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she tried to angle her body away from them, shame heating her cheeks.
    “ Have ye never seen a woman before?” Kade asked, irritation in his voice. He’d spent a nearly sleepless night watching her. After his men had fallen asleep, he’d gone to her with a blanket, for she looked so miserable and wretched. Never in his life had he treated a woman so harshly. But then he’d remembered who she was, remembered again the lifeless look of his own brother’s eyes, the leaping flame, his wife’s tangled and charred body twisted in Niall’s arms.
    He’d been told Niall had tried to save her, that she’d been found with her helpless hands twisted in the fabric of his plaid. Both had perished. Maybe not by the hand of Brodie MacKinnon, but certainly by his order.
    He untied her. “Get up,” he commanded.
    Dear God, but Maighdlin didn’t have the strength. She hadn’t eaten anything at all yesterday, and couldn’t remember when she’d last taken a drink. Her vision swam as she tried to obey his command, but her weak, stinging limbs wouldn’t comply. She began to sway and cough, for her mouth and throat were dry as straw in the full burn of autumn sun.
    Kade gripped her arms and lifted her to a standing position, but she had to lean against his broad chest for fear of falling. His brow creased. “Steafan, did ye no’ give her bread and ale last eve?”
    “ I offered it, but she wouldna ha’e it. Said she wouldna eat anything provided by yer hand.”
    Kade swore and his eyes turned dark. Maighdlin flinched at the anger and incredulity she saw in them. He led her before a fire that was now just blackened embers and hissing curls of smoke and sat her down. “By God, ye will eat and drink by my hand. Ye willna starve and deprive me of my revenge.”
    He clamped his fingers around her jaw and forced her to drink. While she sputtered, he broke off a piece of bread and forced it to her lips. She clamped them shut and tried to turn her head away, but he wouldn’t let her. He gripped her chin again, and she was startled by the strength of his long, lean fingers. “You have two choices, Christel MacKinnon. Ye can let this food pass yer lips, or ye can taste of my lips again. They ha’e been known to provide sustenance to many a wench. Which will it be?”
    Wordlessly, she opened her mouth.
    “ Aye, I thought so.” He fed her bite by bite, his eyes fastened on her lips, and Maighdlin thought he seemed amused. She fumed. Never had she been so humiliated. When she was finished eating, her dark eyes smoldered and sparked with anger. He stood, looking down at her.
    “ Yer cruel and merciless, Kade MacAlister. No different than the man you claim to hate.” His mouth tightened into a thin line, and he hauled her up against him. His eyes burned into hers, but he said nothing.
    He released her abruptly and mounted his horse. She was lifted in front of him, groping for the horse’s mane to keep from falling off, curling her fingers into the horse’s thick hair, straining not to touch the man behind her. But she was weakened by lack of sleep and soon leaned against him anyway, his thighs like bands of iron against her own, his arms unyielding like the breadth of his chest at her back.
    He leaned close, his breath dangerously warm against her neck. “Dunna get used to being unbound, Christel. Indeed, from this day forward, yer fate and the fate of the entire MacKinnon clan, as well as that little village that hid ye so well for so many years, are bound to me. You would be wise to remember it.” He dug his heels into the horse, and they shot off, Maighdlin exhausted and emotionally drained.
    Was there no reasoning with this man, who was blinded by his own fury and thoughts of revenge? Sheltered as her existence had been, meager though her experience with men, she vowed this one would not break her spirit. She had fainted at his kiss, but it wouldn’t happen again! Maybe it was a good thing she had fainted, for he would think