One

The silence hung heavy and thick in the air. Just like the mist that swirled eerily, almost unnaturally, around the group of men lying in wait for their deadly enemy.

Braden MacAlister knew the time was right. He would attack and kill Niall MacDougall once and for all. Order would be restored to the land again.

And maybe then Braden could plan more than ambushes.

A horse snorted in the distance, the sound carrying in the stillness of the predawn hour. His foe was right on schedule. Braden had waited for this day for two years. He had planned and plotted and planned some more. All had to go perfectly.

His men, all marked outlaws like himself, were fierce Highlanders and vicious, brutal opponents in battle. They would be the ones to set things right. They would be the ones to end the malevolence.

The pass where Niall had to travel was narrow, confining him and his men between two mountains. Most would have gone around but Niall was a man who liked to prove he couldn’t be taken.

A slow smile spread Braden’s lips. Today, things were going to change.

The soft, four-toned whistle sliced through the early morning air. It was the signal from Keith that Niall neared.

Braden had seen this moment many times in his mind. He’d thought out every possibility. Every move. Every countermove. He was as prepared as he could ever be.

He released a long breath when he caught sight of the first horse as it came around the bend. Behind the guard, Braden spotted Niall’s dark head, his hair tied in a neat queue at his neck. And with Niall was his company of twenty men.

Niall never travelled alone. He knew how much he was despised throughout Scotland. Everyone said it was just a matter of time before he was killed.

Another whistle, softer, but in the two-tone that meant trouble. Braden narrowed his gaze on his opponent. What was Niall up to?

And then Braden saw the wagon. The metal bars on the small upper windows told him all he needed to know about the occupants.

Prisoners.

Braden glanced across the road to his men. He waited for their nod of agreement to continue with their mission before he looked to the men beside and behind him.

Niall had taken from all of them in one form or another. Each warrior wanted his revenge, needed retribution for the atrocities. Each man wanted to be the one to strike the killing blow.

Braden tightened his grip on his sword and on the dagger he held in the other hand. The smirk on Niall’s all-too-perfect face was too much to bear. But before this day ended, Braden would see that smile erased.

For ever.

Niall jerked his horse to a halt almost directly across from Braden. Niall was tall and blessed with exceptional looks that made women do all sorts of things to gain his attention.

But he had a heart as evil as the devil.

Braden knew Niall couldn’t see him in the thick grass and plentiful boulders. Yet, the way Niall’s eyes searched the mountainsides, it seemed he was looking for something.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, Braden MacAlister,” Niall taunted.

Braden stiffened. There was no way Niall could have discovered his plans. Braden trusted his men explicably. None of them would have betrayed him.

Braden didn’t move. His men stayed as motionless as he. Braden didn’t have long to wait before Niall lifted a hand to one of the guards near the wagon.

The door at the back of the wagon opened, the squeak was loud but soon drowned out by a startled cry.

“They have women,” Rory whispered as he leaned next to Braden.

Braden couldn’t see who was taken from the wagon as the guard pushed the prisoner through the throng of horses and men. With a shove, the prisoner stumbled and fell to her knees in a whirl of lavender skirt, her hair as black as midnight.

Niall jumped from his mount and grabbed the woman by the hair. Her hands instantly went to his to try and lessen the pain. She hurried to climb to her feet.

“I would see you now, Braden. Show yourself or I kill the wench,” Niall bellowed.

The mist had moved away from Niall and his men, as if it knew the black depths of their hearts and wanted no part of it.

Braden had no choice but to help the woman. Too many innocents had already died. He wouldn’t have her death on his soul, wouldn’t add the weight of another blameless life to his already considerable burden.

“Be ready,” Braden murmured to Rory.

Braden sheathed his sword, but kept his dagger ready in his left hand, the blade tucked against his forearm. He leapt atop the boulder he’d been hiding behind and glared down at the man who dared to call himself a Scot, much less a Highlander.

Jean was on the tip of her toes, trying to keep her hair from being yanked from her scalp. She had known no good would come from Niall MacDougall’s visit to her clan. What she hadn’t foreseen was him taking women and children as prisoners to force her clansmen to his service.

Niall had at first managed to lure a number of women to his side with his easy smile and handsomeness. But those women had learned quickly enough that a face and body as eye-catching as Niall’s couldn’t hide his evil for long.

Jean’s gaze searched the mountainside as Niall called for Braden MacAlister. Braden’s name had been whispered about the land for over a year now. Each time his name was repeated, each time he struck out to kill Niall, belief in him grew. Swelled. Expanded.

Braden was their last hope.

Many called him a ghost because of the way he moved from one place to the next with nary a sound, leaving no trace. Jean had hoped she might get to see the mighty Highlander. But she would have preferred it not to be while the tip of a sword was pressed into the small of her back.

“He will come for you,” Niall whispered in her ear. “It’s not in him to let an innocent die.”

“Unlike you.”

It was out of her mouth before she could think better of it. Then again, she had no illusions. Niall planned to kill her no matter what Braden did or didn’t do.

He chuckled. “Aye. Not like me.”

Jean jerked against his grasp, but his fingers wouldn’t loosen their hold of her hair. Tears stung her eyes from the pain, and she bit her tongue to keep from crying out.

Blood filled her mouth, the metallic taste making her gag. She was about to kick Niall when a man suddenly appeared atop a boulder to her left.

He stood like an ancient god of old with mist swirling around him, clinging to his bare chest and legs corded with sinew. Coiled violence emanated from him.

Braden MacAlister wore no shirt, only his kilt of red, green and blue. She drank in the sight of bronze skin over sculpted muscles. His shoulders were wide and thick. His arms hung casually at his side. He stood with his legs apart, his feet encased in boots up to his knees.

But it was the blue paint on his face, neck and chest that robbed her of breath.

He had marked himself, just as the ancient Celts had done so many years ago. Seeing Braden, with his eyes fixed on Niall and his dark, wavy locks falling about his face, proved that he was the ghost whispered about over the tables of Scotland.

“Ah, Braden,” Niall said. “I told the wench you wouldna let her die.”

Jean knew she needed to get away. It didn’t take a warrior to see that a battle was brewing. And she had no desire to be caught in the middle of it.

“Let the woman go.”

Braden’s demand was softly spoken, but his words were laced with steel.

Niall merely laughed. “For a price.”

“Name it.”

“Your head.”

Jean sucked in a breath. Her life meant nothing, but the freedom of their people meant everything. “Nay,” she said.

Braden’s gaze shifted to her. Their eyes locked, and she shook her head, praying he didn’t give himself over to Niall and his men.

The blade at her back pierced her skin. It was so unexpected that she couldn’t hold back her cry.

“Say more, you stupid bitch, and I’ll see you skewered on my blade,” Niall spat.

A war cry tore from Braden’s lips and he launched himself at Niall. Men poured from the mountain, their faces covered in the same blue paint as Braden.

Chaos erupted. Swords were drawn and war cries deafened her ears.

Niall jerked her against him, using her body as a shield. Two of his guards moved to protect him, swords and shields at the ready.

Jean couldn’t take her gaze off Braden. It was as if time slowed as he sailed through the air. His deep-set eyes were locked on the guards who blocked him from Niall.

Braden’s left arm came up and around. She saw the blade the instant the guard on her right did. The man tried to duck, but Braden was too quick. With lightning speed he sliced the guard’s neck.

When Braden landed, he spun and unsheathed his sword in one fluid movement. His weapon was up in time to block the second guard’s attack.

The clang of swords, cries of pain – and of death – surrounded Jean. She knew she couldn’t sit back and wait to be saved. If she wanted to get away from Niall, she’d have to do it herself.

The fact he had her body pulled against his as a sort of cowardly shield only made her despise him more. The blade poking into her back didn’t help things either.

But her father had always said she was resourceful.

Jean made a fist and swung it down and back as hard as she could. She knew she connected with Niall’s groin by the way air wheezed from his lungs and the dagger dropped from his hand.

She tried to run, but he still had a handful of her hair though he was bent double now, his face red as spittle fell from his lips. He glared at her, fury and the promise of death in his blue eyes.

“Let go,” Jean demanded and she clawed at his handsome face.

The malice she saw in Niall’s stare almost gave her pause. Almost. Jean’s fingers found his eyes and she felt her nails bend backwards sickeningly. She sank her other fingers into his skin, felt the thick texture of blood as it fell from the cuts she dug.

Niall bellowed and released her to cover his eyes. His nostrils flared with anger, deadly intent in his gaze. Jean prepared herself for death.

“You, bitch! How dare you mark my face,” he bellowed.

Just when Niall would have stepped towards her, a horse reared, kicking him with its hooves and sending him spinning backwards. The other horses began to dance around, the scent of blood and shouts from the men spooking them.

Jean backed away, careful not to run into any of the men locked in combat. When she looked to where Niall had fallen, she couldn’t find him.

She searched everywhere to no avail. He was gone.

Suddenly, a large hand wrapped around her arm. Jean raised her fist, prepared to strike whoever dared to touch her, only to find herself staring into startling blue eyes framed by thick black lashes.

She looked her fill at Braden’s square jaw and high forehead, his aquiline nose, and his wide lips. She liked how his lower lip was fuller than the top. She found herself staring at his mouth as she forgot everything but the man holding her.

“Are you hurt?” Braden asked.

Jean shook her head slowly, struck anew at the presence of Braden MacAlister. Blood coated him, but she didn’t know if it was his or that of his opponents.

Braden glanced around. “Where is MacDougall?”

“I … I struck him. The horses reared and kicked him, and then he was gone.”

“Shite. He cannot have gone far.”

Jean watched and Braden motioned some of his men to follow as he scouted for Niall’s trail. Niall’s guards, those who had dared to stand against the great Braden MacAlister, had all been killed, their bodies lying still upon the ground.

She swallowed the bile in her throat and lifted her skirts running towards the wagon and the other prisoners. Jean jerked at the lock, hoping to find it open. Unfortunately, the guards hadn’t been as stupid as she’d hoped.

“Damn,” she murmured and slammed her hand against the wood.

“Is there a problem?”

Jean whirled around at the deep voice to find one of Braden’s men, all meaty shoulders and barrel chest. “I cannot unlock the wagon.”

The man smiled, showing even white teeth and a twinkle in his dark brown gaze. “Allow me, lass.”

Jean stepped aside. As soon as she was out of the way, the man slammed the hilt of his sword against the lock. It busted open spectacularly and the chain fell away.

Braden’s man opened the door for the captives, but no one moved. They were petrified with fear. Jean stood beside the Highlander and smiled, calling into the wagon to the terrified women and children.

“It’s all right,” she told them and she held out her hand. “You can come out now.”

In moments, she was surrounded by the rest of Braden’s men, helping her encourage the rest of the women and children out of the wagon. Jean found water skins and hurried to pass those around.

One warrior moved to her side. “Why did MacDougall take all of you?”

“To ensure that my clansmen did as he wanted.”

“Foul bastard,” the man said with a curl of his lip. “What clan, lass?”

“MacKay. I’m Jean MacKay.”

“Well, Jean, lass,” he said with a friendly smile. “I’m Keith MacAlister, at your service. I’m thinking Braden will want to escort you and the others back to your clan.”

Jean let out a sigh of relief, but before she could thank him, a shout drew their attention. She followed Keith to a circle of men who gathered around one of their fallen brothers on the ground. It took only one look at the gaping wound for Jean to nudge the men aside and decide on a course of action.

“Let me tend him,” she said as she knelt beside the warrior. The cut on his leg went clean to the bone. Jean licked her lips and glanced over her shoulder at Keith. “I’m going to need water and bandages. And needle and thread.”

Keith let out a deep breath, his eyes troubled. “We have no needle and thread here.”

“The wound is too deep. I must stop the bleeding.”

“Bind Colin’s leg for now,” said a deep voice to her right. “We must get moving.”

Jean jerked her head around to find Braden watching her. Something was stuffed in her hand. Jean had no choice but to turn her attention back to the wounded man. With Keith’s help she was able to bind the wound as tightly as she could. It would staunch the blood, but not for long.

She rose as the others lifted Colin into the wagon. Jean looked at the women and children gathered in a tight circle, then to Braden. Someone needed to go along to tend Colin’s wound and she knew she could help.

Jean squared her shoulders and walked to Braden. He paused in his conversation with Keith and another man when he caught sight of her.

She waited until the other two warriors walked away before she spoke to Braden.

“I can help Colin. He’s going to need to be stitched.”

One side of Braden’s lips tilted in a small smile. “We’ve learned to mend each other’s wounds.”

“I’ve no doubt, but Colin’s wound is to the bone. A fever will most likely set in. You will need someone to watch him.”

“Why would you want to help?”

She understood his suspicion, even if she didn’t like it. “You and your men are trying to help all of us. You need every man you have for your continued attacks on Niall. You’ve already got Colin down and several others wounded. Would you leave yet another fighter behind to watch Colin?”

For long, heart-racing moments Braden stared at her, his striking blue eyes made only brighter by the paint still visible on his face. “If, for even a moment, I think you are spying on us …”

“I‘m not,” she said before he could finish. “I only want to help.”

“So be it, Jean MacKay.”

Two

Jean wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Her lower back ached from leaning over Colin’s prone form and wiping his fevered skin. The dwelling they were in was nothing more than tartans strung together around thick poles. A tent, but a roomy enough one.

She had no idea how long she had been in Braden’s camp. He’d covered her eyes to prevent her from seeing the direction they rode. She would never have told anyone where the camp was located, but he hadn’t believed her.

Not that she blamed him.

Jean leaned back and arched her spine, her hands at her lower back. She blew out a breath, concern knotting her stomach. Colin hadn’t improved since they had arrived.

She’d cleaned and stitched his wound, but the fever had set in much too quickly for her liking. All she could do now was pray he was strong enough to overcome the fever.

“You need to rest.”

Jean whirled around at the sound of the voice. She licked her lips and watched the tall, thickly-built Highlander move into the tent and stand beside her.

Keith and Braden were rarely separated – it was obvious Keith was Braden’s right hand, the man Braden most depended on.

“You concern should be with your friend,” Jean said.

Keith grunted and placed his large hand on Colin’s forehead. “It is my concern for him that gives voice to the obvious. You are exhausted. You will do Colin no good if you collapse.”

“I would never.” Jean rose to her feet and clenched her hands. “I gave my word that I would look after him.”

The slow smile that pulled at Keith’s lips only increased her irritation. “You’ve got a temper. Good. It’ll keep Braden on his toes.”

Jean blinked, unsure she heard him correctly. “What did you say?”

“There’s food awaiting, lass. Get some before it’s gone. I’ll stay with Colin for a wee bit.”

Keith quickly occupied the stool beside the cot. Jean took a step back, stunned, before she turned and exited the tent. Once outside, she paused and surveyed the camp. She had known Braden had many followers, but she hadn’t realized just how many fought with him.

The number was staggering. The sheer quantity of tents that dotted that hilltop and surrounding valley left her in awe. It would only be a matter of time now before Niall MacDougall was gone forever.

Her stomach growled, and she wasted no time in getting food. She sighed as the last bite slid down her throat. The meal would fortify her. She hadn’t realized how weary she had been until that moment.

Jean rose and started back to Colin when she caught sight of a large dwelling near the centre of camp. As someone exited the tent, she spotted Braden within.

Before she knew it, she was standing before his tent. Jean hesitated only a moment before she lifted the tartan and ducked inside. She let the material fall silently closed behind her as her gaze roamed over the inside of the dwelling.

To the right were two chairs facing each other. Off to the back was the MacAlister tartan spread on the ground for Braden’s bed. To the right was a chest. In the middle of the tent was a table where a map was spread out with Braden leaning over it, absorbed in his thoughts.

Gone was the blue paint that had covered his upper body and face and made him appear wild and untamed. Braden now wore a saffron shirt with his kilt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing thick black hair on his forearms.

He appeared as any other Highlander, but Jean knew differently. She had seen the warrior he could become, had seen his unquenchable need for vengeance, both for himself and for his people.

She would keep the image of him jumping from the boulder to save her forever in her memory. She had been prepared to die, but Braden hadn’t let her.

Suddenly, he lifted his head and looked at her.

Jean folded her hands and tried to calm the heart that now raced inside her chest. Being so near Braden affected her thoughts and her body in a way that had never happened to her before.

It wasn’t just the power he wielded. It was more than his determination to right the wrongs done to their people.

It was him – the bold, passionate, handsome man with the long, dark hair and the bright blue eyes – that stole her breath.

She wanted to be near him, not because he had rescued her, but because she wanted to know this man who risked everything for his clan.

“I was about to come see you and Colin. Is he well?”

His voice, smooth and deep, made her skin tingle with awareness. She found herself wondering what it would be like to be his woman, to know the warmth of his lips and his tender touch. To hold him, touch him.

Feel him.

“For the moment,” she answered. “A fever has set in.”

Braden’s jaw clenched as he glanced away. “Are there any herbs I can get for you? Anything that could help him?”

“Only time and prayers can help him right now. I’ve cleaned the wound, used herbs to speed the healing, and stitched him. There is nothing more.”

“Colin is a good man. I wouldna see him die.”

Jean gave a small nod of her head. “Then I will leave you to your duties and return to mine. Sorry to have disturbed you.”

She had turned and reached for the cloth to exit when his words halted her.

“Thank you.”

Jean looked back at Braden and lost herself in his blue eyes. There was something about him, something in the way he held himself, and spoke, and treated others, that made him a natural leader. He was young, but even the older, more experienced Highlanders followed him because they knew this young man was the answer to their prayers.

“It is I should thank you. You’ve taken a stand against Niall when others wouldn’t dare.”

Braden had known Jean would disrupt his life the moment he had set eyes on her. She was beautiful, headstrong, and unyielding.

She was exactly the type of woman he would want for himself. If he had time for a woman.

Her long light-brown hair was thick and straight, held away from her oval face in a braid that fell over her shoulder and came to rest beside her breast. She had skin the colour of cream and it was unblemished except for a small mole on the right side of her wide, full lips. Dark brows curved gently over large, expressive tawny eyes. Though she was of average height, she had the bountiful curves he had coveted at first sight. There was no doubt Jean MacKay had snatched his attention from the instant he saw her.

She was a distraction he could ill afford. But one he couldn’t do without.

In two strides, Braden was before her. He let the pads of his fingers stroke the barest of touches down her smooth cheek before he dropped his hand.

How long had it been since he’d held a woman? Since he had felt warm flesh, touched silky skin, or kissed soft lips? How long had it been since he’d sunk between a woman’s thighs into her hot, wet heat?

The aching need clawing his belly for Jean was enough to warn him to steer clear of the beauty. Though his mind told him to leave, his body – and his heart – urged him to stay.

He was powerless to do anything but. Jean was like a bright ray of light in his dark, dreary world of death and vengeance.

The hope he saw in her tawny eyes restored the fire inside him. He burned not just for a victory over Niall, but he burned for her.

His hands itched to pull her against him. He wanted her body pressed tightly to his own. The need was so strong, so potent, that Braden found himself leaning towards her.

He bit back a groan when he saw her eyes widen and her lips part. God help him but he was going to get his first taste of the stunning Jean MacKay.

Their bodies were just breaths apart. The pulse at her neck was erratic and rapid, as if she too longed for the kiss. That knowledge made Braden’s hunger swell and intensify.

Her hand brushed his as she leaned towards him. Braden slid his fingers between hers until their hands were clasped. He could feel the heat of her skin, hear the breath pass through her lips.

Her gaze was fastened on his mouth, and it was all Braden could do not to crush her against him. The ache in his cock and the yearning, the longing, was too much to bear.

He would have his kiss.

He would have Jean.

“Braden!”

He bit back a curse. Jean turned away from him as Rory entered the tent. Braden glared at his friend.

Rory looked from Braden to Jean and back again before he sent Braden an apologetic grimace.

“What is it?” Braden asked.

“The women and children of clan MacKay are once more with their families. They want to know when Jean will be returned.”

“When I know Colin will survive,” she answered before Braden could.

Braden looked at her before turning back to Rory. “Thank you for seeing them to their clan. You did tell them Jean was safe?”

“Aye,” Rory said with a firm nod of his red head. “Her father, Laird MacKay, wasna pleased to hear she is here.”

Braden felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. How many times had he spoken with Laird MacKay? How many times had he been to their clan, sat inside the castle? But not once had he ever known the laird to have a daughter.

He could only assume the laird had made sure Jean was nowhere near when Braden visited.

Braden turned to Jean. “You’re Laird MacKay’s daughter?”

She gave a small shrug and crossed her arms over her chest. “My father raised me to follow my heart and make the right choices. He knows I’m here because I want to be.”

“Aye,” Rory said. “The old laird said much the same thing. He did give me a warning to pass to ye, Braden.”

Braden sighed, knowing what was coming. “What might that be?”

“He said that if one hair on her head is harmed, he’ll be coming for you.”

MacKay was one man Braden wanted kept as a supporter. He did not need him as an adversary. But Braden’s hunger for Jean was going to be difficult to control.

As if knowing his thoughts were on her, Jean said, “I need to return to Colin.”

Braden watched the sway of her hips as she walked from his tent. His blood was on fire as need rode him hard, begged him to take the woman into his arms.

“I’m no’ sure you should be dallying with MacKay’s daughter,” Rory said.

Braden faced his friend. “Aye. The lass isna for me.”

“Good. Now, do you want the news on Niall?”

Three

Jean couldn’t stop herself from touching the spot on her cheek that Braden’s fingers had brushed. The contact had been so fleeting, so soft, that it was almost as if it hadn’t happened.

But she had felt the stroke of his fingers, had felt the heat of his skin.

It had left her shaken, dazed. His bright blue eyes had darkened with desire, and the not-so-firm grip Jean had on her control had vanished.

All she had wanted was Braden’s kiss. She had yearned to know the taste of him, to feel the width and breath of his shoulders beneath her hands.

Jean exhaled loudly and walked into the tent to see Keith still sitting beside Colin.

“Lass, are you all right?” Keith asked, a frown marring his tanned face.

Jean nodded. She feared she wouldn’t be able to speak, so she didn’t even try.

“Nothing has changed. I had hoped he would shake off the fever by now.”

Jean put her hand on Keith’s shoulder and squeezed. “One never knows with a fever. Colin is strong. He will be able to rid himself of the infection.”

“I pray you’re correct,” Keith said as he rose to his feet. He looked at her a moment with shrewd, knowing eyes. “You’ve seen Braden.”

“Aye. He was curious as to Colin’s recovery.”

Keith grunted in response. “I’ll be near. Just let me know if you need anything.”

Jean resumed her seat next to Colin and wrung out the cloth to dab along his heated skin. She had a feeling it was going to be a very long night.

Braden rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He’d been poring over the maps with Keith and Rory, hoping to discern where Niall had disappeared.

“We almost had him,” Rory said.

Braden slammed his hand on the table. “Almost isna good enough. He’s gone.”

“We’ll find him,” Keith stated in his usual calm voice. “There aren’t many places he could have gone.”

Braden began to chuckle. He realized there was only one place Niall could be. “He’s at MacAlister Castle.”

“We have spies there,” Rory said. “They would have seen him.”

Braden’s frustration grew with each day that passed that Niall still lived, so he understood the irritation that filled Rory’s words. “He went through unseen just as he did when he came into my home before and murdered my father, my uncle and my sister.”

“He’s not human,” Keith muttered.

Braden had long believed that Niall had sold his soul to the devil. He hated even admitting the bastard was related to him, but there was no denying Niall was his cousin.

Few knew that small detail, but the ones who did understood why Braden was so determined to stop the bastard.

“You know the castle better than anyone, Braden,” Keith said. “I’ve told you before, we can get inside and take him. Your people are still loyal to you.”

Braden’s mind raced with possibilities. “It may come to taking the castle. We’ll need more men.”

“MacKay said you could count on him. There are other lairds who would join you as well,” Rory said.

Braden looked from Rory to Keith before he nodded. “Get everyone to send some men. We’re going to need all the Highlanders we can get.”

He turned on his heel and started towards the entrance when Keith’s voice stopped him.

“Where are you going? Doona you want to begin to plan?”

Braden couldn’t think of anything but tawny eyes and full, ripe lips begging to be kissed. “I need to check on Colin. I’ll return shortly.”

As he exited Braden could have sworn he heard Keith snort. He didn’t care that Keith knew the real reason that he wanted to check on Colin was to see Jean.

Braden cared about his men. All of them. They risked their lives every time they went into battle against Niall. But, this time, it wasn’t Colin that kept intruding on his thoughts.

He ducked inside Colin’s tent to see Jean slumped over, her head on her arms as she slept. Braden watched her for a moment, content to take in the sight of her at his leisure.

There had been many women who had caught his eye, but none had made him burn as Jean did. What was it about her? She was head-turning with her midnight locks, ochre eyes, and body made for sin. But it was the fire inside her, so like the untamed spirit he himself possessed, that called to him.

Braden had kept himself detached from anyone other than his men for fear that Niall might use them against him. Braden was already testing fate merely by keeping Jean in his camp. If Niall ever discovered how much Braden wanted Jean, her life would be over.

Despite the warnings in his mind, Braden couldn’t keep away from her. He crossed the distance between them on silent feet.

An onyx lock had come free of her braid and fell over her cheek. Braden lifted the shiny strand, amazed at its cool, soft texture. He held it a moment longer before he tucked it behind her ear.

He had to fist his hand to keep from touching her, and turned on his heel. He grabbed a blanket and spread it on the ground at the back of the tent. Then he slowly, carefully lifted Jean in his arms and laid her on the blanket.

He had lowered her to the tartan, but he was not yet ready to release her. She exhaled softly and turned on to her side away from him. Braden couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips.

Nor could he halt the overwhelming temptation to reach for her.

He caressed her cheek down to her jaw with the back of his fingers. No skin had ever felt so smooth, ever looked so velvety.

A long, ragged breath left his body. He ached to touch more of her. He yearned to know every enchanting inch of her body. To drown in her heat, succumb to her charms. Surrender to the driving need to have her.

Braden rose, his control slipping through his fingers with every moment. He sat on the stool Jean had been sitting on as she tended to Colin.

He didn’t know how long he sat wiping Colin’s fevered brow before Keith came in. His friend furrowed his brow as he saw Braden.

“What are you doing here?”

“Allowing her to rest,” Braden answered. He motioned to Jean on the blanket.

Keith grumbled as he saw Jean there. “You should have called me.”

“I’ve been thinking about gaining access to the castle.”

“Aye, I knew you would be.”

Braden licked his lips and dropped the cloth in the bowl of water. MacAlister castle had been his home from the moment he was brought into the world. He knew every crack and crevice there was. The problem was – so did Niall.

“If we’re going to succeed, there is only one way to get inside.”

Keith’s hazel eyes narrowed. “The secret passages?”

“Nay. Niall knows of them.”

“Through the postern door of the castle wall?”

Braden shook his head. “Niall will keep that well guarded.”

“I’m no’ going to like your idea am I?” Keith asked as he crossed his arms over his barrel chest and flattened his lips.

“Nay, you aren’t. We are going to walk through the gates.”

Keith’s mouth gaped open as his arms fell limply to his sides. “Did you get hit in the head during the battle, Braden? It’s the only thing I can think of as to why you would come up with such a daft plan.”

“I’ve no’ been hit,” Braden said as he tried to hide his smile. “If you listen to my plan, you’ll see how it’ll work.”

“What I see is that you’ll be taken. Everyone at the castle knows your face.”

Braden lifted a shoulder as he shrugged. “No. By the time I get done they willna.”

“You know I’d follow you into Hell itself.”

“Unfortunately, my friend, that’s exactly where we’ll be heading.”

Keith nodded. “When do you want to execute this plan of yours?”

“I’d prefer to go tonight, but I need to wait and hear from the lairds to see how many men we can count on.”

“What do you need me to do?”

Braden grinned. “Care to visit the village?”

Jean rolled onto her back and stretched. There was a crick in her neck that was going to bother her for days. She frowned and tried to think what could have caused it. Then, she remembered.

Colin.

Her eyes flew open. The sound of muffled voices drifted to her. She concentrated, trying to determine each word. She could hear Braden’s voice, his timbre comforting her in ways she wasn’t ready to understand. He was speaking of plans to invade MacAlister castle.

And then Braden walked into the tent towards her. Jean sat up, her gaze clashing with his own.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked.

“Not long enough.”

Jean climbed to her feet and moved to Colin. She put her hand on his forehead and blinked. “When did his fever break?”

“A few hours ago,” Braden said. “I didna wish to wake you.”

She didn’t remember falling asleep, much less lying down. Jean was glad that Colin’s fever had broken, but that meant there was no need for her in the camp now. Braden would send her home.

Unless she could find a reason to stay.

“I canna thank you enough for tending to Colin,” Braden said. He rubbed his hand along his whiskered jaw and looked away. “I suppose I need to send you back to your father.”

“I’d rather stay.”

The words were out of Jean’s mouth before she could be ashamed at what she was saying.

“Every moment you stay here puts your life in danger.”

“It doesn’t matter where I am. If Niall wishes to do me harm, he will.”

“Your father can protect you.”

Jean took a deep breath and folded her hands at her waist. “Niall used a ruse to draw my father and his best men from our keep – he slaughtered dozens of our sheep and left the tartan of our neighbour as blame. Once my father and his men had left to question the neighbour, Niall attacked. The men left on guard were powerless when Niall to threatened to kill a child in order to get inside the keep.”

Braden cursed and put his hands on his hips. He shook his head.

“Whatever you are planning to do to Niall, I want to help. I’m not a warrior and I have little skill with a blade, but there are other things I can do. I can tend to wounds, cook meals, or anything else you would ask of me.”

Braden stared at her for several long moments. “Why? Why would you risk your life?”

“Why would you risk yours? This is my land as well. He has come to my clan, harmed my people. Let me help.”

“I shouldna allow it.”

Jean smiled and silently rejoiced. “But you will.”

“If anything happens to you, your father will never forgive me.”

“Nothing will happen to me,” she promised.

Four

Braden knew he was a fool. He told himself he could keep Jean safer than her father could, but he knew it for the lie it was. He just couldn’t let her go.

He’d been wracking his mind for a reason to keep her in his camp. Braden had never expected Jean to come up with a solution herself. But that’s what she’d done.

“I’ve already received a missive from your father,” Braden said. “He is gathering his men and riding to the camp on the morrow.”

“Did you doubt he would aid you?” Jean asked.

“Nay. He’s an honourable man. He told me I could count on him.”

“Will you tell me the plan?”

Braden hesitated, not because he didn’t trust her, but because it was imperative all were surprised.

Before he could answer, Colin groaned. Braden and Jean bent over him. Colin’s eyes cracked open as he swallowed several times.

“Braden?”

“Easy, my friend.” Braden said. “You’ve been very ill.”

Jean held a cup in front of Colin. “You need to drink.”

Braden helped Colin to lift his head as Jean slowly tilted the cup to his lips. Once Colin had drunk his full Braden lowered his head.

“Are you in pain?” Jean asked him.

Colin’s lips were pinched, but he shook his fair head. “Nothing I canna handle.”

“We all know how brave you are,” Braden said. “But if Jean can give you something to help, allow her to do it. I’m going to need you.”

Colin grinned as Braden knew he would. Braden then lifted his gaze to Jean and gave her a small nod before he walked out of the tent.

He paused once outside and looked around his camp. Several years ago it had been just him, Keith, and a handful of the men that left the castle with him. He hadn’t known quite what to do when other men began showing up at his camp wanting to fight alongside him.

After Niall’s betrayal, Braden hadn’t known who to trust. Yet, in the end, he had to accept anyone willing to fight against his traitorous cousin.

As Niall’s power grew across the land, so did Braden’s army. Niall, though, was always one step ahead. Always just out of reach.

Braden walked mindlessly around the camp. Their homes didn’t do much to keep them warm in the harsh Highland winters, but the men had always made do.

It was after a few women and children, made homeless by Niall’s rampage, came to Braden looking for shelter that he knew more drastic measures had to be taken. His camp was one of men ready and waiting for battle. It wasn’t fit for any other inhabitants.

He had found places for those in need with other clans – clans large enough and powerful enough to keep these women and children hidden and safe. But that couldn’t last forever.

Braden scrubbed a hand down his face. His latest plan could well get him killed. He should already be dead. How he survived the night his father, uncle and sister died was a mystery to him.

He had been late returning to the castle after a night carousing with some friends. Braden never expected to walk into the castle to such silence.

Or to find his younger sister on the stairs with blood staining the front of her gown from a wound to her chest, and her blue eyes open and empty.

It hadn’t taken Braden long to discover his father and uncle as well. Rage unlike anything he had ever experienced filled him.

He had his sword drawn and ready to slay the murderer of his family when Keith had found him. Keith told him about Niall, how he had snuck into the castle, and how he was now on the hunt for Braden.

It went against everything Braden believed in to leave the castle, but he had to live if he was to see his family avenged. Fate had spared him, and in doing so allowed Braden to be a thorn in Niall’s side.

A thorn that hadn’t done as much damage yet as it would have liked.

Braden let his eyes wander over the camp. Men were set in small groups near their tents, talking, planning. Others were on patrol. Still others were training on foot and horseback.

He had been destined to be laird of his people, to protect his lands and clan at all costs. Braden had never thought he would be fighting to regain his lands and protect all of Scotland.

It all rested on his shoulders now. Come what may, he would not – could not – fail.

Jean let Rory usher her out of Colin’s tent. She should still be tending him, but Rory had wanted some time alone with her patient.

She bit her lip as she walked among the many tents. Besides herself, she saw only three other women. Two were bent with age, their white hair pulled away from their faces. They sat together readying food for the next meal.

The other woman was older than Jean, but still young enough to catch the eyes of the men. Mary, her name was. Clearly, Mary was there for their enjoyment.

Jean wondered if the woman had visited Braden. Then she immediately questioned why she should even care.

She watched everyone finishing their morning meal. Her stomach rumbled, but there was more on her mind than food. She didn’t know how long she would be in Braden’s camp. Somehow she had convinced him to allow her to stay, but that could be cut short at any time.

Despite the danger she was in, she wanted to remain there. She wanted to help Braden in his fight to topple Niall.

Jean came to a halt as her gaze fell upon Braden. His saffron shirt was thrown over his shoulder and water dripped from the ends of his hair after a bath in the nearby stream.

His striking sapphire eyes held her transfixed. Riveted. Spellbound.

The camp fell away, leaving only the two of them. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest. Her blood heated and rushed though her body.

When he took a step to her, Jean’s stomach dropped to her feet.

Someone called Braden’s name, breaking the trance that had held them. He turned away from her. Was that regret she saw in his face? Jean squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to dwell on her disappointment.

She knew that whatever drew her and Braden together was special, a bond that couldn’t be ignored. If only they could have the time to explore it further.

It was just another reason for her to despise Niall. If he hadn’t come, there would be no need for Braden to lead an army.

And you might never have known him at all.

There was no getting around that fact. Jean took a deep breath and walked to the stream at the back of the camp to prepare for the day.

She had just knelt by the water’s edge and splashed the cold liquid on her face when she heard her name. Jean looked over her shoulder to see one of Braden’s men.

“Braden would like to see you.”

Jean nodded and stood. When she reached Braden’s tent, two more men stood outside. One leaned down and lifted the flap for her to enter.

She ducked inside. Braden stood facing her, his hands behind his back. “You wished to see me?”

“You offered your services to help,” Braden said.

“I did.”

Braden glanced at Keith. “How are you with a needle?”

Jean blinked. She had imagined being asked many different things in order to help Braden but sewing hadn’t been one of them. “You wish me to sew?”

“I do. I need cloaks and other garments made as quickly as you can. You will have help. Doona worry about the quality. The items need to appear poorly done.”

Jean took the material dumped into her arms by Keith and looked at the coarse material. “I gather you willna be wearing your kilts.”

“The less you know the better, lass,” Keith said softly.

Jean raised her gaze to Braden, but he was bent over documents, his hands braced on the table. “How many cloaks and garments do I need to make?”

“As many as you can by nightfall,” Keith answered.

“Nightfall?” she repeated, not hiding her shock.

“Whatever you can do will be enough.”

Jean nodded and left the tent. If she was going to be of any help, she needed to get busy.

Braden let out a breath once Jean was gone. He knew she wanted to know the details of his strategy. And he wanted to tell her.

Yet he couldn’t.

Somehow, Niall had learned of Braden’s plan yesterday. This could only mean there was a spy in the camp. Braden had no way of knowing who it could be. His remedy was to confide only in those that he trusted completely – Rory and Keith.

The others would only know what they were to do, not how it all connected. Unfortunately, Jean also had to be kept in the dark.

Braden knew in his gut he could trust her. He had seen the fear in her eyes when she was Niall’s captive. That kind of terror couldn’t be faked.

Even her father, and the other lairds coming to aid Braden, wouldn’t be told everything. Braden would send them to the location where they would wait for his signal to attack. They wouldn’t know anything about Braden infiltrating the castle or anything about his intentions for Niall.

This was Braden’s last chance to end Niall’s evil reign. If he couldn’t, if he failed …

He didn’t even want to think along those lines. Too many lives were at stake, too much at risk. He had to win tomorrow. For his father, his sister, his uncle and the other innocents that had got in Niall’s way for his bid for power.

Braden wanted Niall dead, but he knew that to get the justice everyone needed, the murdering tyrant had to be brought before the king – along with the “trophies” he liked to collect from his victims.

Niall’s strange behaviour had been well known throughout the family. But no one had thought he would switch his cruelty from animals to people.

“Jean is a curious one,” Keith said, breaking into Braden’s thoughts. “She will want to know why she is garbing us in such clothing.”

Braden exhaled long and slow. “Doona worry. I will tell her nothing.”

“You may not have to. She’s a smart one, she is. She is likely to figure it all out.”

Braden hadn’t considered that. “Even if she does, it makes no difference. She willna be with us.”

Keith crossed his arms over his chest and grimaced. “I’ve followed you wherever you’ve led me, Braden, but I want you to know this plan of yours is daft.”

“And likely to get us all killed. Aye, my friend, I ken.”

Keith left the tent to carry out his orders. Braden returned his attention the map of the castle and the surrounding area. He knew the land better than anyone. There were places where those loyal to him could gain a great advantage, and places where he knew he could ambush Niall’s men.

So many things had to go right for the plan to work. The most important was getting into the castle.

When he finally raised his head it was to see two trenchers on the table in front of him. One of cheese, bread and cold meat from the noon meal, and the second still steaming with haggis.

Braden’s stomach demanded food. He sat and devoured both trenchers before reaching for the bottle of ale. He needed to stretch his legs and back, needed to see the faces of those who trusted him to defeat Niall.

He set aside the empty bottle of ale and rose to exit his tent. The sun was all but set in the horizon, casting vivid pinks and purples over half the sky, while the blanket of night was pulled over the other half.

Several fires dotted the camp, casting faces in orange glows. Many sharpened their swords and dirks as they spoke in low tones. Others checked their horses.

The night before a battle was one of quiet conversations as each man prepared for what could be the last hours of his life.

Braden made a loop of the camp, stopping to speak to his men along the way. He wanted to find Jean. He might not be able to hold her or kiss her as his own, but he could watch over her.

His gaze sought out her dark locks and beautiful figure. When he found her folding one of her newly sewn cloaks, an unusual calm settled over him. Her mere presence in his camp had given him the tranquillity he had sought since he had lost everything to Niall.

It wasn’t just her beauty, but her strength that drew him.

She set the cloak atop a pile of others and straightened. Her eyes lifted to the sky, and then she turned her head to him.

Braden knew he should walk away, knew he needed to leave her. But he couldn’t. He wanted Jean with a need that both alarmed him and gave him courage.

He strode to her, ignoring those who called his name. He didn’t stop until he stood in front of her. No words were spoken as their eyes sought each other.

Desire, hot and powerful, pulsed between them. It was too intense to ignore, too potent to withstand. And too vibrant to walk away from.

His fingers slid over her arm to her hand before he led her to his tent.

Five

Jean willingly followed Braden to his tent. Once inside, he halted and turned to her. He reached for her arms and pulled her towards him.

She lost herself in the longing, the hunger she saw in his smouldering blue eyes.

Her hands rose and settled on his abdomen. She could feel the ripple of muscle beneath her hand through his saffron shirt. They were so close the heat from his body wrapped around her, cocooning her.

Beckoning her.

He shifted closer so their bodies touched, melded. Jean moved her hands up Braden’s chest to his shoulders until her fingers threaded with the cool strands of his brown hair.

Braden lowered his head, his gaze dropping to her mouth. Jean’s breath locked inside her. Her stomach fluttered as she eagerly awaited his kiss.

The first brush of his lips stole her breath.

She melted against him as his kiss became more insistent. A moan, deep and hungry, rose from Braden when she returned the kiss.

His tongue licked her lips before sweeping between them and teasing her own tongue. He plundered her lips, besieged her mind.

Jean’s fingers dug into his shoulders as she fought to keep her legs beneath her. His mouth slanted over hers, kissing her deeply. And thoroughly.

Passion flared hot and true inside her, filling her veins, and settled in the pit of her stomach. Each stroke of his tongue wound her desire tighter, heavier.

Braden kissed Jean with all the passion, all the longing he possessed. It began as a gentle kiss, one to coax and entice. But a single taste of her and he forgot everything but raw, unabashed hunger.

It was a kiss to lay his claim.

His arms tightened about her, bringing her closer, locking her shapely body firmly along his length. He felt her soft touch as her fingers plunged into his hair.

Braden’s mind told him to be cautious, to not allow himself to be pulled under by the overwhelming need for her. But the temptation was too great.

He fell headlong into the desire. He plunged in and forgot all reason.

Nothing mattered but Jean. And the flare of pleasure that pounded in his veins.

Braden tasted her unleashed passion and craved more. He wanted all of her, everything she had to offer.

Another satisfied moan tore from him as Jean pressed against him, as if she too sought to get closer. Whatever control Braden had thought to hold on to vanished in that moment.

She was his.

With one arm holding her, he reached between them and cupped her breast. Her fingers tightened at his neck, a heartbeat before she arched into his hand.

Jean forgot to breathe as Braden’s hand seduced her with every caress, every stroke. Her breasts swelled and ached, her nipples hardened seeking more of his touch.

Braden’s tongue trust against hers as his fingers found her sensitive peak through her gown and teased her.

Passion grew, tightened within her. She knew there was no turning away from such wondrous desire. Turning away never even entered her mind.

She wanted to touch his skin, to feel the heat of his flesh against her. As soon as she tugged on his shirt, Braden reached for her skirts.

The kiss ended as, one by one, items of clothing were removed hastily. Desire escalated with the removal of each garment. Until they stood naked together.

Jean sucked in a ragged, broken breath as Braden dragged her against him. His body was hot and so very hard. She had little time to look her fill before Braden claimed her mouth once more. His hands were urgent, needy, as they roamed.

She sighed into his kiss and let her hands travel over the muscled expanse of his chest at her leisure, learning him – until Braden’s lips travelled down her neck and his mouth closed over her nipple. She cried out, seeking more, wanting more. Always more.

They tumbled to the ground, skin to skin. Their limbs tangled as their hands learned and discovered. Seeking, seizing. Urgent and commanding. With each touch, each sigh, the desire that bound them grew tighter, stronger. Undeniable.

Jean moaned when he moved on top her, nudging her legs apart with his knees. She arched her back, his name upon her lips, when his fingers found her and stroked between her thighs.

Her body burned with need and pleasure that mixed and balled in her stomach. She lifted her hips, seeking more of the heady bliss. Her desire spiked and coalesced as he teased her body until she was mindless with need.

She tugged at him, needing him on her so she could feel his weight. She wanted to be closer to him.

Braden lay over her, his thighs set between hers. He held still for one heartbeat, two … and he stared down at her. His bright blue gaze held her mesmerized with his dark intensity.

Then he kissed her. Their lips locked, tongue meeting tongue. He set his hips, and with one powerful thrust, slid inside her. Jean stilled as the shaft of pain sliced through her. It ate away at the pleasure, threatened to consume her. All the while Braden kissed her. Hot and urgent. Needy. Hungrily. He withdrew and plunged again. Deeper. Harder.

Her entire being centred on Braden and the desire that wound tighter and tighter, higher and higher within her. They burned, the pleasure burning them in a tide neither could restrain.

Braden didn’t try to deny the longing in his heart, didn’t try to reject the all-consuming impulse to take Jean and be damned of the consequences.

No amount of rationalizing had been able to turn him away from the hunger for Jean that clawed at him. It was a craving sunk deep, all the way to his soul.

He rejoiced as he pinned her beneath him, her lush curves cushioning him. Every moan and cry of pleasure that fell from her lips pushed him to take her higher.

She shifted, her legs rising to wrap around his waist. He sank deeper into her, her hot sheath holding him tight.

Jean rocked beneath him as he plunged faster, harder. Their ragged breaths filled the tent as sweat beaded their skin. Her body began to tense as her eyes grew heavy.

Braden felt the tension in her rise. Her fingers gripped his arms, her nails digging into his skin. She was close, so very close.

He needed to see her climax, to see her surrender to the desire that had taken both of them. It pushed him, roared in his blood. Demanded that she succumb.

She gave a soft cry as she shattered.

Braden gloried in the joy etched over her face and his name on her lips. Still convulsing around him, Braden couldn’t hold back his own orgasm. He thrust once, twice and then gave into the pleasure with a roar.

The climax was intense, heady as it swept him along. He had never felt anything so primitive, so mind-melting. He collapsed on top of her. Her arms encircled him, holding him in an embrace of contentment, of peace.

After a moment, he used his elbows to lift himself a little so he could look down at her. She smiled and smoothed a lock of hair that fell over his forehead.

He cupped the side of her head with each hand and lost himself in her amber eyes. “I fear I willna ever let you go now.”

“Good. I’m right where I want to be.”

Her words made his chest constrict. For the first time in two years he wanted to think about his future. With Jean by his side.

“You are mine now,” he vowed, just before his lips descended upon hers.

Six

Jean wrapped her arms around herself as she stood outside Braden’s tent and watched everyone readying for the coming battle.

Sometime during the night a horse and small cart had been brought to the camp. Braden, Keith, Rory and Colin all stood around it, deep in conversation.

Braden suddenly lifted his head. Their gazes collided. They had spent the few remaining hours of the night talking and making love.

She feared for Braden and his plan. He had told her very little, but it hadn’t taken her long to deduce he feared there was a spy in his camp. The only one who knew the entire plan was Braden. Everyone else just knew their parts.

Jean watched as Mary settled one of the cloaks around her shoulders. Jean had told Braden she wanted to help, but he had refused, telling her in no uncertain terms that she was to stay in the camp.

She swallowed past the lump of dread that filled her throat. Mary said something to Keith before walking away with hurried steps. A fearful glance over her shoulder told Jean all she needed to know.

Jean didn’t hesitate as she lifted her skirts and moved between two tents so Braden wouldn’t see her. She found Mary standing behind one of the other tents, tears coursing down her face.

“I canna do it,” Mary said when she saw Jean. “I’m scared.”

Jean looked around to make sure no one was near. “Give me the cloak and gown.”

Mary blinked. “Milady?”

“Hurry,” Jean said as she began to pull off her own clothing.

She had little time to get the crude gown and cloak in place and return to the cart before Braden and the others grew suspicious.

Once the coarse brown gown was in place and the cloak around her shoulders, Jean lifted the hood over her head. “Take my gown and return to Braden’s tent,” she told Mary. “If they find you before everyone has left, they’ll bring you.”

Mary nodded and grabbed Jean’s gown before rushing away. Jean released a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She made her way to the cart.

“Did you get what you needed?” Keith asked.

Jean nodded her head.

“Good,” Braden said. “Let’s get going.”

Keith helped Jean into the cart as Braden lifted a panel in the floor and slipped inside to lay flat across the length of the cart. Colin covered Braden once he was stretched out on his back.

“I’m sorry you couldna find Jean to say farewell once more,” Colin said.

Braden grimaced. “Just make sure you doona tear the stitches of your wound lest she have your head.”

Colin laughed and settled his back against the seat where Jean was. “You’ve made yourself clear, Braden. No fighting for me. I’m just here to make sure this ruse works.”

Jean shuddered, a shadow of foreboding racing down her spine.

Keith climbed up next to her and slapped the reigns for the horse to go. “Doona worry, Mary. Just remember. Once we reach the castle, stay out of the way.”

“I still say we shouldna bring her,” Colin said.

“It’s part of the ruse,” Braden’s voice said from below the floor of the cart. “Niall willna believe two men, one wounded, and the other with a woman, will attempt to breech his walls for an attack.”

Keith snorted. “Proves what a fool he is.”

Jean kept her face forward. They were still close enough to the camp that they could stop and send her back. Not only did she want to help Braden, but she wouldn’t allow Mary to put everyone’s life in danger because she was scared.

“You haven’t said much,” Keith whispered as he leaned towards her.

Jean shrugged her shoulders.

“I ken you’re scared, lass, but you will be safe. Braden, and the rest of us, have sworn to it.”

Jean covered her mouth with her hand and coughed. “I know,” she squeaked out.

There was a moment of silence where she could feel Keith’s gaze. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he would hear it.

Strong fingers grabbed her chin and forced her head around. Jean put her finger to her lips and shook her head in the hope Keith would keep silent.

“Shite,” he murmured as he dropped his arm. “Braden is going to skin me alive.”

Jean scooted closer so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Nay. Mary couldn’t do it, and I wouldn’t have her endangering any of you.”

“Braden was clear,” Keith grumbled. “You werena to be involved.”

“He need never know. As soon as we’re inside the castle gates I will hide.”

A muscle in Keith’s jaw ticked. “This isna a good idea.”

“It’s the only way.”

Jean met Keith’s challenging gaze until he let out a long breath and scrunched his face.

She sat back, relieved that she had won. It would be well after midday before they reached MacAlister Castle, and the further away from the camp they travelled, the more Jean couldn’t shake her uneasy feeling.

For better or worse she was now part of Braden’s attack.

Another bead of sweat travelled down Braden’s brow and into his hair. He didn’t especially like small spaces, and being confined below the cart’s floor left little room to manoeuvre.

Or to breathe.

Braden couldn’t even lift his arm to wipe the sweat that dripped into his eyes. He blinked rapidly to stop the stinging, but it did no good.

For all his discomfort, he wouldn’t complain if his plan worked. If Niall was stopped then a few hours of suffering would be well worth it.

He bit back a grunt as one of the cart’s wheel fell into a deep rut, jarring him. His mind needed to be on the upcoming battle, but all he could think about was Jean.

And their night together.

It had been … soul-stirring. Moving. Exciting. Glorious.

The dawn had come all too soon. It had taken everything Braden had to leave her behind. At least at the camp she would be safe from Niall and any danger.

“Not much longer,” Colin said to him as he leaned towards the cart floor.

Braden didn’t bother to answer. There had been little to no conversation since their departure from the camp. It was just as well though.

He inhaled deeply and focused his mind on his plan. Everything hinged on whether they got through the castle gates. From there, once Braden was out of the cart and inside the castle, Colin would send the signal for the other men.

Braden smiled, expectation and exhilaration taking hold of him. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword at his side. He itched to feel the familiar weight of the blade as it sliced through the air, as it embedded in Niall’s body.

He closed his eyes, his elaborate plan floating through his mind. His father would tell him he was overreaching, and he would be correct. His father had always been right.

But in this instance, Braden had no choice.

He’d been fighting Niall for two years. Two long, brutal years of innocent deaths and violence that never stopped.

Now he had Jean. She’d already been in Niall’s hands once. Braden knew she wouldn’t survive a second time. If somehow Braden failed and Niall discovered what Jean meant to him … Braden couldn’t even finish the thought.

The cart began to slow, and then stopped when someone shouted for them to halt.

Braden held his breath.

“State your business,” a loud voice demanded.

Braden paid no attention to Keith’s explanation as more guards came around the back of the cart and began to question Colin.

There was a grunt as one of the guards grabbed Colin’s wounded leg and tore at the bindings to ensure that Colin was indeed injured.

A few words later and Keith clucked to the horse.

Braden closed his eyes and sent up a prayer of thanks as they rolled beneath the large gatehouse and into the bailey of the castle.

He didn’t need to see to know there were two guards at each tower of the gatehouse and more patrolled the battlements atop the castle wall.

He didn’t need to see to know the blacksmith’s shop was behind him and to the right, that the chapel was two shops to the left of the blacksmith and connected to the castle, or that the stable was to his left.

He didn’t need to see to know there were exactly ten steps from the bailey up to the castle doors.

Because he had counted those steps every day of his life since he could walk.

This was his home, a home that had been stolen from him. A home that had once held happy memories, but was now filled with the ghosts of his father, uncle and sister.

The cart circled the bailey and came to rest next to the stable just as Braden had instructed. He waited until Keith, Mary and Colin were out of the cart and well away before he gave a hard shove against the wood at his side.

The board popped off at the bottom. Braden grasped the board and scooted from his hiding spot, hidden beside the stable wall, before he dropped to the ground.

Carefully, silently, he replaced the board. After a look around to make sure no one was watching, he slipped into the stable.

As he was in the MacAlister plaid, no one paid him any heed. His people still wore their clan tartan with pride. But it was his face he worried about. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head so that his face was in shadow.

Braden glanced at his favorite horse who nickered when he neared. As much as Braden wanted to stop and stroke the sleek grey coat, he couldn’t.

He exited the back of the stable and turned to the left to walk behind the buildings to the chapel. As he neared the chapel, his heart quickened.

Already he had progressed farther into his plot than he had expected he would. Even if Niall somehow caught him, the other clans would come. They would surround the castle. And a battle that would be spoken about for centuries would ensue.

Niall’s reign would come to an end no matter what.

Braden peered around the chapel to see Colin standing at the gate talking to the guards. It was the sign that his other men should begin to infiltrate the castle.

As much as Braden wanted to kill Niall, he couldn’t. Niall needed to be brought before the king and tried for his unspeakable crimes. The king would decide what sort of death Niall deserved.

Braden pushed against the stone that unlocked the door to the back of the chapel. There a soft thud before the wooden door opened a crack.

He urged the door open just enough so that he could slip inside. Braden pulled the door closed behind him before ducking into the shadows.

Despite his need to move, he stayed still for a moment. He had to be prudent.

When he was sure that no one else was in the chapel, Braden hurried behind the altar in a crouch. His fingers gripped at the wooden floorboards at the base of the altar and he worked on lifting them. For a moment nothing happened, and then the boards gave way.

Braden glanced at the single section of five boards in his hands. They fit so snugly together that no one had ever seen the seam and realized it was a trap door.

He set the boards aside and sat on the outside of the hole so that his legs dangled into the darkness beneath him. No light was needed. Though Braden had never had to use this tunnel from the chapel before, his father had made him travel all the underground tunnels so often that Braden knew them as well as he knew the castle.

He jumped into the tunnel and landed with his knees bent. After a moment, he straightened, reached for the boards and settled them back into place over the tunnel entrance.

Then he started running. To the castle. To Niall and the end of all he had wrought.

Seven

Jean clutched her cloak so tightly her fingers began to ache. Keith had deposited her between two shops while he and Colin played their parts.

She saw Colin talking to the guards at the gate. Was this some sort of sign for the others? Jean was turning away when she spotted Braden. He walked with strong, purposeful steps on his way to the chapel. She wanted to go to him, to help him. To hold him.

But instead she held her ground.

It wouldn’t be long now before her father and the other clans surrounded the castle. She had promised Keith she would make her way out of the castle before the battle began. As much as she wanted to be around to aid them, she knew she would only be a hindrance.

Jean didn’t walk through the middle of the bailey. She kept close to the shops, mingling with the occupants. She was constantly on the lookout for Niall.

She was almost to the gate when someone rammed a shoulder into her, spinning her around. Jean was ready to bolt until she saw Keith’s ashen face.

He weaved on his feet, his breathing laboured. Jean saw the blood dripping from the fingers of his left hand.

“Keith?”

He tried to smile but only tilted towards her.

Jean quickly grabbed his hulking form and backed him into an alley between the shops. “Keith, what happened?”

“The guard I took down got lucky,” he rasped. “I didn’t get out of the way … in time.”

Jean lifted his cloak and grimaced when she saw the wound in his side. If she could tend to it he would live. “I need to get you out of here.”

“Nay,” he growled. “I’m to be inside the castle for Braden.”

“In this condition you would only get yourself and Braden killed.”

“Bind the wound,” he ordered, his eyes hard. “I willna let Braden down.”

Jean inwardly cursed as she lifted her gown and tore off a piece of her shift. She wound it around Keith. “This won’t be enough to stop the bleeding, but it should slow it.”

“It’ll have to do, lass.”

“Nay,” she said and grabbed his shoulder. “Tell me what needs to be done and I’ll do it.”

He shook his head sadly, as he struggled to keep upright. “You canna.”

“I can do it better than you can in your condition. Tell me, Keith.”

“Braden will kill me.”

“I won’t get caught.”

Keith’s gaze stabbed her. “You better no’.”

“Tell me. Then get to Colin.”

Jean listened to every word, memorizing every detail. She swallowed and looked at the dark grey stone of the castle.

“Can you do it?” Keith asked.

“Aye. For Braden I can.”

Keith’s meaty hand clamped on her shoulder. “Good luck, lass. You’re going to need it.”

Braden paused in the tunnel as he reached what could be the last door that stood between him and Niall. He withdrew his weapon and put an ear to the door, listening for any sounds.

Braden had taken the tunnel that lead to the master chamber. The chamber Niall had taken for himself, of course.

He slowly opened the hidden door and stepped into the room. One glance showed that Niall was nowhere to be found. The chamber however was in complete disarray.

Braden made his way silently into the corridor. Niall knew that one day Braden would come to try to take back his castle so Niall had guards set up everywhere.

It didn’t deter Braden, however.

He crept up behind the first guard and knocked him on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword, then dragged him into the nearest chamber. He tore the linens and bound and gagged the guard.

Braden didn’t tarry and moved down the hallway looking out for the next guard. There were a few of the guards that were more troublesome than the others but Braden wouldn’t be stopped. Not now. Not now that he was in his home.

Jean pushed open the castle doors and stepped inside the great hall. A few servants walked briskly to and from the kitchen. Three guards were locked in conversation.

So far no one had noticed her. And Jean wanted it kept that way.

She quietly shut the doors behind her. Head down, she made for the stairs. She was just steps away from reaching them when the hood of her cloak was ripped from her head.

“Well, well, well,” said a male voice laced with humour.

Jean spun around and jerked her shoulder to wrench the cloak from the man’s grasp.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“It’s none of your business.”

His gaze narrowed as he took a step towards her. “Everything that involves Lord Niall is my business.”

Jean’s blood ran cold as she stared into eyes black as pitch. This must be the commander of Niall’s guards. He had the look of a man accustomed to being having his every word followed.

A man you didn’t say no to.

She couldn’t fail before she had even begun. “Then you’ll have to tell Lord Niall why you have detained his … guest.”

The two guards behind the commander cackled with laughter. But the man before her merely looked her up and down. “You’re pretty enough, but not like the other women my lord prefers.”

Jean shrugged and tried to look as nonchalant as she could. “I’m just a woman. What do I know of the minds of men?”

The man smiled as he leered at her. “Maybe when Lord Niall is through with you I’ll have a sample.”

“Maybe. If Lord Niall is occupied, maybe we could take a little time to ourselves. I may not be Lord Niall’s usual type, but you are certainly mine.” Jean ended with a wink.

The man regarded her a moment, though she saw the interest that brightened his black eyes. “Call me Simon. Lord Niall would kill me if he knew.”

“I certainly wouldn’t tell him, Simon.”

The commander held out his arm for her before he looked back at the other two guards. “I’m going to escort Lord Niall’s guest into his chamber.”

Jean swallowed past the lump of anxiety that had wedged in her throat. Her fingers itched to grasp the pommel of the dagger Keith had slid into her palm. She needed to stay calm and focused.

It would take a perfect plunge with the dagger, and in just the right place, to kill Simon. Jean knew how to do neither. Keith would have simply killed him and taken the key.

She had to come up with another way to get into the room and get rid of the commander.

Jean allowed him to lead her into a small bedroom. He leaned against the door as he slid the bolt into place and smiled. She looked around the room to take in her surroundings. The bed loomed large to her left. It was made even more pronounced when the commander walked to it and held out his hand.

The key to Niall’s chamber was around his neck, hanging on the outside of his shirt and tunic. It was just a matter of getting to it.

“I hope you aren’t going to keep me waiting,” Simon said.

Jean grinned and gave her hips a pronounced sway as she walked to him. “I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing to a fine man like yourself.”

“Just what I wanted to hear.” He lifted his kilt and stroked his arousal. “Come. I want it inside you.”

Jean glanced at the small table beside the bed and spied a goblet and a small chest. Those were the only two things within her reach, besides her dagger, with which to inflict enough harm to knock Simon unconscious.

She put herself between him and the table. Her fingers deftly caught the goblet behind her and tucked it into the folds at the back of her cloak as she put her other hand on his chest.

“You want me badly, don’t you?” she asked.

“Desperately,” he panted. “Doona make me wait another moment.”

Jean pulled him away from the bed until she could walk around him. “I’d like to look a wee bit more over such an impressive warrior.”

He didn’t stop her as she walked behind him. Jean took a deep breath and brought the goblet down on the back of his head.

There was a loud grunt before he staggered and turned to face her. He blinked as he looked at first her and then the goblet. “What have you done, wench?”

Jean was trying to figure out what to do next when he crumpled to the floor. She tossed aside the goblet and grasped the pommel of the dagger.

She found the thin leather cord around his neck where the small gold key dangled. Jean cut the leather and took the key. With one last look at the commander, she rose and raced to the door.

Keith had told her she would find Braden on the second floor near the stairs leading down to the great hall. Jean didn’t know how much time she had before Simon awoke and set off the alarm.

She reached the landing to the great hall and leaned against the wall. She found it most odd that there were no guards in the corridors, just the two sitting below in the great hall.

It had to be Braden’s doing, but where was he? He needed the key. Without it, he would have no proof of Niall’s deeds. Jean waited several more moments, her anxiety rising with each beat of her heart.

Could something have happened to detain him? Maybe she needed to get the evidence herself?

Keith had explained that the master chamber, which he was sure Niall would have claimed for his own, was on the third level. Jean prayed she remembered Keith’s instructions about how to reach the master chamber. If not …

She refused to think along those lines.

Every step inside the castle added to her foreboding. It grew until it clung to her, weighing her down and making her doubt her every move.

Several corridors, numerous turns, and two stairways later, Jean stood in front of Niall’s chamber.

No guards had stood in her way, there had been no guards at all. She had been relieved since she hadn’t thought she could have overpowered them with her dagger. Now there was just a door between her and Niall’s defeat.

And whatever was behind that door.

Eight

Jean cracked open the door to Niall’s chambers and peered around it. Her gaze swept the large room and, thankfully, found it empty.

She squeezed inside and went straight to the wall where a large square chest was imbedded. Jean slipped the key into the chest’s lock and turned.

With a click the door popped open. Jean stared at the small box inside, a box that could change everything. She began to reach for it when the sound of laughter halted her.

“I expected Braden, not you, Jean. However, it’s just like my cousin to send someone to do the things he doesna have the courage to do himself.”

A sizzle of fear crept over her skin as she turned to face Niall. “You think you know so much. But you don’t.”

“On the contrary, my lady, I know a great deal.” He motioned with his hand and Mary stepped into view.

All the breath left Jean as she realized Mary was the traitor in Braden’s camp. “Why?” she asked Mary.

Mary shrugged slim shoulders and smiled at Niall. “Because he asked it of me.”

Jean couldn’t believe everything was going to fall apart. “Mary, you do realize Niall doesn’t care about you.”

“He said he’ll marry me,” Mary murmured, her devoted eyes on Niall.

Niall laughed and jerked his head to the door. “I’ll find you later, Mary. Right now, I’ve other things to tend to.”

Jean seethed, but she held her tongue until she learned just what he had planned.

He ran a hand across the red mark that had scarred him from his eye to his cheek. A mark she had given him. “You’ve scarred me.”

“I wish I’d done more.”

“I think maybe I should give you a scar of your own.”

Jean lifted her chin and raised her brow.

Niall chuckled. “I’ve known that one day Braden would try to take the castle from me. He will learn soon enough it isn’t possible. This castle should have been mine. I’ve made sure of that now.”

“Your time here is through.”

Niall smiled, evil pouring off him. “Do you know what’s in the box you’ve worked so diligently to acquire?”

Jean kept silent. She didn’t know. Whatever it was, it was evidence that would seal Niall’s fate.

“Ah, so Braden didna tell you. I like to keep trophies of my kills. I would have a trophy of Braden as well had he been caught that night as he was supposed to be. Unfortunately, for the past two years he’s managed to evade every attempt I’ve made to end his life.”

Jean’s knees threatened to buckle as Niall’s words sunk into her brain. “You’re insane.”

“I think it’s time we find Braden. I know he’s somewhere in the castle.”

“He’s not,” Jean lied. “I was to get the box and deliver it to him.”

Niall chuckled and shook his head. “Doona play me for a fool. Braden wouldna send you alone.”

Jean was going to continue arguing but Niall lifted his sword pointed the blade at her heart.

“It’s time I killed my cousin. And you, my lady, are going to help me do it.”

Braden cursed as he paused to look out a window into the bailey. He spotted several of his men who had managed to hinder – or kill – guards and take their positions. Niall had so many men that the infiltration had been easy.

But where was Keith?

Braden had waited near the stairs leading to the great hall far longer than he had liked, yet Keith had never shown. There was only one thing that would have kept Keith from getting to Braden. Death.

He would have to find the commander and get the key himself.

Braden knew something was wrong when the servants around the castle began to leave. And no new guards came to check on the others.

And there was no sign of Keith or Niall.

Braden leaned his head against the stone wall and sighed. He had hoped he would come out of this attack alive. He thought of Jean, of the peace and contentment her mere presence gave him.

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her in his arms. He wanted to grow old with her, to see her belly swell with their children, and watch those children grow.

But, somehow, he had always known he would never have such a future. Niall had made sure of that.

The thump of boot heels on the stones drew his attention. He pressed against the wall, his sword held in front of him. To his right was a corner where two corridors intersected. Those foot falls were coming right towards him.

Braden waited patiently. He knew it was Niall, knew the time had come for them to battle each other. No escape for either of them this time.

One would die.

And one would live.

The sounds came closer, reached the corner. Braden twisted his blade and swung it to his right, the edge of his sword at the throat of the intruder.

His eyes widened as he heard a small, feminine gasp. It was as if a dagger had plunged into his heart when he recognized Jean.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

Her face crumpled as a tear fell onto her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Braden frowned.

Someone shoved Jean from behind. She stumbled, but quickly righted herself as the tip of a sword was pressed into her back.

Niall came into view.

“I knew I was going to enjoy the last expression on your face,” Nail said. “It’s almost been worth all the trouble you’ve caused me these past years.”

Rage burned and simmered through Braden. The mere fact Niall had hold of Jean made Braden want to run him through. “Trouble? You’ve not seen what I have in store for you.”

There were shouts from outside the castle and the sound of something rumbling. Braden smiled. The clans had gathered.

Niall’s nostrils flared as he glared at Braden. He grabbed Jean’s arm and shoved her into a nearby chamber so he could look out the window.

Braden followed them and watched Niall’s building fury. “You didna really think you could get away with your murders forever, did you? Whether you kill me or not, there are others that know of the box of your trophies.”

“So I’ll destroy it,” Niall said as he whirled around, spittle flying from his lips.

Braden didn’t like how close Niall was to Jean. “There will be enough testimonies by the lairds to convince the king of your trespasses even without the box. Your reign ends today.”

“I doona believe so, cousin,” Nail said through clenched teeth. “I see the way you watch Jean, the way you try so hard not to alert me to her presence. You care for her. You’ve allowed her to meddle in our affairs. And for that, you get to watch me kill her.”

Red flooded Braden’s vision. He knew he needed to end all this. He bellowed and raised his sword over his head. Niall had no choice but to release Jean or be impaled.

Niall jumped out of the way, shoving Jean into the wall as he did. Out of the corner of his eye, Braden noticed that Jean was completely still after she hit the floor.

He wanted to go to her, to see if she was all right. But first he had to kill Niall.

Braden rotated his wrist, sending his sword slicing around him. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment.”

Niall swung his sword at Braden’s head. Braden blocked the attack and spun, aiming his blade at Niall’s throat. Niall leaned backwards, but not quick enough.

Braden smiled when he saw the blood bead on his cousin’s throat. “I’ll take you piece by piece if I must.”

Niall touched his neck and looked at the blood on his fingers. “I hope you enjoyed that, cousin, because that’s all you’re going to get from me.”

There were no more words and they clashed once more. Again and again Niall attacked, and each time Braden effortlessly blocked him. Niall’s anger was making him careless, sloppy.

With his left hand, Braden grabbed at the hand in which Niall held his sword. He elbowed Niall twice in the face before he swung back his fist and connected with his jaw. Blood gushed from Niall’s broken nose. His scream of fury was music to Braden’s ears.

Jean split open her eyes. Pain thudded through her head. She lifted a hand to her brow and came away with something thick and sticky on her fingers.

Blood.

She heard a horrible, angry scream and turned her head in time to see Braden’s triumphant smile. With blood pouring down Niall’s face, she found herself smiling as well.

Jean watched in fascination as Braden’s sword moved with such speed and grace. Niall was no match for Braden’s skill.

The sound of swords clanging ended in a rush. Braden knocked Niall’s steel out of his hands. There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation as Braden plunged his blade into Niall’s abdomen.

Niall clawed at Braden’s arms and his knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor.

Braden withdrew his sword. “It’s over. Finally.” Niall had breathed his last.

“Aye,” Jean whispered.

Braden’s head whipped around. He was at her side in the next instant, his hands gentle as they cupped her face. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my head. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ve never been so scared in my life as I was when I saw he had you yet again.”

Jean smiled up at the man who had captured her heart. “I’m sorry.”

Braden pulled her into his arms. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady beat of his heart. This is where she always wanted to be. In Braden’s arms.

Braden helped her to her feet, and they made their way to the battlements. As soon as Braden’s men saw him they let up a cheer that was echoed by the clans who surrounded the castle.

“It worked,” Braden mumbled as he looked out over the sea of warriors.

Jean smiled and threaded her fingers with his. “Of course it did.”

“There’s just one thing missing now that I have my home returned.” He turned his head until his bright blue eyes met hers. “You.”

Jean’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. “What is it that you want, Braden MacAlister?”

“You. With me always. I’m asking you to be my wife.”

She smiled through the tears that flooded her eyes. “I want nothing more.”

His mouth descended on hers for a kiss filled with passion and promise, of longing … and love.

“God’s blood,” he whispered into her neck as he held her tightly. “I love you, Jean MacKay.”

“And I love you.”

“Good,” said a deep, booming voice behind Braden. A voice Jean recognized all too well.

Braden stepped away from her and faced her father. “Laird MacKay.”

“Laird MacAlister,” her father replied.

“Thank you for coming,” Braden said.

“I gave my word.”

Braden looked at Jean and smiled. “I would ask one more thing, Laird MacKay.”

“What might that be?”

“I would like to wed Jean.”

Her father’s hazel gaze turned to her. “And you Jean? What do you want?”

“I want to marry Braden.”

Her father’s lips pressed together as he stared at them a moment before he heaved a great sigh. “Than I suppose we ought to plan a wedding.”

Deafening cheers erupted around them. But Jean heard nothing. She was lost in Braden’s eyes and the pleasure of his kiss.