her hiding place.

She’d heard footsteps on the ground nearby, she was sure of it.

A twig crackled to the left of the clearing, and Aileana’s gaze darted to the spot.

Something flashed in the sunlight. Something metallic, long and sharp.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she tried to inch farther back into the concealing trees.

Her cursed hair would be like a beacon in the light.

She might as well jump up and down and wave her arms.

Something dug into her thigh as she slid along the ground, and she tasted blood as she bit her lip to keep from yelping.

Dragon’s breath, how could she have been so stupid?

Never underestimate your foe. The words rang shrill and clear in her head, Gavin’s warning from their childhood games with claymores echoing too late to be heeded.

She’d broken a fundamental rule, and now she would pay.

She felt blood, warm and wet on her leg from where the stick had gouged her, but she ignored the sting as she inched toward the copse. Hair rose on the back of her neck and her breath froze.

“There she is!”

The cry pierced the glen, and Aileana’s muscles bunched into a knot of energy an instant before she shot to her feet and ran.

She’d never make it. At any second she expected to feel the cutting rip of an arrow between her shoulder blades.

But then, somehow, she was within the shelter of the trees…

and flat on her face. Alancing pain shot from her ankle up her leg, and she rolled to her side with a gasp.

The root that had caught her foot looked innocuous, but its gnarly strength had been enough to make her see stars.

Biting her lip, Aileana dragged herself through the damp leaves, groping her way to a hollowed-out trunk that was tipped on its side.

If she could just wedge her self inside it, she might remain undetected.

Her blood pounded and her breath came ragged as she started to dig her way into the hiding place.

The fertile smell of rotted wood filled her nose.

She didn’t hear anything but her own labored breathing, until a deep voice behind her echoed, “I’d hate to have my men shoot that pretty backside of yours, but if you don’t stop burrowing like a hunted fox, you can be sure you’ll be serving as their trophy for the day. ”