I’m being a daft curmudgeon. I’ve naught but to accept my lot and thank the stars Clan Cameron has opened their arms and their doors to me.

On her third trip around the wall-walk, the cadence of horses approaching the postern gate resounded from the south. Clutching her blanket tightly about her shoulders, Divana leaned out a crenel and strained to see.

“Two horses approach!” shouted a guard from the tower.

Though it oughtn’t be anyone in Kennan’s retinue, Divana jumped as high as possible, craning her neck for a better look. There! As the dark figures neared, she saw only the silhouette of one rider—and something bulky bouncing on the second horse.

“Open the gate!” cried the rider in an adolescent tone, one that sounded a great deal like Baltazar’s—Runner, they called him.

Divana clutched her fists over her heart as the gates screeched open. But she broke into a run as soon as she realized a man’s body was draped over the back of the second horse. In a heartbeat her blood turned to ice, her breath caught in her throat. No one needed to tell her who it was.

Dear God, he cannot be dead!

Her feet barely touched the stone steps as she raced down the endless spiral stairwell. When she dashed out into the south courtyard, Runner had dismounted while three guardsmen raced toward him. “’Tis Sir Kennan—he’s been shot in the shoulder and thrown from his horse. Quickly! Fetch his da!”

All three men headed for the keep while the big Highlander’s back heaved, hanging upside down over the back of a horse, the animal snorting from exertion.

“Wait!” Divana shouted, relieved to see him breathing. “One of ye alert His Lairdship. The other two, help Sir Kennan to his chamber.”

They gaped at her for a moment.

“Now, please! Make haste.”

While the two returned, she raced to Kennan’s side and placed her hand against his forehead. “Who did this?”

Runner untied the ropes that had kept Kennan’s body in place. “’Twas that scoundrel sergeant—he and his dragoons were lying in wait at Loch Eil—and after the captain received a pardon from the queen herself.”

“This is unbelievable.” Divana’s voice trembled as she wiped streams of blood from Kennan’s beautiful face, willing him to open his eyes. “Do ye ken how to find the healer?”

Throwing his thumb over his shoulder, Runner gave a nod. “Aye, Mistress Ava lives just yonder.”

“Fetch her at once.” Divana secured the horse’s lead line while the two guards stepped near. “Have a care moving him. Can ye see which shoulder is injured?”

“’Tis his left.”

Her stomach twisted. “Saint Columba’s bones.”

Kennan grunted as they slid him from the horse. Though the sound was pained, it filled her with reassurance.

“I’ll carry him above stairs,” said the largest, hoisting the injured heir over his shoulder. “’Tis the only way to ensure we do not jostle his arm.”

“Thank ye.” Divana followed. “Ye’re home, Sir Kennan, and we’ll set ye to rights.” What else could she say? “Please don’t die”? “I cannot survive without you”? “I love you more than the air I breathe”?