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‘Tis time to continue.”
    “You said your lord does not wish to be wed,” she said desperately. “You can let me go now, and I will say naught.”
    “I must admit ye are no’ what I thought to be bringing to my laird,” he said, his gaze wandering over her face and her rather large size caused by her several layers of clothes.
    The observation wounded. To be disparaged by a criminal Maclean was adding insult to injury.
    “You, sir, are a brigand and thief and have no right to judge me.”
    Archibald grimaced. “Ye should be grateful to avoid a wedding with a Campbell,” he said. “Any good Scot would say so.”
    The words confirmed the seriousness of her situation. What would happen when they learned who she was?
    They could not. They simply could not discover she was not Janet Cameron.
    Not until she escaped again.
    But she realized it would not be as easy as it had been when she’d had Janet’s help.
    The Camerons had not known what she intended. They had trusted her.
    This man would not do that. He had taken her captive and meant to keep her one until she did their bidding.
    If she succumbed too easily, would she be suspected?
    Or should she fight them?
    Humility and fear would disarm them. Would allow her to escape again.
    She forced tears, hiding the hurt and rage within her.
    She really wanted to stab the bloody man with a sword. No’ what I thought, indeed .
    Mayhap she would get the chance.
    That thought produced a momentary satisfaction. The Macleans would discover this Campbell had a sting.
    Chapter 4
    The sound of the horn echoed through the keep.
    It was followed by a shout, “Riders approaching!”
    The alarm came from the rampart, then echoed as other Macleans took up the call.
    Rory left his supper and took the stone steps quickly to join the sentry.
    Rain had fallen most of the day, but the sun had peeked between the clouds in the past hour. It was setting now, coloring the sky with scarlet and golden hues. Shadows made it difficult to identify the riders approaching the gate, but one was obviously Archibald. No one could mistake his size.
    Rory signaled his men to open the gate and watched his riders file inside. Archibald led a white mare that was carrying a small but bulky figure.
    A woman!
    Rory suddenly understood the sly looks, the evasive answers.
    His men had stolen a bride for him.
    Such actions were not that unusual in Scotland, he knew. Brides had been stolen before. But he had made his feelings about marriage very clear.
    His hands clenched into fists.
    His clansmen would not have dared disobey his father, or Patrick. Rory was an unproven leader to them, but by God, they would learn now.
    “Find Douglas,” he told the man standing next to him. “Tell him to meet me in the courtyard.”
    He strode toward the stairs, took them quickly, and reached the riders as they dismounted.
    Archibald stood in front of him and removed his helmet.
    “What is the lady doing here?” Rory demanded, his anger barely contained.
    “I…”
    Douglas appeared at his side. “Rory?”
    Rory turned on him. “What have you done?”
    “Milord,” Archibald said in a low voice. “Douglas did nothing. It was my doing alone. We brought you Janet Cameron to be your bride. She is said to be pleasing and gentle.”
    Only then did Rory look up at the rider on the white mare. Her back was ramrod straight, and she was covered head to toe by a fur cloak and hood that protected her face from the cold. He wondered if she had heard Archibald’s words.
    He went to her side and offered his hand to her. She ignored it and started to dismount on her own. He caught her by her waist and eased her down, surprised at how much lighter she was than she looked. “My apologies, my lady,” he said.
    She looked at him with dark blue eyes that were quite remarkable. They roiled with emotion, but he could not decipher it. Fear? Anger? A combination?
    He tried to reassure her. “My men acted without my approval. I will be