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time she took a bite of food or drank from her goblet his eyes found her mouth, a mouth he wanted to taste desperately.
    Fallon cursed and rose to his feet. He had to leave or risk going to Larena and kissing her in front of everyone. He might have stayed away from people for three hundred years, but even he knew that would be frowned upon.
    No sooner had he started toward the doors than he saw her exit in front of him. Too curious for his own good and powerless to control his desire, Fallon followed her. As he let the great hall doors close behind him he saw her walk down the long corridor. Alone.
    Unable to help himself, he pursued her. Her strides were long and purposeful as she moved through the castle. Fallon kept to the shadows, not wanting her to see him. He wanted to learn more about her. He tried to tell himself it was in order to discover why she wanted to speak with him, but Fallon knew it for the lie that it was.
    He simply wanted to know more.
    And so he hid in the shadows and listened as a man blocked her path. The man was dressed not in a kilt, but some revolting extravagance of velvet and stockings with padded breeches that stopped at his knees. In short, he looked ridiculous.
    The man had a lecherous smile aimed at Larena, his intentions clear. Larena dodged his hands and raised a brow when he tried to kiss her.
    “I cannot tell you how many times I’ve watched men try to get the better of her.”
    Fallon turned to find the man who had been in the garden with Larena. He cursed himself for being so engrossed in a woman that he hadn’t heard someone approach.
    The man gave him a friendly smile. “I’m Malcolm Monroe.”
    “The lady’s brother. Shouldn’t you help her?”
    Malcolm folded his arms over his chest. “She can handle herself or I would ensure the man might never have children.”
    Fallon watched the tall, blond Highlander. There was something very amiable about him. Maybe it was his blue eyes that seemed so honest and open, much like Quinn’s had been when he’d been a lad. Time and Deirdre had changed that.
    “There is much you do not know, Fallon MacLeod.”
    Fallon raised a brow at Malcolm. “You know me?”
    “You’re new to Edinburgh Castle. Everyone knows you.”
    “And why I’m here?”
    Malcolm shrugged indifferently. “Gossip does travel swiftly.”
    “So what is it I don’t know?” Fallon asked. He turned to face Malcolm fully. His first instinct about the man was that he liked him, but appearances could be deceiving.
    Larena’s brother was just an inch or so shorter than Fallon, but his wide shoulders and thick chest told Fallon he wasn’t a dandy, but a Highlander who was used to hard work.
    The smile dropped from Malcolm’s face. “Larena isn’t the woman people think she is. The castle gossips. Men hunger for things they cannot have. Women, in their vindictiveness, spread rumors that aren’t true.”
    “That is true enough.”
    “Larena needs to talk to you. She doesna seek men out, MacLeod, they come to her. If she tells you she has something to discuss with you, then I would listen to what she has to say.”
    “Do you know what she wants to talk to me about?”
    Malcolm shrugged again. “It isn’t for me to say. All I ask is that you doona judge her. We all wear guises in some fashion.” He bowed and started to turn when he paused. “I’ve heard that Iver sent a missive to the king. If you’ve pinned your hopes on Iver’s helping you, you chose the wrong noble. King James tends to ignore Iver, as most of us do. I do know someone, however, that the king will listen to.”
    Fallon wasn’t fooled for a moment. “I told Iver not to send the missive, but apparently the idiot doesna listen well. Tell me why the king would listen to you?”
    “A fair question,” Malcolm said with a smile. “My family, the Monroes, are in good standing with the king. I’ve traveled to London twice to see him. He will listen to me.”
    Fallon still didn’t like the