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their best route for the mission. His gaze kept straying to the lovely lass drying by the fire. Flaming gold, her hair moved in the breeze.
    “We can still make Yorkshire by noon tomorrow if we leave at dawn,” Ewan said. “Today proves we aren’t welcome in England.”
    “Aye,” Caden agreed. “We best keep off the main road.”
    Donald jogged up to them, stopped, and moved back and forth between his feet.
    “Donald, do you need to take a piss, man?” Ewan asked.
    “Nay,” he answered breathlessly. “The lass, well, she well, she said—”
    “Spit it out,” Ewan said, a smile softening his rebuke.
    Donald swallowed hard. “She says her name is Meg Boswell. She wants us to escort her to the Munros.”
    Caden stared hard at Donald. The muscles in his chest contracted, his breath halted.
    “That…that would make her Alec Munro’s niece, right?” Donald asked.
    “That would, indeed,” Ewan said slowly, as if tasting some new brew of mead.
    All three men turned toward the mystery woman sitting as royal as one could sit naked beneath a wool blanket. She couldn’t be, could she? She was English. They were close to Yorkshire and traveling near the main road in and out of Scotland.
    Caden strode across the clearing, barely aware that Ewan and Donald followed. His legs stretched out before him, his muscles taut.
    She didn’t resemble Alec Munro. In fact she was quite opposite the obstinate, stab-you-where-you-stand, burly Highlander with his red hair and fuzzy beard.
    She watched them walk over to her. Caden stared down at her. Was she really Alec Munro’s beloved niece?
    She cleared her throat. “Donald and I were talking about how you could use my help treating the injured while you journey back to the Highlands. I would like to strike a deal with you. My help for your escort to my aunt’s home.” She paused. “I will not interfere with your mission here in England.”
    Caden’s hands fisted at his sides. “I would have yer name if ye will be traveling with us.” He watched her face for any signs of dishonesty. “Yer Christian name.”
    Her chin rose a bit, displaying the lovely line of her throat. The splash of firelight on her exposed neck darkened with a blush. “I didn’t tell you my name before because I thought it was prudent not to give strangers that information while I traveled.”
    “Traveled alone ,” Caden reprimanded.
    Annoyance flashed through her eyes but she covered it with a tight smile. “I travel with my wolf and my mount. Not alone.”
    Ewan opened his mouth to say something, but Caden raised his hand to stop him. “Yer Christian name, milady.”
    “My name is…Meg Boswell.”
    “Niece to Alec Munro?” Caden shot out, his blood surging within. His hands clasped and unclasped at his sides.
    She glanced at Donald, who still fidgeted, and then back to Caden. “My mother’s sister is married to the Munro chief. I wish to journey to their holding. Donald has said that their land borders yours.”
    “I told ye,” Donald said beneath his breath.
    The woman pushed off the ground to stand. Caden’s gaze moved over her slight frame, down to the bare little toes that squeezed upon each other in the grass.
    “I understand having a woman along may seem odd, but I promise not to interfere with your mission—”
    “Our mission is completed,” Caden said abruptly. His fists clenched.
    “Well, then, I couldn’t possibly interfere. I will just take care of your injured and will follow you back to the Highlands. A mutual gain.”
    A gust of wind scattered wood smoke this way and that. Several of the lass’s curls tugged free of the blanket and floated out around her face. She looked like she’d been tupped, her hair in beautiful disarray. He could imagine it fanned out across the soft fur on his bed. One side of the blanket slipped, exposing the creamy milk-white skin of her shoulder. Caden’s jaw ached.
    “Have we set a bargain, then?” She chewed a bit on that luscious