“May he prove more worthy than my father,” Rionna whispered.

The others went silent, perhaps out of loyalty to the man they’d called laird for so many years. Rionna was through acting the dutiful daughter. She had plans for when she returned to her keep.

Whether her husband liked it or not, she intended to be a major force in the reshaping of her clan. For too long her people had suffered under the poor leadership of a greedy, belligerent fool.

Perhaps they’d traded one for another. She knew not yet. She hoped Caelen proved a good man and an even better warrior.

War was imminent. Ewan McCabe was preparing to fight Duncan Cameron and he was taking the whole of the highlands with him to battle.

Her clan wouldn’t be the sacrificial lamb on the battlefield, if she could help it.

CHAPTER 8

Chapter 9

It was nearing dark when Caelen called a halt to the procession. Rionna was so cold that she’d long since lost feeling in her hands and feet. Her cheeks were numb and she felt cold on the inside.

She was sure she’d never be warm again. The fires of hell would be welcome at the moment.

She pried her hands from the reins and tucked them under the fur, hoping to rub some feeling back into them. She dreaded dismounting. She had no wish to set her feet into the snow. She had no wish to do anything that required movement.

With a fortifying breath, she gripped the saddle and started to dismount. Caelen appeared by her horse and reached up to assist her.

She was so pathetically grateful that she nearly tumbled into his arms.

Somehow she managed to put her hands on his shoulders and allow him to lift her down. But when her feet made contact with the ground, her legs buckled and she went down into the snow.

Caelen immediately reached for her, but when his hands came into contact with her icy skin, he swore a string of blasphemies that singed her ears.

As he swung her into his arms, he barked out orders for fires to be built and for shelter to be constructed.

“Caelen, I’m quite well. Just c—cold.”

She slapped her lips together as the last stammered out. ’Twas the truth she was so cold she burned.

“You’re not well,” he said in a grim voice. “God’s teeth, woman, are you just trying to kill yourself? Why aren’t you dressed for the cold? And why the hell didn’t you tell me you were so miserable?”

She would have bitten her tongue off before complaining to him of anything.

As soon as the fires were laid and began to burn, Caelen carried her and perched on a log as close to the flames as he could without singeing their clothing.