In the distance, a horse neighed, and another round of screams rose up. Cain did not reply to her comments, but at least she’d gotten the chance to say them. No one, besides Kenneth, had ever listened to her ideas about creating a strong Scotland before.

She turned toward the bonfires and leaned forward, making Gilla walk. “I suppose we must return, Gilla,” she said. “To the insanity that is the Sinclair clan.” Her horse’s ears flicked toward her in agreement over her assessment.

“’Twas my father’s tradition,” Cain called and caught up to her. “He felt that chaos would weed out the weak.”

Ella rolled her eyes heavenward. “’Tis a bloody idiotic tradition, and you can change it. You can change a lot of things.” She angled her horse across the dark moor and pressed forward into a canter, Gilla’s rolling gait making her feel free enough to smile. Cain moved up beside her, the thud of his horse in time with her own. They slowed as they reached the outskirts of the fires. People milled around, most holding onto their horses while Cain’s assigned man used sweeping arm movements to try to organize the mass.

Cain held his fingers to his mouth, giving a shrill whistle that sliced through the uproar. Behind the press, a horse neighed, and Cain’s massive warhorse pushed through the crowd. Cain waited until his white steed came up to him to dismount Hannah’s horse. “Take her to her mistress,” Cain asked a lad nearby and held the horse’s halter until he grabbed it. He glanced at Ella and then back to the boy. “What is your name, lad?”

The boy’s eyes were wide. “Devlin, Chief Sinclair.”

Cain nodded to him. “And thank ye.”

Shocking. Her mouth dropped open with mock surprise.

He climbed onto his white horse and looked at her. “See,” he said. “I can be…not frightening.”

She closed her mouth, trying not to smile. He is still the enemy. An enemy who had listened to her ideas. Wed him and kill him. Her smile faded away.

Cain turned the horse to face the crowd. “Stad,” he called out, his voice booming up from his gut to cut through the conversations. It was a vicious growl. Most looked paralyzed in fear, except for the man directing everyone, who lowered his arms in relief.

“Wildness served the Sinclairs in the past,” Cain called. “But now we will have order in the walk and save the wildness for the dancing and drinking afterward.” Deep chuckles came from most of the men and several ladies.

“Those animals who have already walked or kicked their way between the flames must be taken home now if they haven’t already run off into the night.”

“Ian’s young stallion has been caught,” Hamish said. “The rest were ridden down, too.”

Cain glanced behind him to Ella. “What order do ye recommend?”