Scottish Highlands, Summer 1512

SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS, SUMMER 1512

" D amn it, Jamie, she's following us again." Toran's complaint, hissed between his teeth, matched the glare in his eyes as he and Jamie raced down the path from the Aerie to the glen below the tor.

"And 'tis my fault?" Jamie retorted after a glance over his shoulder. Fourteen-year-old Caitrin was hard to miss, her long auburn hair flying, and coltish legs pumping to catch the two lads. She danced between two horses bound for the Aerie's gates, twisting aside without missing a step to let them pass, and kept coming.

"Ye were supposed to make certain yer sister kept her busy at her stitching, ye ken?"

"I thought ye said yer sister would do that." He thought Toran had. But he'd also told his older sister Netta to make sure Caitrin didn't follow Toran or him when they left the keep, and she'd agreed—for a price. Jamie smirked to himself. He wouldn't be helping her by collecting the herbs she wanted after all. He didn't know what price Toran's sister—or even which sister—had exacted, but it seemed they couldn't count on any of their sisters.

He and Toran reached the glen and raced across it to the woods, where they changed direction. "'Tis a bad idea, Toran," Jamie warned. Toran hoped to lose their follower in the thick undergrowth and trees. But Caitrin was nearly as fast as they were. Or faster. They heard twigs snapping and the occasional girlish oath as the low evergreen branches slapped at her or she tripped over raised roots, but she never gave up, though she was still behind them.

Toran had no patience when it came to Caitrin Fletcher. But something about her had attracted Jamie from the moment he first saw her. He liked her laugh and how determined she was to accomplish anything the lads did—and to beat them if she could. Those seemed to him to be excellent qualities in a laird's only heir, male or female. And Caitrin was the Fletcher heir, which was why, no matter that it was unusual to foster away a lass, she was now chasing him and Toran into the trees near the clan Lathan stronghold, and not doing embroidery under the watchful eye of her nurse in her chamber at Fletcher.

"She's still gaining on us," Toran complained as he took another turn, hoping to confuse their trail.

Jamie paused and looked back, but didn't see her. He wanted to. She was pleasing to look at, with thick hair that fell to her waist in shimmering waves, bright eyes that crinkled when she smiled—and that laugh. It drew Jamie like Cook's honey cakes, sweetly rich and irresistible.

But Jamie would be laughed out of the keep if he deserted Toran to take care of an almost three-years-younger lass. Though Toran was not the eldest and heir, he was the laird's son.

Toran ducked into a tangle of undergrowth between two oaks and hunkered down against one of the trees. Jamie knew he expected Caitrin to run right past them if she was still on their trail. She'd gone quiet, so Jamie ran past Toran's location and slid behind a broad pine to listen for her. Once his breathing slowed and quieted, he heard nothing else except for birdcalls and leaves rustling in the highland wind. It seemed they'd lost her. Toran would be pleased. They could hunt coneys without Caitrin deliberately making noise and scaring away their prey. But Jamie's lips tightened in disappointment. Opportunities to spend time with her were rare. Even if he had to do so with Toran shooting frowns at him behind her back, Jamie would relish the chance.

The longer they waited, the less comfortable Jamie felt, his gut knotting more and more as time passed. Bird calls and wind rustling in the trees continued to be all he heard, and they were all normal forest sounds. Caitrin couldn't be anywhere near them or the birds would have gone silent as she approached. Or she would have made some noise that gave her away as she tried to sneak up on them. But he heard nothing. She must have lost their trail and gone another way. That worried him.

The hunt Toran had proposed seemed a good idea at the time. Cook always welcomed coneys for stew or to add meat to other dishes, but losing Caitrin in these woods struck Jamie as unkind—and foolish. She didn't know her way around in the trees and thick undergrowth as well as they did.

Suddenly convinced that she would get lost and not find her way back to the Aerie, he tangled his fingers in his hair, clenched his fist, and tugged, then did what he knew was right. Toran would be annoyed, but he stepped out of cover anyway. He could put up with Toran's complaints—or worse, his teasing that Jamie was sweet on the lass. He no longer cared. If Caitrin had gone straight where they made their last turn, she'd be deep in the woods and headed for rougher ground. Wolves lived in these woods, as did other predators. A lass alone would not be able to defend herself.

No longer interested in concealment, he stomped over to where Toran hid, careless of the noise he made. "Enough," Jamie told him. "She might be in trouble soon, if she is nay already. We need to find her."

"Shite, Jami—" Toran's complaint cut off mid-word.

"Nay, ye dinna," Caitrin said over him, her voice coming from shockingly close. "Ye can try to lose me, but ye willna."

Her taunt made Toran growl and stand. "Ye canna come with us," he insisted, turning his head toward the source of the girlish voice and raising his. "We're hunting coneys. Ye always scare them away."

"Truly?" She stepped out from concealment behind a nearby tree and held up two, her fist around their long ears. "How many do ye have?"

Shock sent heat through Jamie in a wave. "How did ye have time to do that and still find us?" And how did the lass who used to spoil their hunts with her sympathy for the "wee beasties" now present them with two of her own kills?

Caitrin smirked at Toran, and Jamie wanted to applaud her backbone. "I'll never tell," she taunted.

"I dinna care if ye do or nay," Toran told her. "Take those back to Cook. We'll bring more."

Jamie could see Toran was impressed and fighting to hide it. His shoulders had tensed, though he kept his hands open and loose.

Her gaze moved from Toran to Jamie. "I'd rather stay with ye. I can help." She didn't plead. She simply made her case, impressing Jamie yet again.

Toran shook his head. "Nay, ye canna. These woods are nay place for a lass alone?—"

Jamie frowned at Toran. Until she showed up and beat him at his own game, he'd been fine leading her a merry chase all through these woods.

"I willna be alone," she argued, her gaze shifting quickly to Toran as she made her point, then back to Jamie. "I'll be with ye." She held his gaze, challenge and something else sparking from her eyes.

Jamie's pulse quickened. What was she implying? She'd always seemed to want Toran's attention, but her gaze stayed locked with his, as if Toran was not with them. Had she finally realized he was more her friend than Toran would ever be?

"Ye canna fight," Toran insisted. "Ye'll be a danger to us if we have to protect ye."

Color bloomed across her cheeks and nose. She narrowed her eyes at Toran's words, and the flush on her face told Jamie she was still in a mood to fight him. This was getting them nowhere.

"I'll go back with ye to the keep," Jamie said. The words were out before he gave them any thought. And the look Toran gave him promised trouble later. But in this, Toran was right. If they were attacked — by wolves or anything else, she'd be a liability. "Toran can carry on. While we go, we may add to yer count, and later, we'll see if he can match what ye caught."

Caitrin gave him a grateful look and nodded.

Toran huffed out a breath and aimed a glare at Jamie. "Go on with ye, then. I've work to do for both of us now that ye would rather spend time with a lass."

Jamie met Toran's glare with a shrug Toran was welcome to interpret any way he liked, then gestured for Caitrin to precede him.

Behind her back, Toran grinned. Jamie turned his, telling Toran he was not pleased with his behavior. Not that Toran would care. He'd gotten his way.

Both Jamie and Caitrin took down two more coneys on the edge of the glen. Inside the Aerie's gates, they headed for the kitchen and gave Cook the rabbits.

"Thank ye, Jamie," she told him after a nod to Caitrin.

"Dinna thank me," he told Cook. "Most of those are Caitrin's contribution."

"Well done, lass. Thank ye."

Caitrin smiled at the praise.

"Do ye ken yer herbs as well as how to catch game?"

"I do," Caitrin responded. "What do ye need?"

Cook mentioned several herbs. "They grow in the glen and along the woods, nay in the Aerie's garden. The next time ye venture out of the keep, ye might keep an eye out for them."

"I'm pleased to be of help to ye," Caitrin told her. "We can go back down now."

Jamie kept his groan to himself. What Caitrin proposed was exactly what his sister wanted him to do. But this would be with Caitrin. Alone. "Aye, we can, Cook," he said, "if ye need these things today."

"I need them every day to flavor yer food," she reminded him. "Better fresh, though I dry some to use during the winter. And many are useful in poultices and the like. Ye might ask the healer before ye go."

Well, that put a point to it. He'd not talk Caitrin out of this errand now. Not when she could contribute to Cook and the healer.

"Will ye truly go back with me, Jamie? Toran seemed concerned…"

Toran concerned? Well, true, but he had been more concerned with sending her back up the tor and out of his hair than he had been with her safety. "Of course I will." No one would keep him from the chance to spend time alone with her. Those opportunities were rare, indeed, in a busy keep like the Aerie. And with Toran occupied elsewhere, Jamie might have the time he needed to find out more about Caitrin, and to discern where her affections were directed—at Toran, as he'd always thought, or at him. The looks she'd given him earlier in the woods made him hope for the latter.

After Caitrin collected a basket from Cook for the herbs, they visited the healer to find out what she needed, then went back down the trail to the glen. The day had warmed from the morning chill. Bees and butterflies danced from flower to flower, making the grasses and shrubs filling the glen seem alive with sound and motion.

"'Tis bonnie, aye?" Jamie kept his gaze firmly on the hills in the distance, but what he truly meant was Caitrin. Yet he dared not tell her, not in so many words, and not yet. Not until he knew he'd been right to think she wanted to spend time alone with him, and not with Toran.

"Aye. And look! There are the cowberries both Cook and the healer need." Caitrin moved quickly to pluck several handfuls while she set Jamie to gathering wild onions for the kitchen.

After an hour of silent toil, broken only by her exclamations when she discovered another plant needed in the keep, Jamie realized he would have to be happy to watch her hair in the light and her shape as she moved and stretched for the plant she intended to pick. She fascinated him—and he wished she felt the same about him, but from the corner of his eye, he hadn't caught her gaze straying to him. Not even once. She'd ignored him save to ask his help to dig up something she couldn't pull from the ground. He was beginning to give up hope of having enough of a conversation to understand her feelings.

Finally, they moved under the shade of the forest lining the glen. Jamie hoped Toran was nowhere nearby. Or that he had already gone back up to the keep, taking more coneys to Cook. They hadn't seen him, but he could have gotten by them easily. Jamie's attention had been divided by their quest and Caitrin's nearness. And a general watchful eye for predators, even more acute now that they had ventured under the trees.

Before long, Caitrin's basket was full enough for Jamie to insist on carrying it for her. He kept watch while she searched for more herbs. The Aerie's tor was out of sight now, behind rows of trees, which meant they were out of sight of the guards on the Aerie's walls. If trouble found them here, they would have to meet it on the strength of Jamie's dirk and sgian dubh . He started wishing he had a claymore on his back, then chided himself for being foolishly anxious. He and Toran had explored these woods countless times with no problems. He had no reason to expect any today.

Except that Caitrin was with him. He would protect her with his life.

"Ach, nay!" Her outcry startled Jamie out of his thoughts but sent a surge of adrenaline rushing into his blood. He spun to face her, concerned at the frown that had replaced her usually sunny expression. Blood streaked the back of her hand.

"What's amiss, lass? What happened?"

"I'm daft as a stick," she complained and bent to tear a bit of cloth from her undershift, exposing her low boot and trim woolen-stocking-clad ankle.

Jamie would have enjoyed the view save for the blood on her hand.

"I canna do it. Jamie, can ye help me?"

He set the basket aside and knelt by her foot. "Of course. Let me see." He took her hand in his and studied the wound on its back. Not a snake bite, thank the saints. A long scratch. Deep enough to bleed freely, it dripped warm blood onto his hand.

"I went after some berries as a treat for us in that patch of brambles," Caitrin told him with a nod in its direction. "Instead of just picking the new leaves the healer wanted and leaving the berries for the animals."

"'Tis deep enough, it does need to be wrapped."

"Ye can tear a length from my shift's hem. When ye are done, we still need to pick some leaves."

He bent to tear the cloth as she directed, tempted, but for the circumstances, to touch her ankle, to run a hand up her calf to see if her legs were as strong with muscle as he thought they must be. But that would be improper in the extreme. He retrieved the cloth, muttering, "I hope this wasna yer favorite shift."

Caitrin laughed softly.

Jamie glanced up and nearly choked at the gleam in her eyes as she watched him. If he had the nerve, he'd stand and kiss her, right then and there. But instead, he grinned, took her hand and gently bound it in the cloth. "That should stop the bleeding and protect it until we get back. "The healer will tend it. Likely, ye will have a scar, but mayhap nay." If she did, would looking at it remind her of him?

"Thank ye, Jamie," she told him, inspecting his work. "Thank ye for coming with me, and thank ye for taking care of me."

He stood, and her gaze lifted to meet his. "I will always take care of ye, lass. I care about ye."

"I ken ye do."

Something in her tone gave her words extra weight, but before Jamie asked how or why, she spoke again.

"And I for ye, Jamie Lathan." She lifted her uninjured hand to his cheek. "Ye are a good friend to me. One I will treasure always."

Jamie's heart lifted at her words. "As I treasure ye, Caitrin," he said, his voice dropping soft and deep. He laid his hand over her smaller one. "More than ye ken." Should he kiss her? Would she welcome it?

Her gaze shifted to the side.

He held his breath and fought back the urge.

She laid a finger over his lips and held up her other hand.

At first he thought she had divined his intention and meant to keep his lips away from hers.

But in a moment, he understood she meant to silence him. He heard what had stolen her attention from his confession.

Voices. Male voices. Unfamiliar male voices.

Jamie nodded, took her arm, and gestured with a tilt of his head toward the glen and the safety of the Aerie. Caitrin picked up the basket with her good hand. He led her that way, moving as silently as he could, his free hand on his dirk. She matched him, step for quiet step, her expression fierce, eyes narrowed and head cocked as if listening for followers.

Good lass. Jamie was proud of her courage even as he hurried them away. The voices moved deeper into the forest and soon faded. Still, he didn't take a full breath until they were out from under the trees and back in the glen, in full view of the Aerie's guards.

"Who were they?" Caitrin whispered so softly, he barely heard her over the hum of the bees floating from flower to flower.

"I dinna ken," Jamie said and pursed his lips. "'Tis unusual to have strangers this close to the Aerie."

"Ye will tell the guards, aye?" She turned and looked up at the Aerie's walls.

"Of course. The laird will send out a patrol. Now, forget them. Let's get ye to the healer to take care of yer hand."

"First we'll take our basket to Cook," she said, determination in her tone, and passed it to him when he reached for it.

"Whatever ye wish, lass," Jamie told her. He helped her up the tor, the basket in one hand and the other on Caitrin's elbow. Though she had climbed the tor quite easily on her own earlier that day, she permitted his touch, for which Jamie was grateful. She'd been hurt while with him and he wanted to care for her. Though the trip to the glen had not gone precisely as he'd hoped, he would have other chances to make her see him as more than a friend. She would be with Lathan for another year, perhaps two, before she would return to Fletcher, so he had time to win her heart—and if everything went as he hoped, someday, her hand.

He knew the daughter of a laird must make a match advantageous to her clan, but surely her father counted on her fostering at Lathan to result in a match with a suitable Lathan lad to rule Fletcher with her, or act as her arms master or in some other highly-placed position in their clan. A lad like him, perhaps.

Toran would have a better sense of who might be considered for a female laird's husband and in what capacity, but the last thing Jamie wanted to do was raise the idea with Toran that Jamie had hopes in that direction. He would never hear the end of it, especially if she left Lathan without him, without a betrothal or even a hand fasting with him. The idea saddened him, not because it would give Toran years' worth of teasing to torture him with, but because he would lose Caitrin. Or he might plant the idea in Toran's mind, and his friend would decide to pursue her to one day become the Fletcher laird. Jamie didn't like that idea at all.

He fought the urge to say something to her. To convince her she belonged with him, and he with her. But he couldn't. Not yet. It was too soon. He had time, and today was a good start.

They sought out the guard captain and told him of the voices in the woods, then dropped the basket of herbs, flowers and berries in the kitchen with Cook to sort through. She would ensure the healer got a share of the things she could use.

Jamie insisted on escorting Caitrin to the healer. "Ye were hurt while ye were with me. I willna leave ye alone until I see ye healed," he told her. "I meant it when I said I would always take care of ye."

"The healer will care for me, Jamie. Surely ye have something more important to do."

"Aye, she will, and I'll escort ye to her," he insisted with a smile. "Ye are the most important—helping ye is the most important thing I have to do today." He feared once again that he'd said too much, but her answering smile relieved his anxiety.

"Thank ye, Jamie. Ye are a good man."

The healer greeted them when they arrived at her herbal near the kitchen. "What have ye done to yer hand?" The make-shift bandage Jamie had wrapped around it was hard to miss.

"'Tis naught," Caitrin said. "A scratch. But Jamie insisted I come to ye."

The healer nodded. "Jamie is wise beyond his years."

Jamie fought the urge to stand taller and puff out his chest at the praise. Both women were too perceptive to let him get away with that. Besides, he was too old for that sort of thing.

"Where did ye scratch yer hand?"

"In the woods, reaching into a bramble for berries. We brought Cook a basket full of herbs, berries and flowers. Some, she said, she'd save for ye."

The healer nodded as she unwrapped Caitrin's hand. "Very well. Jamie, ye needna remain."

He understood an order when he heard one and took a reluctant step toward the door. One did not disobey the healer, especially not in her herbal.

"Thank ye, Jamie," Caitrin told him again before he went too far.

"Of course, lass. I'll speak with ye later."

Her gaze locked with his and she gave him another smile.

He took it with him, held close to his heart.

He saw Caitrin at the evening meal, but she was with a group of lasses, her friends, and he didn't intrude. She had a new bandage on her hand, one neater and cleaner than the one he'd fashioned from a strip torn from her shift. He held that memory close to his heart as well. She had allowed a familiarity, an intimacy, that he hadn't expected, though it was needful at the time. It gave him hope that she would allow that bond between them to grow into something more.

He spent the next morning training with the other younger men of the clan, paired, as he often was, with Toran.

"So how many coneys did ye give to Cook?" Jamie asked as he swung a fist at Toran's jaw. They usually trained with weapons, but the arms master insisted they be able to fight without them as well. Many battles devolved into weaponless, hand-to-hand combat. His men would be well prepared for that eventuality.

Jamie didn't really care about the coneys, but knew Toran would have kept count, and had probably asked Cook how many they'd supplied.

Toran ducked and danced aside and around Jamie. "I beat ye by one," he answered, aiming a blow at Jamie's kidneys.

Jamie spun and took the hit on his arm, then lashed out and caught Toran on the chin, snapping his head back even though Jamie pulled the punch—a little. "Did ye, now?"

"Enough!" The arms master called out as the bell rang for the midday meal. "Get cleaned up and get inside."

Toran rubbed his chin and gave Jamie a grin. "Good shot. Did ye enjoy yer time with Caitrin?"

His smirk told Jamie he knew what Jamie had been up to in offering to escort her. "I did," Jamie answered succinctly, grabbing a length of sheeting to dry off with. "Until we heard strangers' voices in the woods. We headed back to the keep."

"Strangers?" Toran scrubbed sweat from his face and neck, eyeing Jamie.

"Men. Several. We didn't stick around to find out how many. We went one way, and from the sound of it, they were headed away from the glen, so we didn't see them."

Toran frowned. "Ye told?—"

"The guard captain, aye, of course."

"Damn. That could have gone very badly."

"It didna. Let's leave it at that, aye?"

Late that afternoon, the laird called Jamie to his solar.

"I dinna want ye to fash overmuch," he began, "but yer sister is missing."

Jamie felt an icicle plunge into his chest. The voices in the woods filled his mind and he sank into the chair opposite the laird's desk.

"How long?"

"Since early this morning. The healer sent her to search for something she needed. She says Netta should have been back hours ago."

"Caitrin and I just brought a basket full of…" Damn, the bramble leaves. Is that what she'd gone for? The leaves they were meant to gather yesterday? Jamie's belly roiled with guilt and bile rose in his throat.

He stood, unable to sit any longer. If he didn't get out of here soon, he'd be sick in the laird's solar. "Who's looking for her? I need to help find her."

"Ye need to stay here, lad. I have men searching for her. I dinna want them to have to search for ye, too."

"There were men in the woods yesterday. Voices I didna recognize."

"Aye, the guard captain told me what ye reported to him. We will find her."

Jamie's belly gave another lurch and he felt cold sweat break out on his forehead. "Ye willna if those men took her."

"We dinna ken that, lad. She may have fallen and gotten hurt, and is waiting, kenning we'll look for her. Our men will find her and bring her to the healer. She will be well."

Jamie hoped the laird was right. But some sense he couldn't name told him her disappearance was connected to the men he and Caitrin heard the day before. He was glad he'd gone with her and had gotten her away before anyone found her. They could both be thankful for that. Now, if only his sister was as lucky and the Lathan warriors found her. Night would fall soon, and predators would roam the woods in the darkness.

Without another word, he left the solar and ran for the gate, the movement and anticipation of doing something, anything, to find his sister, helping to settle his nerves. Despite the laird's assurances, he would search for Netta. But when he reached the bailey, the gates were closed.

"No one in or out," the guard told him. "Nay 'til the searchers return."

"I go to join them," Jamie insisted. "Open the gates."

"The laird specifically forbid us to allow ye to leave," the man told him.

Jamie froze where he stood, certainty washing through him that the Lathan feared the worst and was keeping Jamie from being the one to find his sister's body. It was one thing to be lied to and coddled as though he couldn't be trusted in the woods. It was another to be locked in like a child, unable to help his sister in her time of need. His stomach twisted again and its contents threatened to erupt, but he held it down, anger tightening his muscles and locking his jaw. He spun on his heel and climbed the steps to the wall walk.

The view of the glen and the edge of the woods was unchanged. Late afternoon sunshine filled the glen and lit the tops of the trees. No one was visible. Not the searchers and not his sister. Tension made his hands shake as he lifted them to grip the bulwark he peered over. The men must have gone deeper into the woods. Perhaps even where he and Caitrin had heard the voices. If she hadn't heard them before they got too close, if he hadn't been with her, she could be missing, too. The thought of both Caitrin and his sister missing—gone—brought tears to his eyes that he'd held inside since the laird delivered the news about Netta. She'd been missing for hours, and the daylight was waning. He pounded his fists on the wall, hating the feeling of helplessness that hollowed his chest and churned his belly. He should be out there, too, searching. Instead, Jamie stood vigil until the sun set, then went down the stairs into the great hall. Toran met him there.

"I heard. I'm sorry, Jamie. They'll find her."

Jamie shook his head, unable to speak. He took a breath. "The sun just set. What are her chances in the dark?"

Toran's expression was grim, his mouth set, and his brow furrowed. They both knew the risks. "If she has yer luck, she'll be fine."

Jamie's eyes burned and he turned away, headed up the stairs to his chamber, leaving Toran and his platitudes behind. Netta was smart and if she could, she would take care of herself until help arrived. If she could.

Vision dimmed by tears, Jamie didn't see the person he bumped into in the upper hall.

"Jamie! What's amiss?"

Caitrin's voice was a balm to his tortured soul, as was her touch on his arm, gentle yet firm enough to stop him in his tracks. She was here, safe, and with him. And he needed her more than she knew. "Netta is missing in the woods," he choked out. "All day."

"Ach, nay," Caitrin said and gripped both his shoulders. "Those voices we heard…"

"Aye, 'tis what fashes me." He wiped his face, trying to dry the tears on his cheeks.

Before he knew it, her arms were around him, and she urged his head onto her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jamie. I ken how hard it is to wait for news."

"The laird sent searchers," he said against her neck. Her scent filled his nose, soothing him enough to raise his head. "But he willna allow me to join them."

"They will find her." A noise on the stair startled them. "Come, let's go in yer chamber. Ye dinna need others?—"

"Nay, I dinna. I need ye."

"Then let me care for ye as ye have cared for me."

Caitrin sat with him while he paced, and talked to him. He remembered none of what she said, only the soothing sound of her voice and the fact of her presence, trying to help him through his fears. Finally, exhausted, he sat on his bed. She pushed him flat, covered him with a blanket and stayed in the chair by his bed until he fell asleep.

Late the next day, the searchers returned with his sister's body wrapped in several plaids and tied over the back of a horse. No one would let Jamie see her, but he heard enough to sicken him. She'd been attacked and abused in all the ways evil men can abuse a woman alone. Her bloodied body bore the marks. Proof, he was told by someone who overheard the men who'd found her talking later that evening, of what was done to her before she died.

Jamie spent the time until they buried her in a rage, but the feverish intensity of it left his body as they lowered hers into the ground, still wrapped and hidden from his sight. He hadn't even been allowed to see her face. In place of the rage, cold fury sank into his bones, chilling him. He knew in that moment that he dared never give in to it, or he would not be responsible for his actions. For the rest of his life, he would be a danger to all around him. He would gladly have died in his sister's place. Instead, he would have to live with the knowledge of what happened to her. Of his guilt that he and Caitrin had failed to bring back the leaves the healer sent Netta for. And that his warning to the guard captain had no effect. He would always blame himself. He knew his sister went often to the glen for Cook. He should have told her about the voices, too, but he was too captivated by his outing with Caitrin and the closeness they'd shared.

Toran found him on the practice field, firing arrow after arrow into the targets set up against the outer wall.

"Jamie, stop," he commanded.

"I canna," Jamie told him as he drew and released again. "I have to get rid of the beast within me."

Toran took his arm. "There's nay such thing," Toran told him. "'Tis only yer grief, and it will pass in time."

"Will it?" Jamie dropped the bow and faced his friend. "I dinna think so. I want to kill something. Kill the men who did this. I fear I always will."

"My father has forbidden the lasses to leave the keep. And he's sending Caitrin back to Fletcher. He fears he canna protect her here."

Jamie would have expected such news to be a body blow, but he felt nothing. Still, he didn't want her to go. "So soon?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"He canna do that. She'll be in greater danger on the way." Jamie felt the beast within him raise its head.

"She's going with twenty of our best warriors. She'll be safe."

"She would be safer here. Netta should have been safe here." He half expected Toran to clasp him on the shoulder, but his friend had better sense.

"I ken it. I'm sorry."

Jamie walked away, leaving Toran to collect the bow and arrows. "Sorry doesna bring her back," he muttered. Or keep Caitrin with me, he told himself.

The next morning, as promised, twenty men mounted up with Caitrin in their midst. When she saw Jamie approaching, her eyes widened. Did she really think he would let her leave without a word? She reached out a hand from her seat on one of the Lathan's most reliable horses and the sight of the fresh bandage wrapping it nearly stopped his heart. Had it been so few days since everything changed?

"Who told ye?" Her frown said she already knew.

"Toran." He glanced aside to where the laird and Toran stood speaking to the head of Caitrin's guards at the front of the double line of horses. The wider spread of the horses around her made it look like a snake that had eaten a mouse.

"Toran." She sniffed. "He told me I'm too young to ken what's best for me and to do what I'm told."

"He isn't always right, but in this, he might be."

Caitrin's mouth dropped open and her brows lowered.

He knew his words hit her like a betrayal, but what else could he say? Neither of them could stop this.

"Ye must be safe," he insisted, putting his hand over hers where they clenched her reins. "I couldna bear to see ye hurt."

"I dinna wish to leave," she told him.

If only she'd said she didn't wish to leave him . But she hadn't.

"I dinna wish for ye to leave, either, Caitrin, ye ken that. But perhaps 'tis for the best." He let go of her and took a short step away, fully aware of how close the guard's horse stood behind him.

If Caitrin knew the cold hatred that lived within him now, she'd kick her horse into motion and flee from him as fast as her horse could run. He was not the same lad he'd been, wrapping her injured hand and leading her away from danger in the woods. Now he was a man with a monster inside of him, a beast that wanted to throw back its head and howl its pain and fury to the skies. He'd never get over having to abandon picking the bramble leaves that, had they collected them, would have meant his sister still lived. He didn't blame Caitrin. He swore vengeance on the men who'd killed his sister.

Caitrin's hand found his cheek, much as she'd done in the woods, and Jamie's heart stuttered again, filling his chest with agony as he recalled the night she'd put her arms around him to comfort him, and stayed in the chair next to his bed until he fell into an exhausted sleep. He would never hurt her. Would he? Not knowing scared him to his bones.

"Let's go!" The guard captain shouted as the laird and Toran stepped away from him.

"Ye canna lie to me. Ye dinna believe sending me away is for the best—for me or for ye." Caitrin's lips twisted as if she attempted a smile and failed. "Thank ye for yer care of me," she said, softly and simply, then she released him and followed her guard out the Aerie's gates and down the tor, away from him.

Face burning from her touch, Jamie stood as the guards' horses passed him on either side and watched her go. Whatever remained of the lad in him feared he'd never see her again, and worse that she'd never want to see him again. They would both be reminders for each other of his sister's loss, and the terrible way she'd died.

Perhaps the distance between them was for the best. If he ever hoped to be with Caitrin and keep her safe, he needed time to get control of himself. He would not trouble her unless she reached out to him first. If she did not, he would know the truth—she had never been his, and his dream of a future with her had been just that, a dream.