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growing anxiety. “But I saw something in the forest that made me change my mind.”
    “These woods are not safe for a woman traveling alone.”
    “No, indeed they are not. Please let us leave here.”
    He was a little irked by her concern. What did she imagine would come through the trees that he could not handle? “Dinna fear. I winna let any harm come to ye.”
    She looked up at him not moving, her large eyes filling with tears.
    “Isabelle?”
    She wiped away the tears with a quick swipe of the back of her hand. “I beg your pardon. My uncle had the occasion to say the very same words to me many years ago, but now he is gone.” Her voice became quite soft and Campbell’s own attitude toward her softened as well. Poor thing. He guessed her uncle’s death had left her quite defenseless. If only she was not quite so English.
    “Take my hand,” he said gently, reaching out to her. She put her hand in his and he drew her up behind him.
    “My, it is high up here. What a large horse!” She clung to him tightly enough to squeeze the breath from his lungs.
    “Aye,” he choked, but did not ask her to loosen her grip. Nor did he ask her to remove her legs, which brushed against his thighs in a most suggestive way. He spurred his horse and galloped away faster than he would have normally done, causing her to press herself to him even tighter.
    He decided to let the horse run awhile, shamelessly enjoying the way her body moved against his. He was a veritable knave, but he smiled and spurred his mount faster.

Five
     
    David Campbell set out at a bruising speed, causing Isabelle to hold on tight and hope she would not fall to her death. After a while, he slowed to a brisk trot and Isabelle was able to loosen her grip. By afternoon, a new fear had settled upon her.
    “When shall we make Glasgow?”
    “If we make good speed I hope to be there by tomorrow before the gates close.”
    “Tomorrow! Oh my, I had thought Glasgow closer than that.”
    “Ye dinna ken whether it was a town, a loch, or a person. Ye want to tell me why this sudden desire to see Scotland?”
    “I did not wish to be left alone in the forest.” It was true, if vague.
    Isabelle pondered her limited options. She always prided herself in being able to find solutions to problems, though she had been told often enough that being clever was not an endearing quality in a wife. Still, she was going to need whatever wits she had to save herself from her husband’s men and return to her own guard, a particularly difficult challenge since she was traveling farther from England with every passing minute.
    If only she could convince the Highlander to return her to England. She considered what little she knew of him, searching for weakness. Unlikely as it was for a barbarian, he did feel compelled to rescue her—twice, and even returned after regaining his horse. The first time he may have mistaken her for a Scot, but the other times were sheer chivalry. Perhaps he would be moved by sympathy.
    Isabelle bit her lip. What she needed were some tears. She filled her mind with thoughts of doom, imagining what horrors Tynsdale may inflict on her people if she should fail in her efforts to prevent him from taking Alnsworth. That thought alone was enough to make her bottom lip quiver.
    The Scot reined in his mount and came to a stop by a small creek. “Time to give the horse a rest.” He dismounted with ease and handed Isabelle down. Isabelle seized the opportunity to put her hands on his shoulders.
    “Please, sir,” she managed a convincing half sob, “please do not take me away, so far from my home.” She was pleased when tears spilled from her eyes. “I cannot bear to be separated from my family. Could you find it in your heart to return me to England?” She sniffed and wiped away a tear. She actually had no family left her, but a whimpering homesick lady sounded more pathetic. “Please, will you not show some mercy?” She rested her head on his chest and