It was hard to convince herself that he hadn’t forgotten all about her.
A man stood on the battlements watching the boats approach and leave again.
MacLeod was back.
The chief was too late, but the man shuddered nonetheless. Though he did not fear discovery—yet—betraying a man like the Chief of MacLeod was a terrifying prospect. If he were caught, the best he could hope for was a quick death. More likely the ruthless warrior would rip off his head and feed him to his dogs for a snack.
His face paled and bile crept up his throat. Despite the cold wind, he dabbed a sheen of sweat from his brow. Dear Lord, he wasn’t cut out for this. What had his uncle been thinking?
He consoled himself that at least for now, the MacLeod chief was looking in the wrong direction.
“The Greatest swordsman in the isles,” they called him. MacLeod’s chief’s increasing power in the isles had not gone unnoticed, earning him many enemies. Enemies eager to see him fall. First, however, he had to find proof.
