If only he’d been born a crofter, he might have proposed. That’s what she deserved.

Breathing heavily, she stopped beside him, her cheeks rosy, her smile a tad unsure. “I packed some food for ye and the men—things ye mightn’t have thought to bring.”

The delicious aroma of freshly baked shortbread wafted from beneath the cloth covering the basket’s contents. Though it wasn’t easy to fasten a basket to his saddle. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Would you mind wrapping the victuals in the cloth and placing them into my saddlebags?”

She glanced behind him as she bit her lip. “Oh. Of course.”

He leaned down and lowered his voice. “But those biscuits smell too good to ignore. May I have one for the road?”

“Aye.” Her expression brightened as she gave him a warm triangle of shortbread. “And ye’ll be returning soon, will ye not?”

“As soon as I can, and whilst I’m gone, my father will ensure you are cared for.”

She unfastened the buckles on his leather bag and pushed in the parcel. “Your da?” she asked, wincing.

“Does my news make you unhappy?”

“He’s a wee bit frightening,” she whispered.

Kennan knew very well how menacing Lochiel appeared. He scowled and strolled about the halls of Achnacarry like an ogre at times. In fact, as a lad, Kennan had been terrified of his father, but the great chieftain was kindhearted toward his allies—though naught could be said for his enemies. “Perhaps, but he’s a good man.”

“I wish you weren’t leaving.”

God, how her words cut him to the quick. If circumstances were different, he’d be able to stay. But Kennan would be a coward if he didn’t face Vane. He’d never be able to live with himself.

“I’m a sea captain, remember? ’Tis what I do.” He kissed his fingers, then raised his shortbread in thanks. “I’ll see you soon, lassie.”

What was it about the redheaded woman? As her vivid blue eyes met his gaze, his heart twisted. It seemed the damned organ was doing too much twisting of late. Again Kennan regretted his actions at Beltane. Why had he grown so jealous when Runner told her she looked bonny? Or when he noticed every man at the gathering was watching her dance? He should have been relieved to see her garner so such attention.

Bless it, Divana would make a fine Highland wife. She was loving and selfless and bonny on top of it all. With luck, by the time he returned, she’d be courting a strapping young man from Clan Cameron.

Kennan gripped his reins tighter, demanding a fast trot from his horse. If some young whelp did so much as steal a kiss, he’d challenge the rake to a duel.

“Ye seem a wee bit agitated, sir,” said Lachie Mor, riding beside him. “I would have thought after the news from Mar you’d be racing for Loch Eil with your hair afire.”

“I’m anxious to sail to Glasgow is all.”

“You’re twisted in knots over what to do with the lass.”