Divana closed her eyes for a time. She preferred not to talk about seeking revenge on Vane or anything to do with Kennan sailing away. He didn’t know that she’d been awake when he pressed his lips to her forehead and vowed to guard her with his life. Did that mean forever or just until they reached Cameron lands?

She yawned. “Do ye think Sergeant Corbyn kens we’ve escaped by now?”

“I’m hoping they don’t realize we’re missing until morning.”

* * *

“There she is!” Kennan shouted, resisting the urge to demand a canter from the weary garron pony.

Divana sat taller, the curves of her bottom rocking between his thighs as they’d done so many times throughout the journey. He was exhausted and sore, and yet, his mind had run the gamut of all the positions in which he’d enjoy seeing the lass’s hind end, and none of them had anything to do with riding a horse and everything to do with her riding him. Preferably in a bed—but that didn’t even matter now.

He’d spent too much time with this woman in his arms. It was enough to torture any man who’d abstained from the sport of the bedchamber for as long as Kennan had done.

To erase his errant thoughts, he drew in a deep breath of crisp Highland air.

“Saint Columba,” Divana exclaimed, not masking the awe in her voice. “’Tis magnificent.”

Kennan never tired of the sight of home. Achnacarry had been the clan seat for generations. The keep in the center of the fortress had been built by the fourth clan chief and nearly every one of his ancestors had added something since—the curtain walls, the east and west wings, the vast stables, the immaculate gardens. Though he knew one day he’d be laird, he had never been eager to assume the title from his da. By the stars, his father might very well outlive him, especially now that Kennan had vowed to go after the most heinous pirate on the high seas.

Shouts came from the top of the guardhouse, followed by a cacophony of barking deerhounds. Before they reached the gates, the enormous portcullis raised and out ran a pair of dogs, followed by—

Kennan nearly fell off his horse. “I’ll be damned.”

“What is it?” Divana asked.

“A face from the dead.”

“Huh?”

Runner charged toward them and grasped the pony’s bridle. “God on the cross, you’re alive!”

“That fiendish pirate cannot get the better of me.” Kennan pointed ahead, while Runner stood gape mouthed, staring at Divana. “Good Lord, do you see that? Lachie Mor and Mr. MacNeil cheated death as well.”

“Aye, and nearly half the crew.” The lad gave the lass a grin, then grabbed the pony’s bridle and pulled the poor animal forward until Kennan stopped him under the archway.

Mobbed by clan and kin, he hopped down and then helped Divana to her feet.

Lachie gripped his palm in a powerful handshake. “I kent that bastard didn’t send you to hell.”