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from the south bank and traveled due north. I’m certain…a—at least I think…”
    “Move aside.” Anvrai scrambled to the midsection of the boat and took the oars from Isabel, whose voice sounded anything but certain. “We’ve drifted off course.” And he hoped they were nowhere near a waterfall.
    Pain roared through his shoulder as he tried to turn the boat around. Wherever they were going, it was not the direction Lady Isabel had intended.
    A sudden flash of lightning gave him his bearings, and he started rowing toward the shore. “Look back, Lady Isabel,” he said. “Keep your eyes open. If the lightning comes again, you’ll be able to see where we are.”
    “But I…I am sure I rowed south. I couldn’t have steered us so far off course.”
    Anvrai would have laughed at her incredulous tone if their situation had not been so dire. Once again, lightning illuminated the way, and Anvrai corrected their course. “Can you see the village?”
    “No—Yes, I can see smoke billowing under the clouds,” she said. “At least, I think it’s smoke.”
    “The smell is not so strong anymore.”
    Anvrai had no idea where they were. They must have traveled some distance from their captors’ village, thanks to Isabel, even though they were far from the other side of the lake. She must have been rowing them in ever-widening circles.
    “We’ll stay on the river,” he said, “and let the current carry us farther away.”
    ’Twould be best for them to conserve their strength, yet the lack of control was unnerving. Anvrai had no clear sense of their direction and was able to correct their course only during the occasional bursts of light from the sky. Even so, there did not appear to be anyplace to land the boat. The shore was bordered by high cliffs on both sides.
    Somehow, all remained well until Roger roused himself and began to retch in the bottom of the boat.
    “God’s bones,” Anvrai muttered in disgust, but when the boy did it again, his annoyance turned to anger. “Do that again, and I’ll toss your sorry arse overboard,” he barked.
    “Let him be! He’s ill!”
    “He can be ill outside the boat!”
    The currach began to rock and Anvrai realized Isabel was moving from the back of the boat. She crawled toward him and slipped into the tight space beside him, pushing the oar away. “He needs help,” she said as she squeezed past.
    “By God, woman, if you capsize this boat, I won’t be responsible for you. Either of you!” Battles were his forté, and hand-to-hand combat. Responsibility for Lord Henri’s daughter was the last thing he needed.
    Isabel ignored him, rocking the boat as she pulled Roger up. Anvrai could barely see them in the dark, but she managed to prop him up and rest his chin upon the side of the boat. They were dangerously heavy in front, so Anvrai slid back a few feet in order to balance them better.
    His mood was not improved by the sound of more retching over the side.
    The river continued to carry them, and by the time the rain came, Anvrai estimated they’d floated a good many miles downriver. ’Twas much farther than if they’d fled on foot, but where were they? Surely they were far enough that the Scots would not come after them even though Lady Isabel had killed their chieftain. They would need to concentrate all their resources on rebuilding their village before winter came.
    Diffuse light illuminated the sky behind them, and Anvrai saw the moon emerge from behind the rain clouds. The shoreline looked rugged and unapproachable, and Isabel’s form became more than just a dark shadow before him. Her hair lay soaked against her skull, and the dark bruises on her cheek andlip stood out against her pale flesh. Her clothing was saturated—hardly adequate protection against the rain, certainly not a shield against his unwilling gaze.
    Anvrai reached behind him and took hold of one of the skins she’d carried out of the chieftain’s cottage. He tossed it to her. “Put