He was close enough now to hear her huff as she leaped over a mushroom-covered log, and he reached out to graze her swinging braid. A surge in her speed meant she’d felt his touch. The slightest twitch of her head told him that she would veer to the right. Anticipating the direction, he reached out to grab her, yanking her into his chest as they fell together onto the mossy forest floor.

Taking the jarring impact, he rolled her over, pinning her under him. She twisted, trying to kick out, but his heavy legs caught hers. Damp leaves and twigs caught in her hair as she thrashed, trying to twist out from under him. Grabbing her wrists, he raised them over her head. She paused to glare up at him. Cain leaned forward, both of them breathing hard, until they were as close as they had been in the tree.

“Surrender,” he ordered. “Ye are mine.” He lifted slightly off her chest so as not to crush the breath from her. Without it, she could not admit that she had been conquered.

“Death before surrender,” she replied, breathless, her beautiful gray eyes narrowing to slits. Damn him for noticing the long, dark lashes encircling them. Och, but she’d grown up into a fierce beauty full of fire.

Submission would be easier, but the challenge fit her better. Nay, Ella Sutherland wouldn’t beg for release unless it was another trick like the blasted kiss. He hardened his stare, bringing on the look that promised death. It had intimidated great warriors before; surely it would cow this young female chieftain.

“In truth, there are two outcomes,” he said. A new strategy formed rapidly in his mind. He waited for her question, but she just glared, showing her hatred. “Aye,” he continued. “Two choices. Death or…ye wed a Sinclair to join our clans peacefully under Sinclair rule.”

Her eyes widened, lips falling open for the space of a heartbeat. “Which Sinclair?” she asked.

He frowned at her, feeling the ploy but answering anyway. “Me. With my father dead, I am the chief.”

Her mouth relaxed, but it wasn’t a grin. Despite her sudden look of apathy, her cheeks bloomed red, and she wet her full lips. “Then I choose death.”

His head ached from thirst and dirt. Sweat and blood caked his skin, yet his breath burst from him with one wry chuckle. Cain released her arms, and she yanked them back. He sat on his bent knees over her. What a perfect gift to give his da on the day of his death, the conquest of the Sutherland clan.