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have a clan. The forest was her home, the animals within it her family. So she didn’t feel as if she were betraying a clan who didn’t want her.
    Morvan stood in the water and looked around to find a secluded section where she could hide the stranger. Using the water to help, she pulled him to the spot she’d selected. It took awhile between his weight, her ribs, and her heavy skirts to pull him as far out of the water as she could.  
    Then she rushed around finding the herbs she needed to staunch the bleeding. She packed the leaves and flower petals into the wounds and tore off strips of her shift to bind them in place.
    When she finished the last one, she sat back and looked at the man. He was tall and muscular, a Highlander in every sense of the word. Never had she seen someone kill with their bare hands, but that’s exactly what he had done – to ten men.  
    Morvan looked down at her hands to see the blood upon them. She rinsed her hands in the water as she took in the man’s face. His face was all hard angles, but with his hollowed cheeks and full bottom lip, he was striking.  
    Unable to resist, she ran the back of her fingers along his cheek and then sank her fingers into his thick hair. His deep brown eyebrows were a shade darker than his hair and slashed over his eyes.   Now that his forehead was no longer furrowed, he looked younger and much calmer.
    “Who are you?” she whispered.
    He slept on, unaware of her question. That was just one of many she had, however. She hoped he would wake in time to answer them, but she doubted he was the kind of man who would give answers if he didn’t want to.
    Her world of solitude and silence had been shattered, and there was nothing she could do about it. There was a possibility her clansmen wouldn’t come to her cottage. It was a slim one. At least the stranger had a chance to escape. If he woke in time.
    Somehow, she didn’t think he was the kind of man to lie around no matter how severe the wound. No, he would be up and gone as soon as he woke. Which was probably a good thing.  
    Morvan sighed. Besides stitching them, she had done all she could for his wounds. It was too bad he wasn’t awake. She found herself wanting to hear his voice to see if it matched the virile, muscular visage of the man she had witnessed in the heat of battle.
    Then again, she would be better served getting as far from him as she could.

CHAPTER FOUR

    Stefan’s eyes snapped open to see thick, puffy clouds lazily drifting across a blue sky. He felt like roasted arse and he didn’t know why his feet were wet inside his boots.
    He raised his head and saw the stream, and then he remembered the woman. He recalled his anger directed at her. He’d grabbed her, and it was like a veil had been lifted from him. Everything became calm and clear for a moment.
    The same had happened the night before when he’d carried her into her cottage, but he hadn’t realized it until they were in the water.
    Stefan couldn’t recall what had happened after touching the woman, or before he was chasing her through the forest. Why had he chased her? It was the same woman from the cliff, and the same woman he’d watched swim in the loch that morning. But that shouldn’t have made him go after her.
    He ran a hand down his face and sat up, grimacing at the pain that assaulted him from his chest, arms, and thigh. Someone had tended to his wounds, and if the material binding him were any indication, it was the woman.  
    If she’d run from him, it was because she was frightened. Why would she then tend to him?  
    There was only one way to find out.
    Stefan started to get to his feet when he heard a snap of a limb. He slowly pulled his boots out of the water and turned so he could look over the foliage covering him when he saw six men, all wearing blue and green tartans.
    “Find him,” demanded the tallest of the men. He carried a sword in his meaty fist, a look of rage contorting his face.
    Stefan remained