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ground and then loomed over her with a look of sheer annoyance.
    She reached underneath her skirts to rub her bruised behind and glared up at the warrior. “That hurt!”
    Caelen rolled his eyes. “You have two choices. You can get yourself up off the ground and give in gracefully. Or I can tie you up, preferably with a gag, and throw you over my saddle.”
    “I can’t just leave! Why on earth would you want me to? I’ve done nothing against your brother. I saved his life. Where is your gratitude? I have people who rely on my healing skills here.”
    “We have more pressing need of a healer at McCabe keep,” Caelen calmly explained. “You did a fine job at stitching my brother and keeping him alive. You’ll continue to do so on McCabe land.”
    She leveled a mutinous stare at him, though she had to crane her neck to do so. “I’ll not ride with you.” She crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest for emphasis.
    “Fine.”
    He plucked her up off the ground and strode over to where one of his men had already mounted. She had no warning before she was literally tossed up for the other warrior to catch.
    Caelen stared up at her. “Happy? You can ride with Gannon.”
    Gannon didn’t look pleased with the task.
    She scowled her own displeasure and then decided she’d inform Caelen just what she thought of him.
    “I don’t like you. You’re a complete boor.”
    He shrugged, clearly telling her he had no care whether she liked him or not, but she could swear she heard him utter “good” under his breath as he turned and stalked away to see to the litter that was being fashioned for Alaric.
    “You be careful not to rip his stitches,” she called.
    She strained forward and Gannon gingerly wrapped his hands around her waist to prevent her from tumbling from his lap.
    “ ’Tis a better idea if you sit still,” he suggested. “ ’Tis a long way to the ground for a lass as small as you.”
    “I’ve no wish to leave!” she protested.
    Gannon shrugged. “The laird has decided to keep you. ’Tis better if you accept with good grace. The McCabes are a fine clan. And we have need of a healer since ours passed on just weeks ago.”
    Her gaze narrowed and it was on the tip of her tongue to tell the daft man that they couldn’t just go around stealing people, but his words took hold and she quieted.
    He seemed to relax, and she felt a sigh of relief release from his chest.
    A clan. A position in a clan. Was it really that simple? She frowned. Would she have status in the McCabe clan, or would she be a prisoner with no more privilege than a captive? Would she be treated well until Alaric’s recovery and then turned out?
    And what if he didn’t recover? Would she shoulder the blame?
    A shiver took hold at the thought, and she instinctively burrowed closer to the warrior’s warmth. The wind had a bite, and she was ill-prepared for the elements.
    Nay. She wouldn’t allow Alaric to die. She’d determined it from the moment she’d laid eyes on the handsome warrior.
    Behind her Gannon cursed.
    “Get the lass something to shield her from the cold,” he called out. “She’ll freeze before we hit McCabe land.”
    One of the other men tossed up a blanket and Gannon carefully arranged it around Keeley. She clutched the ends and stayed close to his chest, despite the fact that he was captor and she was captive.
    Nay. He wasn’t her captor. He didn’t look any more pleased with the arrangement than she. Nay. She had Caelen and the laird to blame.
    She sent a glare in their directions just so they’d know how displeased she was with their daring. Neither man spared her more than a cursory glance as they secured Alaric to a makeshift litter.
    “Be vigilant,” the laird directed as the men readied for their departure. “We know not what transpired during Alaric’s journey, but none, save him, survived. We must return to McCabe keep without delay.”
    Keeley shivered at the ominous sound of the laird’s