2 TOO DEEP A SCAR

ASTRID TENSED, HEAT igniting in her belly. She then cut her brother a sharp look. "MacDonald is needed here, Loch," she replied, her voice sharpening. "Send someone else with me to Skye."

MacDonald . Even referring to the whoreson by his clan-name choked her.

She had to focus on getting to Skye as swiftly as possible, and on gaining their allies' assistance. It was bad enough she had to suffer Finn's presence daily, for, as Captain of the Duart Guard, he worked closely with the laird. But the thought of traveling with him pushed her over the edge.

His sneering company was the last thing she needed on such an important mission.

This was her chance to prove herself to her brother—to herself—and she didn't want anything, or anyone, jeopardizing it.

The previous autumn, Loch had tried to force a marriage upon her, brokering an alliance with the Mackinnons of Dùn Ara and promising her to the clan-chief. Astrid had fought Loch and even tried to run away, but he'd refused to relent. Eventually, it had all gotten too much, and to her infinite shame, she'd sickened.

Even now, her pulse quickened, and her palms turned clammy, at the memory of the despair that had swallowed her, the darkness that had closed in.

Was that how she reacted in a crisis? She merely crumbled?

No, she had to find a way to drive this weakness out of her.

In the end, after finally reading the missive their father had left him, and after realizing his sister would die if he pressed things, Loch relented—severing the promise he'd made Kendric Mackinnon and making an enemy of him. In the months that followed, brother and sister had slowly rebuilt the shattered trust between them. Nevertheless, Loch had a bullish streak. When he set his mind on something, he wouldn't be moved.

Loch's gaze narrowed now. She didn't usually speak to him in such an acerbic fashion—not these days—but Astrid hadn't been able to contain herself. He knew she loathed the Captain of the Duart Guard, and yet he was about to force his company on her.

"I can spare him," he replied. "I've just hired a new marshal … and I shall also manage the Guard myself while Finn is away." Her brother paused then, his gaze fusing with hers. "I want to ensure yer safety on the trip, Astrid … and Finn's the only man I'd trust with yer care."

Heat washed over Astrid at these words, and it took all her self-control not to snort a bitter laugh. Unfortunately, her brother was close to Finn—and was blind to his flaws.

Her gut clenched then. The fact remained that Finn MacDonald had gotten away with murder . He'd taken her best friend, Maggie Garvie, away from her.

"Yer sister is right, Loch … choose someone else for this mission," Finn spoke up then. As often, his tone was off-hand, dismissive. "We won't work well together … ye know that."

Astrid started at this statement. Her enemy had spoken the truth, although he didn't usually acknowledge the hostility that boiled between them.

Silence fell in the solar. Meanwhile, Mairi's gaze flicked nervously between Loch, Astrid, and Finn's faces, her eyes shadowed now.

Astrid was aware the tension that filled a room whenever she and Finn occupied it at the same time must be tiring. All the same, she couldn't help it.

The man was a murderous snake. His very presence here was an offense to Maggie's memory.

Loch eventually shattered the silence, his curse reverberating off the stone walls.

Astrid flinched. Her brother usually kept his temper, yet his peat-dark eyes—the same shade as her own—were narrowed now as he stared Finn down. "Enough," he growled. "This nonsense has gone on for too long."

Astrid's already fast pulse jolted. " Nonsense ?" she gasped .

Loch's attention cut to his sister. "Eleven years ago, a tragedy rocked our community when Maggie drowned," he ground out. "And aye, it was fresh and raw then, and ye had every right to vent yer spleen. But those days are long gone, and the tension between ye and Finn affects everyone here."

Anger washed over Astrid in a blistering wave. Her brother made her sound unreasonable. "Time doesn't matter," she countered. "Some wrongs leave too deep a scar."

Astrid deliberately didn't look Finn's way as she spoke, despite that she could feel his stare boring into her. She could taste his scorn.

"That's right," Finn murmured then. "They do."

Astrid stiffened, her heart racing now. She didn't like the intimation in his voice, as if she had wronged him . Aye, she'd incited the locals at Craignure into violence after Maggie's death—but someone had to do something. She hated that Finn acted like the injured party. He wasn't the victim of injustice, Maggie was. It galled her that he'd never paid for his crime.

However, Loch's expression was now intractable.

A pit opened in Astrid's belly when she realized her brother wasn't going to relent.

"I don't deny the dislike ye two have for each other." His voice hardened then. "But there is no place for it here. War casts its shadow over us all … in the weeks to come, everything might change for the Macleans. We need to stop fighting amongst ourselves and focus on the Mackinnons." He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping from his sister to his friend. "End it now … for I won't tolerate ye at each other's throats any longer."

"Curse ye, Loch!" Astrid let the knife fly from her hand, watching as it embedded in the cloth-covered round of wood on the far wall of her bedchamber. "Ye could have sent anyone with me … just not him! "

Lord, she'd come close to losing her temper in the solar earlier. A red veil had dropped over her eyes when Loch made it clear he wouldn't discuss the matter any longer .

Finn had looked as incensed as her. His lean face was pale and taut, his mouth thin, as he'd turned on his heel and stalked from the solar. The captain couldn't linger in their presence anyway, for he had plenty to organize before their departure. At dawn, they'd be setting off in one of the clan-chief's birlinns, the Sea Eagle , on a journey that would take them two full days.

Breathing hard, Astrid whipped out a second knife from the belt she wore around her hips. Shortly, her maid, Gordana, would come up and they would pack a couple of bags with essentials for the trip. But for the moment, Astrid had some time alone—and the first thing she'd done was draw out her dirk and belt of throwing knives before laying them reverently on the bed.

She wouldn't be going anywhere without her weapons.

Astrid glanced over at the dirk lying atop the coverlet, its long thin blade encased in a leather scabbard. Her father's marshal had given her a knife-wielding lesson on her sixteenth birthday, and soon afterward, the laird himself had agreed to have a dirk and throwing knives made especially for his strong-willed daughter.

Astrid's lips thinned then. Loch didn't like her bearing weapons. However, it made sense for her to have something to defend herself with when traveling. Her brother wouldn't approve of her practicing with her throwing knives either—but what Loch didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

She'd worked hard to excel at knife-throwing over the years Loch had been away at war, and she was loath to lose her skills.

Jaw clenching, Astrid looked away from her dirk and sighted the target.

It was difficult though, for when she raised her hand, she noticed it was shaking.

Curse it, she hated how sensitive she was—how easily life knocked her around. Sometimes it felt as if she were clinging on by her fingertips.

She was all churned up inside now, a storm of emotions battling each other. Outrage and upset that her wishes had been ignored. Anxiety at the news that Kendric Mackinnon was bearing down upon Dounarwyse Castle with a fleet of birlinns—he'd have arrived at his destination by now—and guilt that she was focused on her hate for Finn while the enemy was breathing down their necks.

Astrid drew in a slow, deep breath, in an attempt to calm herself.

Satan's cods, how was she going to weather his company?

"It'll only be a few days. Ye don't have to talk to the bastard," she ground out, her grip tightening on her knife hilt. Her gut twisted then at her brother's insistence that the pair of them end their feud.

She couldn't put the past aside—not after what Finn had done—but she'd have to be quieter about her loathing for him in the future. Her brother had made it clear that he wouldn't tolerate either of them bringing their personal grievances into his home any longer.

It galled her to swallow her rage, yet she'd heed him.

Deep down, she understood why Loch had taken such a firm stance. It wasn't fair on Mairi either, the way she and Finn snarled and glowered at each other. And it had gotten worse of late, as if the resentment between them were a pot of boiling milk, about to spill over.

Muttering another curse under her breath, Astrid tried to focus on practicing with her knives.

Lining herself up as Donald, the old marshal, had shown her, she positioned herself with one leg before the other, her weight on the opposite leg to her throwing arm. Sighting the target once more, she breathed slowly, waiting until her hand steadied. Then, she brought the blade back behind her shoulder and swung it in an arc, releasing the blade halfway. The small narrow blade flew from her hand, spinning through the air before it thudded into the center of the target.

A thin smile compressed Astrid's mouth as she imagined the knife had just embedded itself to the hilt in Finn MacDonald's chest.