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hadn’t hurt her, in truth. It was her own traitorous nature that caused her pain. How could she have found delight in his kisses? What type of woman was she, to fall over on her back for the fiercest enemy she’d ever known? She could not betray her parents in such a way. It was one thing to submit to one’s husband, but quite another to relish his caress. Self-loathing overwhelmed her.
    Myles’s breathing steadied. When it was rhythmic and deep, she gathered a blanket and went to make a bed down by the fire. She’d not rest next to him if she had an ounce of will to resist it. She laid her head upon the cold floor, certain sleep would never come.
    But come it must have, for after a while, she felt herself being lifted up in strong arms and tucked into a soft, warm place. A gentle voice whispered in her ear, “Come sleep in the bed, you silly girl. You’re safe from me.”
    “Fiona is none the wiser, and the better off for her ignorance, John,” Simon whispered as they sat in the hall, long after the last of the guests had fallen asleep. “She would betray us without even realizing.”
    John rubbed a tiny scar along his jaw. “Do you think he’ll kill her when they learn what we’re about?”
    Simon drained his goblet of wine. “Perhaps. But she’ll not last a fortnight if she doesn’t keep civil that tongue of hers. He may silence her for that alone.”
    John’s brows pinched together. “How easily you jest about our sister’s destiny.”
    Simon sighed with impatience. “Yes, I jest, John. Would you have me keen and wail like the women? We must behave as though we have accepted this. If the Campbells smell deceit, we are done for. We need time, and we need their trust.”
    “Still, if Fiona knew her days with them were temporary, she could steel herself and not lose hope.”
    Simon shook his head. “We cannot risk it. It will take months to band together the Highland chiefs and prepare for an assault. As distasteful as it is, it’s better for Fiona to believe we have given her over to them.” He took another draught of the wine, spilling some on his tunic in his haste. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth and handed the glass to John. “Drink, brother. Today we have cut in half the number of our enemies.”
    John took the wine. “Until we double them again by attacking the king.”

CHAPTER 5

    T HE NEXT MORNING, Fiona rode away from the only home she’d ever known.
    Her green cloak dulled the wind’s fierce bite, but did nothing to ease the cold piercing from the inside out, like icy waves breaking on the shores of Moray Firth. Her good-bye with Margaret had been cut brutally short by Cedric’s declaration that they must depart after the morning meal. But perhaps, after all, that was best. She sought to show only a brave face to her little sister, but the effort had drained Fiona like a bloodletting.
    The brevity of her farewell to Simon and John troubled her less. Their inquisitive, falsely sympathetic gazes stirred no forgiveness within her, nor did it bring moisture to her eyes. She did not weep when her brothers and the Campbell chief examined the bedsheets, seeking evidence of her lost virginity. But now, outside the village walls, away from her people, she let the tears flow, hot and bitter, scalding away her Sinclair identity. She was a Campbell now, wedded and bedded, and all but banished from her homeland by her brothers’ shortsighted cowardice.
    How long would this truce hold? A week? A month? A year, perhaps? Simon and John were gullible as sheep if they thought peace would spread as easily as her thighs. How long beforeCedric’s lust for twisting his blade into a Sinclair heart surfaced and the feuding erupted once more? In the end, she would have been sacrificed for nothing.
    The wind spun again, sending up the musky scent of horses on the move. The steady clip-clop of their hooves mixed with the chatter of the traveling party. Both man and beast seemed glad to be heading