Cain watched Ella stroke the horse lovingly. Not since he was a lad, wishing to gallop away like an untrained stallion to escape his father’s wild nature, had he wished to be a horse.

She turned her face to him, and the happiness there caught his breath. “Thank you,” she said. “For not killing her. She has no choice in this war of ours.”

High cheekbones accented the lines of her face, and there was a slight shine to her eyes. “No animal has a choice,” he said. “Most people do not, either. They fight for whom they are told to fight unless they find themselves in charge.”

The mare rested her chin on Ella’s shoulder. He wished he could suck the words back into his mouth, because they caused the smile to fade from her face. “You think I am choosing to keep this war going between our clans,” she said. It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t answer. Her eyes narrowed. “You know nothing about me, Sinclair. Not about my family or the oaths I have made to protect it.”

“Tell me, then,” he said. What promises did her sarding father wring from her before he died? “Some oaths are not worth keeping.”

“The ones I have made are.”

Damn. He wished he could see into her mind to know what was driving her. Her fears and wants for the future. If he knew those, he could strategize on how to…make her happy, make her smile like she did when she saw her horse was safe. Happiness was a prize he had never sought to bring about in another.

Hurried footsteps sounded outside the stables. “Cain?” Gideon’s face appeared in the open doorway. “’Tis Ginny. She is foaling, and…’tis difficult.”

Mo chreach.

“I have experience with problem foaling,” Ella said, sliding out of the stall and hurrying with them from the barn.

The three jogged in a small cluster through the night where the clouds raced off to reveal a slender moon, through the bailey and over the last drawbridge. “Up ahead,” Cain said, and they rounded a copse of trees that helped shade the long stable that housed at least twenty-five of his horses. “She is in the birthing paddock at the end.”

“Cain!” Bàs yelled, running toward them up the aisle as they entered. “Ginny needs help. Now.”

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Ella ran down the long aisle, barely keeping up with Cain and his brothers. “What is wrong?” she asked Bàs.

“She has been laboring hard, but the foal isn’t coming. We see the foal’s hind end through the sack that is coming out. No legs,” Bàs said.

Cain cursed. “The bairn’s legs are stuck forward.”