"And what were you doing?"

"Answering her questions about your wife. I assumed she was worried about her, but she insisted she wasn't worried at all. She explained that if Brenna had been in serious trouble, she would have sent her medallion to one of her sisters or brothers. Because she didn't, her mother knew she was safe. She was worried about you, though, and sent a message to you."

"What is it?"

"Treat her well or answer to her family. They had all heard what happened to Lady Brenna's escort, of course, and she assured me the baron hadn't realized what a monster the laird was. Oh, and you're going to love this. You have his gratitude for rescuing his daughter."

Connor shook his head. An Englishman's gratitude? What in thunder was he supposed to make of that?

"What about Faith?"

"She has vanished. Her mother was worried until MacNare's soldiers showed up. They had no advance warning, she explained, and they searched every corner of the keep looking for her. The mother believes someone came to her assistance. She thinks she knows who the savior is too."

"Who is he?"

"You."

"Didn't she wonder then why you were there instead of me?"

"She didn't seem to."

"What am I going to tell my wife, Quinlan? I can't continue to keep her in the dark about her sister. Eventually she'll find out from someone else. Gossip travels like the wind in the Highlands."

"You'd be right about that. In fact, it sounds as if someone heard about this situation and got to Faith before we did. I doubt it was one of her brothers. He wouldn't let his mother worry so. He'd tell her, wouldn't he?"

"I would assume so. There's only one other man I can think of who would go to such trouble on Brenna's behalf."

"Who?"

"My brother. This sounds like something he would do, doesn't it?"

"He hates England."

"But he's fond of my wife," Connor said. "I must talk to him before I tell Brenna anything. God willing, Alec has her sister tucked away somewhere. Did you have anything else to report?"

He shrugged. "Mi'lady's mother sent gifts for her daughter, and she…"

"And she what?" he asked, wondering over his hesitation.

"She kissed me on the cheek. I didn't want to shove her away. She's mi'lady's mother, after all, but I… This isn't funny, Connor. It was awkward. She told me the kiss was for her daughter and she expects me to… give it to her."

"She wants you to kiss my wife?" Connor wasn't laughing now.

"Yes."

"You're not going to."

"No, of course not."

The conversation ended then and there. The two warriors rode to the southwestern tip of the border where the latest attack had occurred.

Aeden arrived an hour later. Shouting at his laird, he dismounted and came running.

"Your wife is fine, Laird," he blurted out. "But there was trouble."

Connor stood perfectly still and didn't say a word until Aeden had recounted everything that had happened. The soldier also repeated every word Brenna had said, and by the time he finished, Connor was in such a rage, he was shaking with it.

"Where is my wife now?"

"With the Kincaids. Crispin's with her. He put Donald in charge of the keep."

"Is Brenna all right?"

"Yes, she is."

"You're certain?"

"I'm certain."

Connor tried to push his fear aside so he could concentrate. "And Euphemia?" he asked, his manner deadly calm now, for on the surface, he appeared to be in complete control.

"Crispin expects her to take her son's body back north for burial."

"Is Brenna…"

"She's fine," Aeden told him once again. "I wouldn't lie to you. She's needing stitches, and she was badly beaten, but she's going to survive. The women wanted to go with her. Donald had his hands full making them stay inside the fortress."

It took all of Connor's strength not to double over and let out a roar of anguish. He should have been with her. He should have known what was happening. The bastard. He dared to touch her.

"Laird, what would you like me to do?" Aeden asked.

Connor made himself think about the problems at hand. Aeden had to repeat his question a second time before his laird could answer him.

He called to Douglas, the senior of the soldiers guarding the border and told him he was in charge. "Move the last of Hugh's clan tonight. As soon as you're finished, all of the MacAlisters are to return home. Aeden will assist you."

"And you, Laird?" the soldier asked.

"I'm going to my wife. Quinlan, take over the watch at home until I get back."

Quinlan stayed by Connor's side while the other soldier ran to do his laird's bidding.

Connor suddenly called out to Aeden. "She told my wife to submit to him?" he roared. He didn't wait for a second confirmation but caught hold of his horse's reins, swung up on his back, and took off at a full gallop.

Quinlan followed him. His plan was to protect his laird's back until they reached the point where he would have to turn north for home, while Connor continued on to the Kincaids.

Connor took the fastest route, cutting up along the border, and when he was well away from his other soldiers, he let out a cry that sounded like a wounded animal.

Euphemia. He couldn't even say her name without wanting to draw his sword. She would never call herself a MacAlister again, never wear the plaid she had violated, and never come near them again.

Quinlan expected his laird to turn to the east, as they were now parallel to his fortress, and was therefore taken by surprise when he stopped instead.

"Connor?" he asked as he pulled up beside him. "You're going to have to shake off your anger until after you've seen your wife. I know you feel you've abandoned her, but she'll understand you didn't have any choice. She loves you," he added with a nod. "Quit staring at the ground and look at me."

"Look down," Connor snapped.

He humored his laird and did just that. Then he let out a low expletive. "There are fresh tracks."

"Four horses… no, five," Connor altered. "They're going slow, in a single line. Who…"

"How many did Aeden tell us came back with Raen?"

"Three," Connor answered. He jerked upright then. "The bastard's mother could be on her way home now. Pity, I would have liked to talk to her."

"You'd end up killing her," Quinlan said.

Connor shook his head. "No, death would be too kind. I want her to suffer for as many years as she has left."

"If it's Raen's burial party, why would they take the opposite path? They have to know they're going the wrong way."

"I don't know."

"The tracks are fresh enough for us to catch up with them in little time at all. We should know where they're headed, shouldn't we?"

Connor nodded. "We'll follow the tracks, but only for a few minutes. I need to get to Brenna."

"I know you do. I'd start practicing," he said as they once again goaded their mounts into a gallop.

"Practicing what?" Connor shouted.

"Telling her you love her."

Connor rode on ahead and cut through a section of the forest to shorten the distance to the rise above the slope ahead so that he could see how far away Euphemia was. When he broke through the trees, he dismounted and ran ahead to watch the procession below.

Quinlan caught up with him a minute later.

A long, narrow meadow stretched out below. It was the funeral party all right, and Raen was draped over the last horse in the line as they moved forward.

Connor's attention was drawn to the trees. Something had moved, he was sure of it. He waited, and a few minutes later, when the five reached the edge of the flat, a figure stepped out from his hiding place.

Both he and Quinlan recognized MacNare at once. Stunned and enraged, they watched Euphemia dismount and run forward to embrace her ally.

They knew who the traitor was.