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could do such damage to a group of fifteen men. He was quick and agile, swift and lethal. He used no sword, just his hands and a dagger.
    As the man pivoted away, she caught a glimpse of his face. It was the same man from the cliff. She was mesmerized, captivated.  
    Six of her clansman left alive ran back the way they had come as the man fought a seventh. She covered her mouth with her hand as her clansman fell. The man from the cliff stood among the dead breathing heavily. He started to turn away when one of the six who’d run off returned and threw a dagger that landed in the man’s thigh.
    The stranger’s face turned deadly, as feral as a wild animal’s when he locked his gaze on his attacker. In quick order, he had her clansman in his grip, and the man died quickly and violently.
    Morvan knew she couldn’t be seen by the man. Even as he staggered and slammed against a tree, she knew she had to leave. She waited until he pulled the dagger from his thigh before she took a step back. She held her breath when her foot landed on a stick and it split, the sound as loud as a crack of thunder in the silence of the forest.
    The man’s head jerked around to her and their gazes locked. He pushed away from the tree, and she saw the blood seeping from various wounds on his arms and chest. Though his eyes were wild and focused, his body wasn’t responding as it had before. He took two steps toward her before he went down on one knee.  
    He growled, his face twisted with anger – at her or himself for not rising, she didn’t know. Her heart ached as she watched him try to get up. It reminded her of the elk she’d seen be taken down by an arrow the winter before. The massive animal had fought the death that awaited it, it struggled and scraped to get its legs underneath it, only to stagger a few steps and fall back down.  
    Which was exactly what the stranger was doing.
    Morvan couldn’t stand to see any animal suffer – even a man. At the same time, the stranger was still in the grips of battle. He wouldn’t stop until she was dead.  
    She lifted her skirts and started running. Even with her heart pounding and her breath rushing, she could hear him behind her. The only thing in her favor was the fact that she knew this forest better than anyone. She ran in the opposite direction from her cottage, her gaze directly in front of her to the stream. There was no use looking behind her. All her concentration was needed to maneuver around trees and rocks.
    She could hear him closing in, knew he was about to grab her. Morvan caught a glimpse of the stream through the trees. She was so close. All she had to do was get him to the water. She knew where the shallow spots were. If he fell into the deep part, it would give her time to get away.
    Morvan shrieked when her head was jerked back as the man grabbed the ends of her hair. She swatted her arm behind her and connected with him. It was all that was needed to get him to release her.  
    With renewed drive, she pumped her legs faster. A smile formed when she came to the stream and headed for the shallow part. Luck was on her side as her boot hit the shore of the water.
    Suddenly, she was slammed into from behind. The water came at her quickly, and then she was on her back looking into hazel eyes. She watched, confused, as his anger faded and clarity filled his eyes.
    He kept her from going under the water by shifting, his hold easing considerably. With his chest heaving, he frowned down at her. Blood gushed from his wounds, and he blinked, fighting to stay conscious.
    A tremor went through him as he released her and fell back. Morvan warily sat up and discovered the stranger had passed out. If any of the MacKays arrived and found him, they would kill him instantly. She should want his death, and yet, the same feeling that urged her to the cliff the day before screamed at her to heal the man.
    She might live on MacKay land, but she didn’t consider them her clan. She didn’t