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Aidan spat. “The English. You mean the same ones who—”

“Our own countrymen are not above reproach in this dispute,” Graeme reminded him. Reivers from both sides wreaked havoc on the borderlands, taking advantage of the growing instability at the expense of all.

The girl he’d rescued stood, and nearly fell. He rushed forward to grab her, loosing another round of gratitude from her mother.

“Where will you rest your head tonight?” he asked.

“My cousin lives just there,” her mother said, pointing to a home not far from them.

“Your husband?”

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Graeme murmured, knowing now why no one had detached the roof when the raiders were spotted.

He turned back to his brother and MacDuff.

“We’ll help put this back in order,” he said. “And then I leave directly for Kenshire Castle in the morn.”

“And I with you,” Aidan said.

“The attack was against my clan. I’ll be coming as—”

“Nay, remain with your new babe,” he said, aware he had no right to give MacDuff orders. “And you”—he turned to Aidan—“will ensure there’s no repeat of this night at Highgate.” He spoke not as a brother, but as the chief of Clan Scott. As such, Aidan had no recourse but to agree with him.

Graeme waited. His brother was only passably adept at following orders.

“You’ll take the men with you?” Aidan said finally.

“I will,” he agreed, picking the girl back up.

Though he had no desire to attend a celebration of any sort, let alone the May Day celebration he’d been invited to across the border, this attack could just as easily have been on Clan Scott land. A meeting with their southern neighbors was more imperative now than ever.

He would do what he must to keep his people and his allies safe.

Even if it meant seeing Emma, the woman who had rejected his proposal of marriage in favor of another.

* * *

“Emma, give the poor woman a moment to recover,” Lady Sara said.

Gillian smiled at her old friend, the Countess of Kenshire, and reached behind her back. “Don’t be silly. I’m happy to answer her questions. But first . . .” She extended her hand to Lady Emma and opened it. “Though it’s already five months past, I wanted to offer congratulations on your wedding.” This had been the longest she’d been away from Kenshire, but their dwindling funds made it difficult to travel.

Emma stared at the silver-plated comb for a moment and then clasped it between her fingers.

“’Tis lovely,” she murmured.

Not quite as lovely as the woman who would wear it, but Gillian kept that thought to herself. Emma, the only sister of Sara’s husband Geoffrey, was indeed a vision. More importantly, Sara loved her, which was the only recommendation she needed.

“Sara told me your hair was as black as your brother’s, so I thought the amber stones would be perfect.”

Emma threw her arms around her, and Gillian hugged her back, pleased by the artless show of affection.

“Thank you,” Emma said, releasing her.

“So tell me,” Sara interrupted, obviously forgetting her admonishment to Emma. “What is this about the Earl of Covington? It cannot be true.”

Gillian reached down to lift the sides of her gown as she sat in a cushioned chair in the corner of the solar, where they’d retired after dinner to speak privately. The room had always been one of her favorites at Kenshire.