Glendragon jerked at his bridle, demanding Duncan’s attention; the stallion’s powerful muscles rippled, his nostrils flaring at the scent of death. His might was leashed and awaiting his master’s command, but Duncan kept him tightly reined, even as his own frustration grew.
Through thirteen years of hell in the English Tower, he’d stayed alive for this day. Through the beatings, the cold, the pain…the crippling of his hand. He’d endured all of it to taste this one moment of triumph. With this attack, he’d finally initiated his revenge against the MacDonells. Now he hungered to take back theEalach, to steal it from this nest of vipers and return it to its true home.
Mist floated from the cliff’s edge, revealing several corpses sprawled on the field.There.The bitter tang of vengeance filled Duncan’s mouth, and savage joy flared through him. The MacDonell chieftain’s body still steamed from the heat of battle; it lay in a death-pose next to his shield.
But as Duncan spurred Glendragon toward the remains, a young soldier darted forward. Without a moment’s caution the intruder leaned over the body and embraced it before pulling open its shirt to grasp at something inside.
“Nay!” Duncan’s growl of rage rolled across the battlefield. The thief looked up, startled, then stood and wrenched off his helmet…freeing a cascading mass of red-gold hair.
In that instant disbelief washed over Duncan, and his blood beat faster.Morgana? The murdering bitch was here on the battlefield?But he’d learned that she was dead, brought low in banishment not long after betraying him to the English. Nudging his stallion closer, he stared down at his mortal enemy, unwilling to accept the truth his eyes beheld. That face, exquisite as ever, the slender build, the flaming hair…
Raw hatred spilled into the battle lust surging through his veins, igniting it with lethal potency; his sword arm tensed as he raised it in preparation to swing the death blow that would finally bring Morgana MacDonell to her just reward. But before he could act, she took several steps toward him, stilling him as effectively as if she’d shot an arrow through his heart.
Dark honey eyes stared up at him—eyes as golden brown as Morgana’s had been piercing blue. They shone luminous with grief that the bloodthirsty sorceress would have been incapable of feeling. This wasn’t Morgana, but a stunning likeness of her…all but for the eyes and the emotions that played freely across her delicate features.
“May you roast in hell for what you’ve done here, murdering MacRae!”
Duncan’s impression of tender femininity vanished.
Her body shook with pent-up feeling. “Come and finish it then. You’ve killed the chieftain, now slay his seed as well!”
Calm filled Duncan.Morgana’s sister. Of course. This one had been no more than a chit those years ago—too young to have taken part in the massacre against his clan. Sweeping his gaze over her, he scowled. “I seek not your life, woman, only the amulet. Give it to me and go in peace.”
“Peace?” Her face twisted into a mask of fury. “What know you of God’s peace?” The gilded talisman dangled from her grip, swinging on its golden chain as she taunted him. “I swear on the blood of my father that I will forfeit my life before I relinquish theEalachto you.”
A dangerous cold seeped from Duncan’s chest to the tips of his gauntleted fingers. The amulet was his. He’d be denied no more. “Cease, woman,” he thundered. “Give it to me or face retribution when I take it from you.” He urged Glendragon forward, threatening to fulfill his words with action.
“Then do your worst, MacRae. But I’ll not be standing by for the kill.” Her eyes glowed with defiance, and every muscle of her slim form seemed to go rigid. Tense.
Too late, Duncan realized her intent. He followed her gaze over the cliff’s edge, down the precipice to the cold, gray surf that crashed to the rocks below. Suddenly, she whirled and raced toward the ledge. Duncan’s wordless roar filled the air, and he launched himself off Glendragon, charging forward to catch her.
But she was too quick. He reached out, trying to grab her, desperate to stop her from going over the cliff…
And wound up holding nothing as she threw herself from the bluff.
The moment seemed to spin itself out into eternity, slowing to an agonizing string of images that burned forever into Duncan’s soul. Tightness filled his chest when he saw her graceful arms stretching out, saw her hair streaming behind her like a wave of silken fire. In the next instant he glimpsed her face with its wide-eyed, haunted expression, her mouth opened in a soundless shriek of terror as the wind tipped her over, and then over again in her plummet toward the deadly surf.
And as she fell, a shaft of sun burst through the clouds. It glinted for just a moment off the amulet she held tightly in her hand, before it disappeared with her beneath the punishing, pounding waves.
Chapter 2
Duncan’s senses exploded, his emotions coiling into shock as he peered over the rocky ledge. The woman chose death over relinquishing theEalach? Waves surged, and white foam rolled with crushing force against the narrow band of jagged rocks lining the beach. There was no sign of her.
The salty air burned his nostrils as he stalked the precipice, and he felt a grinding sensation in his stomach.Those eyes.Those wide, haunted eyes. He couldn’t erase the image of them from his mind. He told himself it was just the aftermath of battle. But the sensation snaked at his gut, relentless, harping.
Curse her. She was a reckless harridan, a witless shrew…
A frightened, helpless female.
He fought the swell of guilt twisting his belly. She’d resisted, damn it. And she was the enemy. Morgana’s sister. The thought stilled his uneasiness, settling ice into his veins once more. He had to regroup. His mission here was unfinished.
Swinging astride Glendragon, he rode onto the battlefield. The day was won, but chaos stilled reigned, and it took time to find Kinnon. His cousin sat with several other warriors on the bluff, his tunic stripped from his torso to tend a wound to his shoulder. Blood seeped from between his fingers, and he looked up in surprise, wincing when Duncan pushed his hand away to tie a makeshift bandage with a strip torn from his shirt.
“This should hold for an hour or two. Come. We’ve work to do.”
Kinnon frowned and ran his hand through his sweat-dampened hair. Even matted from battle, strands of it shone white-blond in the sun that had burned away the morning mist. “God’s head, cousin, do you never rest?”
“Nay,” Duncan muttered, quelling his impatience with action. He grasped Kinnon’s good arm and pulled him to his feet. “Now find Gil, Ewen and Hamish, and meet me at the base of the bluff. I’ll explain when we get there.” He tossed Glendragon’s reins to a soldier and began to stalk across the field, pausing only long enough to half turn and growl, “Hurry.”
