“Never!” Kennan craned his neck, looking toward the keep. “Where’s Lochiel?”

“I’m coming, bless it!” Da marched from the keep with Kennan’s stepmother following closely behind.

Hastening forward, Kennan shook his father’s hand. “By God, ’tis good to be home.”

“You cannot ken what a relief it is to see your face, son. The lot of us feared the worst.”

“But I never gave up hope,” said Lady Lochiel, giving Kennan a kiss on the cheek. She shifted her gaze to Divana. “Who is this?”

The poor lass clutched her hands over her heart, staring at the ground, her face apple red.

“Do not be shy.” Kennan stepped back and took her elbow. “This is Divana. If it weren’t for this wee lassie, I would have frozen my bones on Hyskeir.”

“Hyskeir?” asked Lachie Mor, sounding alarmed—he must have known about the smallpox.

“I was there a month.” Kennan swirled a calming hand around Divana’s shoulder. “We were rescued more or less by a sergeant who’s a bit too big for his breeches—locked us in the mill at Mallaig. But I wasn’t about to sit on my backside and wait until they decided to release us.”

“Then are we to expect a visit from the queen’s dragoons?” Da asked.

Kennan gave a single nod. “I’d reckon so.”

“’Tis not the first time, the brigands.” Da thrust his thumb toward the keep. “Go have a wash and find some shoes. Then I’ll meet you in the library.”

Kennan glanced at his shabby attire, but his clothes were nowhere near as badly worn as Divana’s tattered dress. “Lady Lochiel, I’ve promised this lassie she’ll be given a good home with clothes, shoes, a bed, and all the blankets she desires. Do you reckon you can find a position for her at Achnacarry?”

“Hmm.” Lady Lochiel frowned, giving the lass an exaggerated once-over. “Very well, if anyone can set the gel to rights, ’tis Mistress Barton. And she can always use another set of hands. Come with me, lass.”

Divana gave Kennan’s hand a squeeze, her blue eyes filled with trepidation. “Will I see ye later?”

“Aye. I’ll find you. Now go with my stepmother. Mistress Barton is the housekeeper and there’s none better.”

The lass gave a nod, but she looked anything other than convinced. And Kennan had deliberately withheld her surname. They’d learn she was a Campbell soon enough, and it was best to have his kin discover what a treasure she was before they started jumping to conclusions.

Once she’d started away, he grasped Lachie Mor’s shoulder. “How many men survived?”

“Sixteen, counting you, sir.”

“Damn.” He’d lost fifteen because of that bloody pirate. The treasure could be replaced, but those men’s lives were gone forever. A fist-size lump stretched in his throat. “It is all my fault.”

“God, no, sir. You fought with the strength of ten men. Had it not been for you every last one of us would have been cut to the quick.”

Kennan couldn’t take credit—not when there were so many dead. “Praise the saints you and the survivors are strong swimmers.”