Last winter, Keegan had scuffled with McMurdo in Smoo Cave, and the old highwayman had kicked Keegan in the groin. He’d fought past the pain and subdued McMurdo by holding a knife to his throat. He shouldn’t have been so lenient with the bastard.

Keegan and those beside him stared back at the elevated green hillside. ’Twas too quiet, water trickling in a small burn and the late spring breeze fluttering the leaves of a nearby bush the only sounds. How he wished the mist would clear away, taking with it the outlaws’ cover.

Keegan glanced back at Lady Seona, glad to see eight armored guards surrounding her and the other women. They were well-protected. One less thing for him to worry about when the outlaws decided to show themselves.

Isobel held a lethal-looking dagger in her hand. ’Twas one she often carried in a scabbard at her side. Did Seona own a weapon? Would she even know how to use one? He should’ve taught her how to use a blade before this journey.

“Ready yourselves,” Dirk said, pulling a pistol from his belt.

Four archers on foot nocked their arrows and drew back the bow strings.

Keegan unsheathed his basket-hilt broadsword and held a targe before him to deflect any arrows or sword strikes. His gaze traveled up the green hillside, swathed in vibrant bracken fern where men could easily hide. Plaid flickered in the hazy gray mist. “Look.” He pointed with his sword. “They’re going to try to ambush us from the hill.”

“Move the women over there,” Dirk directed the guards, pointing toward an indention in the hillside surrounded by rocks and scrubby bushes. “And help them dismount. Put the horses in front of them.”

“Have a care,” Lady Isobel said low, but her concerned words to her husband were clear.

“Aye,” Dirk responded.

Keegan envied their relationship. ’Twas obvious they were mad for each other. He yearned for that closeness with Lady Seona. But now was not the time to ponder such things. He needed to focus and clear his mind. Lives depended on it.

Movement at the top of the hill drew his attention.

“He may have stones the size of cannonballs,” Rebbie said. “But I’d love naught more than to shoot them off.”

Dirk snorted. “I hope you get the chance, my friend.”

All the men except the archers held swords and round targes, ready for battle.

“’Haps you should move back, Dirk. The last thing we need is for the chief to be hit by a stray arrow.” Keegan felt daft even suggesting it, considering Dirk was probably the most capable warrior of them all, tall and broad of shoulder and about the same size as Keegan. They had sparred much over the past few months, training and keeping in practice. Sometimes Keegan won their matches and sometimes Dirk did, proving they were evenly matched.

“Don’t worry over me, cousin.”

An arrow whizzed down from the hill. All the men lifted their targes. The arrow struck Keegan’s and bounced off the central brass boss or one of the metal studs.

“That little bastard,” Dirk muttered and dismounted. He led his beloved horse, Tulloch, to a safer spot and the other men did the same, including Keegan, not wanting their horses seriously injured or killed.

“Show yourself, Haldane!” Dirk yelled toward the hill. “Coward!”

A head popped up out of the bracken. ’Twas difficult to identify the person at this distance but he appeared to have red hair like Haldane.

Dirk aimed his pistol and fired, but his target ducked.

“I don’t want to kill my own brother, but I will if he forces my hand.” Dirk shoved the pistol into his belt. “There he is again! Archers, shoot!”

At this distance, and with the mist reducing visibility, Keegan could not tell if the man was indeed Haldane. If not, he was likely in his gang. Besides that, he’d shot the first arrow, provoking retaliation.

The MacKay archers let fly several arrows.

“Come out and fight like men!” Dirk called out.

Arrows streaked toward them from the hillside. With their targes, they easily deflected or caught each one.

Annoyance twisted through Keegan. He was tired of this cat and mouse game and eager for a good fight. “I’m going after him.”

“Not without me,” Dirk said.

“Nay, you stay here. The clan needs you.”

“The clan needs you as well,” Dirk grumbled.

“You are the chief,” Keegan argued, matching his cousin’s fearsome glare.

“Do you think that matters? Haldane is my problem and I’ll deal with him.”

“I’m ready to go after him and McMurdo,” Rebbie said, eager battle-lust gleaming in his dark brown eyes.

“We’ll all go,” Dirk said, motioning to a half dozen of his men.

***

Lady Seona Murray watched with sickened dread as Keegan, Dirk and several more men charged boldly toward the hill where the outlaws lurked.

She’d stayed with the MacKays for several months and almost considered them her clan now. They had certainly shown her more care and consideration than her own clan had.

“Dirk,” Lady Isobel called, but not too loud. If her husband heard, he ignored her. “He is mad,” she grumbled through clenched teeth as the men disappeared from sight, the eerie mist enfolding them. “Haldane will kill him if he has half a chance.”

“They are capable warriors,” Seona said, knowing she was right, but at the same time realizing they were not invincible. She said a silent prayer for their safety.

“Aye,” Isobel said, her dark brows furrowed.

The eight well-armed guards would not let the women move from the cover of the huge rocks surrounding them on three sides.

Seona was equally worried about Keegan, but could not voice her concerns. Her Aunt Patience, standing on Isobel’s other side, could never know that Seona held Keegan MacKay in such high regard. All winter and spring he had made a point to greet Seona at every opportunity with a charming smile and a bow. Sometimes she would catch him watching her with an intense focus from the other side of the great hall, but he had not done anything more intimate than usher her to the high table and pull out a chair for her almost every evening.

His pale blue eyes enchanted her, made her feel vibrantly alive. They reflected great interest and longing. She wanted to do naught but stare into his eyes for hours. His thick, tawny mane looked as if it would be soft and silky; her fingers itched to find out. Though he was a tall, broad-shouldered warrior, his size did not intimidate her, for he had an easy smile. The only part of him she had touched was his arm when he escorted her. Each time she slipped her hand around his elbow, she savored the hardness of his well-developed muscles.

A few times this spring, on rare and precious sunny days, she and Isobel had watched the men training with swords in the walled barmkin outside Castle Dunnakeil. She could not tear her gaze away from Keegan then, especially when he grew warm and threw off his doublet. His muscles were obvious through the thin damp linen of his shirt, and his calf muscles beneath the bottom edge of his plaid intriguing.

She only hoped he would be careful as he and the men pursued the outlaws. With each minute that passed in relative silence, Seona’s stomach ached more and more. The mist before them, strangely lit from behind by morning sunlight, hurt her eyes. She squinted against the brilliance.

“Why have they not returned?” Isobel grumbled a quarter hour later.

Having no answer for her friend, Seona shook her head. Indeed, what could be taking so long? Had they been ambushed and killed silently? A chill passed over her.

“Will one of you go check on them?” Isobel asked the bearded guard closest to her.

“Nay. The chief has commanded us to stay and protect you ladies,” he said in a brusque tone.

A sound from within the white mist caught Seona’s attention and then a movement, low to the ground.

Seona shoved Isobel into her aunt, toward the left side of the stony enclosure. Something struck the sandstone, spraying rock particles over them.