“I pointed out the direction,” Rabbie admitted reluctantly. When his laird turned a furious expression on him, he shrugged helplessly. “She ordered me to tell her. She is chatelaine here now, me laird. I tried to convince her not to go, but she is fair stubborn.”

Duncan grimaced over that and strode into the stables to fetch his mount. Moments later, he was heading out of the bailey.

Scotland was a wild and lovely land. Unfortunately, it was also damned confusing. Determined to have the spices the keep needed, Iliana had started out very confident as she had left Dunbar. The stablemaster had pointed out the direction toward Innes land and she had thought she would have no problem finding it when she left. She had thought wrong. It had been close to an hour since she had left the keep and she was no longer even sure she was still heading in the direction in which he had pointed. Nor was she sure in which direction she should go to return home.

Bringing her mount to a halt, Iliana peered about. All there was to see were trees, rolling green hills, and craggy cliffs. They all looked the same. Nothing looked the least familiar, but then why should it? She was a stranger here. Deciding she would get nowhere by sitting about, Iliana urged her horse forward again, but after another hour of riding, she decided she’d best stop and take the lay of the land again.

She was just slowing her mount to do so when men began dropping from the trees around her. A startled scream slipped from her throat, but then her attention was forced to her mount as the mare began to rear beneath her. Before Iliana could regain control of the animal, one of the men did so for her, grabbing the reins and tugging her back to all fours, then murmuring soothingly to the beast as he eyed her.

Nibbling viciously at her lower lip, Iliana peered at the men surrounding her. There were six of them altogether. Tall, grim-looking men who were eyeing her in a most unfriendly manner. Were they from Innes? She hoped so.

The man holding her reins said something in Gaelic and Iliana frowned as the gobbledygook of words hit her ears. She forced a polite smile. “’Tis sorry I am to admit it, but I fear I have not learned your language yet.”

There was silence as he absorbed her accent, then he murmured, “A Sassenach?”

“Aye.” Iliana managed a smile. “I am Iliana of Wildwood, the new wife of Duncan Dunbar, and you, I hope, are of the McInnes clan?”

There was a moment as the men all shared surprised glances, then the speaker nodded slowly. “If ye be o’ Dunbar, what be ye doin’ ridin’ about on yer own? And why’re ye on Innes land?”