Chapter Eight

Anna's breath rushed out. She swayed, then shook her head. "What? Surely, I misunderstood."

Neacal grasped hold of both her forearms, lest she topple from the chair. An abrupt ache struck his gut. What if she refused? "You didn't misunderstand," he assured her. "I'm asking you to marry me."

"I cannot." Tears sparkled in her eyes, then she closed them tight, making the tears spill down her cheeks.

The ache within his vitals grew, expanding to take over his chest, tightening, making it hard to breathe. "Why not?"

She shook her head. "Oh, dear Neacal. I…" Covering her face with her hands, she broke into sobs.

Saints! 'Twas not the response he'd hoped for at all. Had he bungled this just as he'd bungled everything else in his life?

"What is it, Anna?" He rubbed her slender shoulders, wishing he could read her mind. He sensed that she held a world of pain inside her, that she was trying to escape the past just as he was, but it clung to them like spider webs.

Saints, how he wanted to hold her in his arms, to comfort her, but he couldn't now. A divide as solid as a thick stone wall stood between them. What the devil was it? Once he knew, mayhap he could destroy it.

After she got her crying under control, she lowered her hands and tried to awkwardly dry her tears on her sleeve. "You're a chief," she whispered.

He took out his clean handkerchief and handed it to her. "I'm well aware, but what difference does it make?"

Drying her tears, she shook her head. The pain gleaming in her reddened eyes carved a hole in his chest. How could he convince her?

"I would protect you and provide for you," he said.

"I know. You're a good man, Neacal. The most honorable I have ever met." The sweet affection in her eyes only made this more difficult. "But your clan would never approve of me."

Annoyance clawed at him. "Do you think I care? I'll marry the person I choose. Not who the elders advise me to marry. Of a certainty, not any of the young lasses who are visiting Bearach now."

Anna gave a brief, sad smile. "But, as a chief, you must think of your clan. A bride should bring much wealth or an important alliance to your clan. I can do neither. I'm penniless, as I'm sure you have figured out by now." She dropped her gaze.

He stroked his hand along her smooth, damp cheek. "It matters not to me. I have friends and some important alliances already. The Camerons, the MacKenzies."

"But I've heard the gossip among your clansmen, as I've already told you."

'Twas obvious what she was referring to—the fact that half his clan questioned his sanity and his ability to lead, while some were fully-fledged traitors. And they would think him even more unbalanced if he married a minstrel. Annoyance coiling through him, he sat back. "I don't give a damn about gossip. I'm the chief and I'll make the decisions about the clan and my life."

"I couldn't bear it if they voted you out because of me." She bit her bottom lip. Regardless of his annoyance at the situation, he hungered to do the same. He wanted to nibble on her lush, sensual lower lip, lick it, and devour her mouth.

Truth be told, he was tempted to throw it all away for her… the chieftainship, the castle. But if he did that, where would they live? In a hut on an island? Nay, she deserved much better. Her manners and her speech told him she'd been born to privilege, but then lost all. And that she'd had a hard life since then. She deserved to be the lady of a castle, with many servants and fine clothes. He would provide that for her.

Besides, he knew his da was watching over him, and he couldn't let him down by resigning as chief.

Neacal shook his head. "They'll not kick me out. I won't let them." Now, he was even more determined to remain chief and to be a great one. He would succeed for his father and for Anna, to give her a good life. "I refuse to give up. Do you understand what I'm saying? I didn't give up when my life hung by a thread—even though I was bloody well tempted at times. Why would I give up now? This is no great obstacle compared to what I've already survived."

Tears welled in her eyes again and she blotted at them with the handkerchief. "You're the strongest, most honorable man I've ever met, Neacal. Words cannot express how much I admire and treasure you."

He searched her eyes, wondering at the affection he saw there. Did she feel as he did? If so, he would not back down.

"Tell me aye ." He leaned forward, stroking his thumbs along her flushed cheeks. He pressed a kiss to her luscious lips. "Tell me you'll be my bride." Not giving her time to refuse him, he captured her lips.

Neacal's kiss stole Anna's reasoning ability. She was glad he didn't wait for her response, because she couldn't give him the answer he wanted. Although she wanted to say aye to his marriage proposal with every fiber of her being, she could not. In the eyes of the law, she was already married. She had to find a way to tell him, even if he hated her for it. The simple thought of causing him more pain made her chest ache.

Before she knew it, they lay upon the pallet by the warm fireplace. Good heavens! "We should stop," she said.

"Do you want me to?" He searched her eyes at close range.

The raw emotion in his midnight blue gaze stalled out her words. Of course she didn't want him to stop. To say aye would be a lie. But to say nay would be folly, so she kept her mouth shut. The last thing on earth she wanted to do was disappoint him.

He leaned in closer and whispered against her mouth. "Tell me to stop if 'tis what you desire." Then he kissed her, soft and sweet, on the lips.

What she desired was him. And though she couldn't tell him that, she was sure he felt it on her lips.

She couldn't tell him to stop while he kissed her. His need radiated outward, surrounding her. No one had needed her in a long time and this was something she'd yearned for.

She threaded his dark hair between her fingers, appreciating the thickness, as she drew him closer. Never had she been kissed in the sinful, decadent way he did it, his tongue flicking and stroking inside her mouth.

Her thoughts evaporated like mist in the beaming sunlight while he kissed her. Through her clothing, he stroked his hands along her body, over her back, the side of her hip and along her thigh. His big, strong hands caressed her with utmost gentleness.

Saints! Arousal lit up her body like a lightning storm. She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, scarcely able to control herself. His hand on her derriere, he dragged her tight against him. Feeling his arousal, she moaned and darted her tongue inside his mouth.

He rasped a curse and rolled her beneath him.

Oh, aye. She loved the heaviness of his muscles upon her, pressing her into the pallet.

He knew how to seduce her to the core of her being with long, deeply passionate kisses. He rolled aside again and tugged her skirts upward, above her knees.

Nay, she should not allow this, but his warm fingers above her stocking, caressing the bare, sensitive skin of her thigh… she sighed. He pushed her petticoats up further and stroked his palm over her hip.

Oh, how she ached and burned for him. His hand was close… so very close… tempting her. She moaned, forcing herself not to beg him. His thumb stroked, feather light, over the spot where her hip joined her thigh and downward, trailing his thumb along the inside of her thigh and upward again, brushing against her curls. She gasped, then whimpered with the unbearable need. Her leg fell aside, opening to him. The tips of his fingers slipped between her thighs, over that sensitive spot that ached for him.

"Anna," he breathed in an awed tone, then emitted a sound halfway between a growl and a moan. "So wet."

'Haps she should be mortified at her own wantonness, but she wasn't. Nor could she help herself around him. He sparked off a flaming fuse of arousal in her and it grew hotter with each eager stroke of his fingers. His tongue flicked into her mouth even as he pressed a finger inside her. Sliding in a bewitching rhythm, driving deeper with each thrust. She cried out, widening her thighs further. Her hand fisted in his hair, dragging him closer. He fed her decadent kisses and she devoured each and every one, savoring his delicious male flavor. She wanted to kiss and lick every part of him and nibble with her teeth. He held her down, his body half lying on hers, but she did not wish to escape him. She yanked him closer.

His wicked fingers worked a magic such as she'd never known existed and, before she could comprehend it, a fireball of passion burst within her, propelling her toward the stars. His mouth covered hers, smothering her cries. She was only half aware, for the bliss which claimed her was beyond anything she could remember. Once the intensity of pleasure released her, she gasped for breath. He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing against her lips, his eyes dark blue in the dim glow.

He exhaled a Gaelic oath. "That was beautiful."

"Aye." The word escaped on her breath. 'Twas all she could utter. She was awed by him and the erotic spell which he'd cast upon her. She could not grasp how such physical sensations were possible. Having been married before, she had, of course, experienced lovemaking and desire, but nothing with this intensity.

His dark, concentrated expression, lowered lashes and clenched jaw, told her he was near to the peak of arousal himself. Why had he stopped? After turning to her side, she stroked a hand down his chest to his plaid.

He caught her hand, brought it up to his lips and kissed it. He shook his head. "Not yet, bonny lass."

Confusion muddled her mind. She wished to be scorched by his fiery passion. Was he not interested in pursuing this sensual bliss further? "Why?" she asked.

"You have not yet agreed to be my wife."

But she could never be his wife. Tears filled her eyes. Neacal was a treasure and she would do anything for him, but she couldn't change the law or her past. She couldn't change despicable brutes like Blackburn who sought to control and possess her. Perhaps even kill her. And because of that beast, she had to hurt Neacal.

She closed her eyes and the hot tears trickled across her skin. She pushed her skirts down and sat up. What a wanton she was. She should be ashamed of her lack of control.

"Help me understand," he said, sitting up and propping himself against the wall behind her. "You do not fear me. You seem to like the kisses. You allow me to touch you in the most intimate of ways, and yet…"

"Of course I don't fear you." She wiped her tears away and glanced around at him. "Your kisses are spellbinding and your touch is irresistible. But…" What else could she say to discourage him except the truth? He would hate her, especially now, after she'd allowed him such liberties. She'd not possessed the strength to refuse his touch.

"But what?" he asked.

"Marriage is not so simple for a chief, is it?" Turning away, she cringed at her own diversion ploy. But what choice did she have? After the intense pleasure she'd just experienced, she was lucky to remember her own name.

"I'll make it simple," he snapped.

She winced at his sharp tone. "I don't wish you to be angry with me."

"I'm not, and I won't be."

His tone said otherwise. 'Twas easy to see he was already angry, if not with her, then with the situation.

Her throat tightened and no matter how hard she tried, she could not speak the words—the truth. She should've never allowed him into this room, for now she'd had a taste of paradise and she'd have to give him up. He would return to Bearach Castle, and she would roam around Scotland, never to see him again. She refused to ruin his life. He would need to marry an untouched young lady and have a whole herd of children with her. One of those sons would be his heir. 'Twas what chiefs required. She knew the way of things; she'd been a chief's wife, after all.

Neacal touched her face, turning it toward him. "Anna?"

"I'm sorry." She could not look him in the eye. 'Twas too painful.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"You must forget about me," she urged in a whisper.

"Why?" he demanded.

"I cannot tell you. I should've never allowed things to go this far. I hope you can forgive me."

Neacal shoved to his feet. "Aye, of course I forgive you. Although I have no inkling what I'm forgiving," he muttered, irritation grinding through him. "I vow I will never understand women."

Perhaps 'twas what he deserved, after all the wild escapades of his youth and the many lasses he'd seduced back then, not thinking of the consequences.

He knew he was insane for asking Anna to marry him so impulsively. She was keeping secrets and he didn't know enough about her.

Regardless, he couldn't do what she said and forget her. Letting her go was unthinkable. But how did he know she would stay here at the tavern once he went back to Bearach? For whatever reason, his proposal had frightened her and caused her to push him away.

"I will see you in the morn." He headed toward the door, needing to sort through his thoughts.

"Where will you sleep? You said the owner had no more rooms."

"I'll stay in the common room."

She grasped his arm. "Stay here. You may have the bed."

He shook his head, feeling torn. More than anything he wanted to stay, to sleep in the same room with her, the same bed. But 'twas not to be. "I'll be all right below." He opened the door and exited. "Lock the door," he told her before closing it behind him.

He descended the stairs and found the tavern dark. The bench seat along the wall would serve as a place to sleep for a few hours.

"Hurry and do not breathe a word of this to your mother." Korbin's voice was no more than a murmur from just outside the front door, but Neacal heard him clearly.

"Aye," William responded.

What was Korbin keeping from his wife? The man entered, closed and locked the door behind him. When he turned, his gaze landed on Neacal, seated on the bench.

"Ah. Chief! I didn't know you had returned." He proceeded behind the bar. "Did Mistress Douglas like the wine?"

"Indeed. Thank you for it." Neacal crossed the room and placed several coins on the bar. "For the first week. I hope this will cover her lodging and food."

"Your money is no good here. I beg of you, keep it!"

"Nay. 'Tis yours."

Hesitantly, he picked up the coins. "Well then, I thank you. I have to admit, times have been lean here in the village. You are most generous, m'laird."

Neacal gave a brief nod, sorry to hear Korbin was having difficulties, but at the same time, knowing he was too proud to discuss it in detail. Neacal might consider hiring one or two of Korbin's grown sons at the castle, if they had skills he could use. He would have to get to know what kind of men they were first. "A good night to you."

Korbin gave a brief bow. "Good night."

Neacal lay down and used the bedroll for a pillow. The wood beneath him was solid and uncomfortable. His shoulder pained him as it often did. The bench was too narrow and the wall too close for him to lie on his back. He turned to his other side.

Damnation, he shouldn't have asked Anna to marry him. How daft she must think him. Such an impulsive proposal. But he would give anything at the moment to be in bed with her instead of here on this hard bench alone.

Images of her—and the sensations that went along with them—played through his mind. She'd been so amorous and passionate when he'd touched her. Arousal churned through him yet again. Her willing responses to him had been beyond his wildest dreams. She'd enjoyed it and he'd certainly relished bringing her to the height of pleasure. He would've given near anything to have taken her then. But she was not a woman to have a brief tryst with. Nay, she already held his heart.

After the torture and his father's death, he'd never thought to feel joy again. But now he knew he could, and he did every time she looked at him or touched him. And the kisses… saints, he thought each time he kissed her that he'd died and ascended to heaven.

Why would she not agree to marry him? He doubted it was because he was a chief and his clan might not approve. Though 'twas a good excuse, he sensed there was something else… something far worse which held her back. He'd seen it in her tear-filled eyes, felt it in the tension emanating off her. She possessed deep, dark secrets. Why would she not confide in him? Whatever it was, she'd said she did not want to anger him. Could it be something so terrible? Was she an outlaw? Had she killed someone? Was she on the run? His mind went wild with all the horrible possibilities.

He turned onto his back and sat up. 'Twas useless to try to sleep, as was often the case. His gaze traveled over the darkened tavern and up the stairs, then toward the entry door. He'd seen Korbin lock it, but what about the back door? If someone slipped in they could strike him a deadly blow before he even knew they were about.

When he arose, a pain shot down his leg from one of the old injuries. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the ache. The kitchen was dark. After lighting a candle from the glowing embers of the hearth, he ventured into the kitchen and found the back door locked too. At least he could rest a bit easier.

He returned to the bench and sat. Leaning his head against the back, he watched Anna's door at the top of the stairs. He hoped she'd bolted it to keep out any intruders. He couldn't help that he was overly vigilant, especially when it came to her.

Sweet, luscious Anna. What was he going to do about her? He should force her to return to Bearach with him. Whatever her past, he could protect her there. She was a good woman and he knew she wouldn't have done something heinous. If she'd killed a man, she'd probably had good reason. Mayhap some brute like Farquar had attacked her before and she'd killed him. If so, 'twas self-defense. Such bastards deserved what they got for abusing those weaker than themselves.

Could that be it? Neacal needed to ask her. Rising from the seat, he paced. He wanted to ask her now, but she was most likely asleep.

He shoved his hand through his hair and paced more.

"Neacal." Someone said in a loud whisper. He glanced up to find Anna at the top of the stairs.

Even though she was still fully dressed, awareness shot through him, stirring his blood. "Aye?"

"What are you doing?"

"Naught. Why?"

She glanced all around, then motioned to him. "Sleep up here, on the pallet in my room."

Hell, he shouldn't. But he could not decline the tempting offer. His heartbeat accelerated. After grabbing his things, he climbed the stairs. 'Twas his opportunity to ask her if she'd committed a crime and, if so, to let her know that didn't matter to him.

Once inside the room, he set his things aside and spread his bedroll on the pallet, but not too close to the hearth fire. He then turned to her. Even though he was curious about why she wanted him to return, he had more important questions. "Anna, I was wondering something."

"What is it?" She appeared hesitant and guarded.

He figured 'twould be best to simply get it out of the way. "Did you kill someone?"

"What?" she gasped, her eyes incredulous. "Nay. Why would you think such a thing?"

"Pray pardon. I meant no offense. But 'tis because of the way you're behaving. You're guarded, as if you hold a deep dark secret. And I thought if you'd committed some crime, like killing someone, you probably had good reason. Self-defense, mayhap."

She shook her head and clasped her hands tightly together. "I've killed no one."

What could it be then? "Stolen something?" he asked.

"Nay," she said firmly.

"God's teeth, Anna. Tell me. You can depend on me. I'll not turn you in. I'll protect you and hide you." Though he hated allowing her to see how vexed he was, he was losing patience with her. How could she be so stubborn?

She paced from one side of the small room to the other. "I regret allowing you in here."

Someone banged on the wall from the next room. "Stop your blathering! We be trying to sleep!" 'Twas a man's voice.

She jumped, then placed a hand over her mouth, her wide gaze darting to him. "Do you think he heard what you said?" she whispered softly.

Neacal shook his head, annoyance boring a hole through his vitals. He couldn't talk to her here. "Come back to Bearach with me," he said in a low tone.

"We've already talked about this. 'Tis time to sleep." She marched to the bed and lay down, fully dressed.

Aye, he was certain she was going to sleep. Ha. He shook his head, his frustration growing.

He lay down on the pallet and stared at the ceiling in the dim glow from the fireplace. Glancing at her, he found her lying still as a stone but she was not relaxed. He felt her tension, taut as a violin string ready to snap.

"You should trust me, Anna," he murmured.

She did not respond. Had she even heard? Was she asleep already? He blew out an exasperated breath. Why the devil had she shown up at his castle and why had she captured his complete and undivided attention? As everyone said, he was mad as a loon. For him to feel this way about her with such haste surely meant his mind was not fully recovered from the torture.

He should not trust his own judgment when it came to women. 'Haps he was desperate. He'd been two years without a woman and the lack had contributed to his lunacy.

Although he didn't think he could sleep, he must have for a few hours. When he next became aware, dawn light shone through the window. After realizing where he was, he glanced at Anna lying, covered up, on the bed with her back to him. Was she sleeping?

His shoulder and arm aching, he pushed himself up from the pallet and rolled his blankets. After collecting his belongings, he glanced at Anna again. Her breathing was still deep and even. Good. He would slip out before she awoke and hopefully before anyone saw him leaving her room. Of course, Korbin would easily figure out where he'd been if he had chanced to look for Neacal in the common room.

He opened the door a crack and peered out. He saw no one about. 'Twas still early. He exited and descended the steps.

The scent of bacon, scones and other foods drifted from the kitchen, making his stomach growl. He was ready for breakfast. He set his belongings against the wall and took a seat at a table. Would Anna join him for the meal? 'Haps he should have woken her. But now 'twould be awkward between them. After all, he'd proposed and she'd refused him. Of all the bad luck… the first woman he asked to marry him and she said nay . He shook his head.

And then he'd asked her if she was a murderess or a thief. What kind of man was he? 'Twas no way to sweet-talk a woman.

"A good morrow to you, chief," Korbin said, approaching. "I'll give you breakfast on the house."

"Nonsense." Neacal took a coin from his sporran and tossed it to the man.

"I thank you. I'll bring it right out." He hastened back to his kitchen.

Neacal quickly ate and Anna still had not shown up by the time he was finished. If she was still sleeping, she must have been exhausted.

Korbin returned to his table. "Can I get you anything else, m'laird?"

"Nay. I thank you."

He clasped his hands behind his back and gave a brief bow. "I'm sorry you'll be leaving us today." Korbin did not seem sorry in the least, and his tight smile made him seem anxious. Neacal frowned. Did Korbin plan to take advantage of Anna? He remembered how the man's eyes had bugged out when he'd first seen her. His son had the same reaction. Was it lust? Or had they recognized her? He didn't see how they would know her since she wasn't from this area.

Maybe Neacal shouldn't be so quick to trust them. He had to convince Anna to return to Bearach with him.

"I thank you for the meal and the hospitality," Neacal said, observing the man.

"You're most welcome. I'm honored you stayed with us." Korbin bobbed his head, then glanced at the door. "Do you wish your horse saddled and brought 'round?"

"Indeed. I would appreciate it."

"Very good, m'laird." Trying to hide his smile, Korbin grabbed the empty trencher and rushed toward the kitchen. The man was acting strange. Why would he be so thrilled at the prospect of Neacal leaving? There was no way in hades he was leaving Anna here.

Neacal hurried up the stairs and knocked at her door. Moments later, she opened it, blinking the sleep from her eyes, looking far too adorable and disheveled.

"I'm sorry to have awakened you, lass, but this is important," Neacal whispered. "I need for you to return to Bearach Castle with me."

"Why?" She frowned, blinking up at him in a confused manner.

He glanced down the stairs but didn't see anyone. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." She stepped back allowing him to enter.

Neacal closed the door. "Korbin is acting odd. I think he or his son may be planning to take advantage of you in some way. I find suddenly that I don't trust them."

"Oh." The worried look on her face increased and she paced, biting her nails.

He hoped she would come to her senses and see reason. Surely she knew he wished to protect her. No doubt she also knew he would like to have her by his side always, considering he'd asked her to marry him. He shook his head, knowing many in his clan would think he'd lost what little was left of his mind for asking her, but he didn't regret it. If she would agree to it, he would say his vows this day.

"Could you take me to Glenfinnan?" she asked, surprising him.

"What? Why so far?"

She turned away and appeared to be staring down at her broken fingernails. "I find I must… get away from the other minstrels."

What on earth had taken place back at Bearach? It must have been something terrible, considering the way she wished to flee. "What happened? Did the piper make advances toward you?"

"Nay." Vaguely, she shook her head. "I cannot tell you."

Annoyance rammed through him. "Well then, why should I take you anywhere if you don't trust me?" he demanded. Damnation, he wished he could better control his tone of voice before the words blasted from his mouth.

"I do trust you." Her gaze connected with his, and he felt her sincerity. The honesty and faith in her mossy green eyes near took his breath.

"You contradict yourself," he murmured, wishing he could comprehend the mysteries of the female mind.

"I ken it. I am daft," she said, her voice breaking. She perched on the edge of the bed and burst into tears.

Saints! What on earth had befallen her? He inhaled a deep breath, praying for patience and understanding.

He stepped forward and knelt before her. "Anna." He stroked her arms. "You must tell me what you're so afraid of, else I cannot help you."

"I'm sorry. You must think me unbalanced."

"Well… maybe a wee bit," he said in a light tone. "But so am I."

A hint of a smile peeped out as she dried her tears.

"In truth, lass, it may not be safe here. I cannot leave you here, nor can I stay. I must get back to the clan. Let me take you with me. As soon as we arrive back, I'll send the visiting clans on their way. You need not associate with them."

With watery, reddened eyes, she searched his. "Do you promise?" she whispered.

This was what she wanted so badly? He'd been right, then. She obviously knew one of the visitors. After the other clans left, he would try to convince Anna to tell him who or what had so terrified her.

"Aye, of course, I promise," he said.

"I thank you. I owe you more than I could ever repay."

"You owe me naught." Beyond anything, he wanted to kiss her but he needed to take her away from here immediately. He arose and stepped back. "If you'll collect your belongings, we'll leave forthwith. My horse is being saddled."

She rushed about the room and gathered her things into a sack.

"You have not yet eaten," he said.

"I still have some apples in my sack."

"I'm sure Korbin has a couple of freshly baked bannocks or scones. Wouldn't you prefer that?"

"Aye." After putting on her cloak, she tossed the sack over her shoulder. "That is… if you trust him not to poison us."

Neacal frowned, thinking of the food he'd eaten. "I ate a large breakfast and I feel fine. I don't think he wishes to kill either of us."

"I'm glad."

He took the sack from her and opened the door. She headed out and down the stairs while he followed.

Korbin stood in the common room as they approached, his eyes again wide as he observed Anna. "M'laird, your horse is saddled and ready. Mistress, surely you are not leaving us, too."

"Indeed. Unfortunately, I will not get to stay."

"Do you have some fresh bannocks or a couple of scones Anna could take to break her fast?" Neacal asked.

"Eh… aye, I believe I do. Wait here." He trotted into the kitchen.

Neacal hoped the man hurried. He wanted to get going soon, while the weather was still good. He'd glimpsed some dark clouds on the horizon earlier. It wouldn't take long to travel back to Bearach, perhaps half a day.

Though he was not sure what it was, something made him uneasy. Neacal paced, glancing toward the kitchen from time to time. "What the devil is taking him so long? Surely he is not baking more scones."

"'Tis all right. I'm not very hungry," Anna said, then her stomach growled.

Neacal slid her a sideways glance. "Do not tell me fibs, lass. I ken you must be starving." Annoyed, he headed toward the kitchen to see what the holdup was. No one was there.

"Korbin?" Neacal proceeded to the back door, opened it a crack and peered out. Korbin stood at some distance from the tavern, conversing with a younger man. They talked quietly, their heads together.

Neacal's skin prickled. Damnation, they had to leave now. After easing the door closed again, he returned to the common room. "Come. Korbin is acting very strangely. We must leave immediately."

They hastened outside to Neacal's horse, where it stood saddled and waiting for him. Dunn sat beside him, then leapt up, tail wagging, as they approached. "A good morn to you, Dunn."

Glancing up, Neacal saw that the darkest clouds were still at a distance toward the west.

He secured his bedroll to the saddle, along with his bow and arrows and Anna's sack of belongings. He turned to her, ready to lift her onto the pillion cushion when loud footsteps clunking on the cobblestones drew his attention. Three men strode toward him.

The strangers, dressed alike, wore brown breeches, green doublets and sashes of an unusual gold and red plaid. Each man wore a sword and baldric, as well as various daggers and knives sheathed upon their belts. Obviously, they were guards, or henchmen from some clan far from here. Their gazes shifted from him to Anna beside him.

"Dear heavens," she whispered and yanked the cowl more fully over her head.

"'Tis her!" one of the men shouted.