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to keep his patience. She felt sympathy for him, she truly did. If it were her child, she’d demand, just as he had, every detail. And if it were true—and Ewan had no reason to lie—that Duncan Cameron was his mortal enemy, she could well understand why he looked at her with such mistrust and hatred. Aye, she understood well his dilemma. It didn’t mean she was suddenly going to cooperate, however.
    Gathering her nerve, and hoping she didn’t sound boastful, she looked the laird in the eye. “I did save your son, Laird. I would be most appreciative of what aid you could provide. I won’t ask for much. A horse and maybe some food. I’ll be on my way and no longer a bother.”
    Ewan no longer stared at her. Nay, he turned his face heavenward as if praying for either patience or deliverance. Maybe both.
    “A horse. Food.”
    He said the words, still looking up at the sky. Then he slowly lowered his head until those green eyes scorched the breath right out of her.
    “You aren’t
going
anywhere, lass.”

C HAPTER 4

    Ewan stared at the woman before him, and it was all he could do not to shake her senseless. The little chit had audacity, he’d hand her that. He didn’t know what hold she had on his son, but he’d soon get to the bottom of it.
    Even Alaric seemed under her spell, and while he could understand it, because Lord, the lass was bonnie, it annoyed him that his brother sought to defend her against him.
    She turned her chin up farther in defiance and the light caught her eyes. Blue. Not just blue but a brilliant hue that reminded him of the sky in spring just before summer took hold.
    Her hair was bedraggled but the curls hung all the way down to her waist, a waist he could span with his hands. Aye, his hands would fit nicely in the curve between her hips and her breasts, and if he slid his hands up just a bit, he’d cup the generous swell of her bosom.
    She was beautiful. And she was trouble.
    She was also in pain. She hadn’t faked that.
    Her eyes dimmed and he got a better view of the shadows that surrounded them. She was trying valiantly to hide her discomfort, but it radiated from her in almost discernible waves.
    Her questioning would have to wait.
    He raised his hand and motioned toward one of the women gathered on the perimeter.
    “See to her needs,” he ordered. “Have a bath drawn. See that Gertie prepares her a plate of food. And for God’s sake, give her something other than Cameron’s colors to wear.”
    Two of the McCabe women hurried forward and each took an arm of the woman still standing by Alaric.
    “Careful now,” Alaric cautioned. “Her injuries are still paining her.”
    The women removed their hands and instead gestured toward her to precede them into the keep. She looked nervously around, and it was clear she had no desire to go in. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth until Ewan was sure she’d draw blood if she didn’t cease.
    Ewan sighed. “I’m not ordering your death, lass. You asked for a bath and food. Are you questioning my hospitality now?”
    She frowned, and her eyes narrowed as she gazed sharply at him. “I asked for a
horse
and food. I’ve no need of your hospitality. I’d prefer to be on my way as soon as possible.”
    “I’ve no horses to spare, and furthermore, you aren’t going anywhere until I’ve sorted this entire matter out. If you have no wish for a bath, I’m sure the women would be happy to show you into the kitchens so you can eat.”
    He finished with a shrug that signaled he didn’t care whether she bathed or not. That had been Alaric’s idea, but didn’t all women jump at the chance to wallow in a tub of hot water?
    She pursed her lips as if to argue but evidently decided restraint was a better idea. “I’d like a bath.”
    He nodded. “Then I suggest you follow the women upstairs before I change my mind.”
    She turned, muttering something under her breaththat he didn’t catch. His eyes narrowed. The contrary lass was