The burn in Ella’s arm felt familiar as she continued to pull and release arrows toward the Mackays. They were enemies now for holding a blade against innocent Hannah’s throat.

Guilt sat in the pit of Ella’s stomach. Why had she not said more to Hannah about Hew? Or told Cain about his sister’s questions?

Because you were thinking about Cain; kissing him and killing him.

“Drink,” Cain said, holding a flask across her arm so that she had to cease her constant barrage. She took the flask, tipping it to let spring water wash away the dryness along her throat and tongue.

Ella studied the hard lines of Cain’s face. He was still angry at her, but there was no irrational bloodlust or craze in his eyes. There was much more to him than just a warring chief who pretended to be the biblical horseman of conquest. Yes, he also has deliciously warm skin that tastes of sin, she thought and forced her gaze back to the battle before her, raising her bow.

Wed him and kill him.

She had killed a vicious scoundrel today. Hew Mackay deserved to die. But could she possibly kill the man who had been honest with her last night, loving her unselfishly with everything he had? The man who risked death and sent his armies to save his foolish sister, obviously forgiving her for helping an enemy escape? Earlier, in the training ring, she had held her arrow briefly pointed at Cain, and the pain of remorse almost made her lose her balance on Gilla.

“Where is your horse?” Cain asked.

“Inside the forest line up the hill,” she said, tipping her chin in that direction.

Cain signaled one of his warriors. “Find her mount and take it back to Girnigoe.” The man nodded, turning to ride toward the distant hill. Would he make her walk back in punishment or ride with her before him?

Cain nodded to one of his men who held some arrows tipped with black pitch. “I declare war!”

He hadn’t taken the time to put on a shirt when he rode from the training field to find his sister. Black lines crisscrossed his upper arm, stretching with the muscles working under his tanned skin as he lifted his arm to raise his bow.

The warrior handed him a pitch-soaked arrow to nock. Cain’s massive biceps mounded as he pulled back the catgut, and the warrior lit the arrow. Ella knew that Cain was not sent from the Christian God, but Lord, he looked as if he were chiseled by the Greek gods she had read about. From a block of flesh-colored marble to represent the immortal power of a warrior from ancient lore. The sight of his strength, added to the rush of battle, mixed inside Ella, making her mouth go dry and the fire within her ignite as it had the night before.