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own muscles tensed in answering fear.
    Sassenach ... the blond Devin was obviously a fugitive, fleeing British law, and she . . . she was alone. A witness to his secret.
    At the hissed string of oaths under Tade Kilcannon's breath, her throat constricted. The heart-stopping smile had vanished, the lines carved deep at the sides of his mouth sweeping away all vestiges of the amused rakehell who had pulled her from the water. The face slanting toward her now glittered with a thin veneer of danger, and something more. Fear? That was absurd. From the first she had sensed that Tade Kilcannon was a man who courted death, laughed at it. Then why. . .?
    Her eyes flicked to the tall, slender figure beside him, a shiver going through her. Merciful God, of what horrible crime must this Devin be guilty, if he was being hunted so relentlessly? To what lengths would Tade go to protect him? Devin had called him brother. Was that bond of blood to be sealed with her own? Tade and Devin's great love for each other had been evident the moment the man had stepped from behind the boulder. Maryssa swallowed hard. If she had a brother who loved her like that—whom she loved—she would wield a knife herself to protect him.
    Her gaze leaped to Tade's face, and she was suddenly aware that even the cries of the night birds had died.
    A wind-gnarled branch sheltering a break in the underbrush beckoned her with mocking fingers, promising freedom, but taunting her with the image of Tade's long, muscular legs, legs that would no doubt be swift and sure, while her own were not. Her sopping wet skirts tangled tight around her ankles. The silk was so heavy. Every nerve in her body jumped and quivered as she tensed to run.
    "Damn it, Dev, what are we going to—" Tade's face angled toward the other man for just an instant, giving Maryssa the chance she needed. The toe of her shoe bit into the turf, her skirts clutched her like the arms of a terrified child as she dashed for freedom. She had scarcely taken two steps before hands dug into her shoulders whipping her around to meet a face that was hard and ruthless, yet oddly more vulnerable than she'd ever seen it.
    "Where the hell do you think you're going?" Blood rushed to Maryssa's temples in a dizzying wave as her head snapped back, her face so close to Tade ’s rage-flushed features that his breath singed her skin.
    "Please. Let me—"
    "Let you? Aye, and I should let you, by God. Let you bolt into the woods so you can finish getting yourself killed. Then you couldn't . . ." Maryssa felt his fingers tighten, and pain shot through her shoulders, yet she sensed that there was more desperation than anger in Tade Kilcannon's big hands.
    "I won't say anything," she promised. "I'll just start walking. Find a house."
    "A house?" Tade snorted in disgust. "It's ten miles to the nearest cottage, and every step harboring a dozen men who would cut your English throat as easily as they'd crush a flower, and do it with a good deal more pleasure. I should have saved myself the trouble and let you drown."
    "Tade." Devin's soft, almost chiding voice seemed lost on the man standing before her, only the snapping taut of a muscle in Tade's jaw betraying that he had heard. The shadowed eyes flicked to the water. Devin's tone sharpened. "Tade."
    “Damn it!" He seemed to hurl the words, almost in defiance, as he wheeled on his brother. "What in the hell do you want me to do, Dev? Throw her on a horse and point her to the nearest English garrison?"
    "No," Maryssa pleaded, her fingertips touching the rigid muscles in his forearm. "I won't say anything. Tell anyone. You saved my life. I give you my word.”
    "Your word?" Tade spat, glaring. "That comforts me immensely. I've heard enough English lies to know full well the value of your promise. Most likely you'd not even stop to change your slippers before you went running to the captain of the guard."
    "I wouldn't. I'd—"
    "Dance at my hanging? Thank you, but I'd rather not