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Not just any Duncraig clansmen—the chief’s sons.

’Twas daring coming here this way. Though her brother would never condone an unprovoked attack against two men, there were many less scrupulous clan chiefs who would not hesitate to do so, even at the risk of beginning a new clan war. Both sons came alone and apparently unarmed, if she understood the gist of what was happening.

They’d given up their weapons.

’Twas no use. She could not get through this way. Instead, Avelina went around the gathered men to the other side, an impenetrable circle seemingly having been formed. Dammit. There were so many times, this one included, that Avelina rued the day she’d been born a woman and not a man.

A man would use his brute strength to push through. And though she was not as strong as any of those gathered before her, perhaps ’twas their boldness that mattered just as much. And so, instead of gently pushing on the backs of her clansmen, Avelina pretended she were one of them, and without hesitation, pushed with all her might. Sure enough, though the odd looks she received told her they were taken aback, Avelina was able to push through to the front of the circle.

She finally could both see and hear what was happening at the same time.

“We would speak to you alone,” the handsome one said to her brother.

Nay, they were both handsome. And large. And fearsome looking. But the one who spoke to Ewan now had a look about him that Avelina could not tear her gaze from. Unrelenting. Intense. He stared down her brother as if Ewan were not the powerful clan chief he’d become. As if not even the king of Scotland himself would intimidate him. His brown hair curled in the most magnificent ways to and fro. Squarish cheekbones. Chin held high. A stance that defied the odds, given he and his brother were surrounded on all sides.

But of all that captivated her about him, ’twas his voice that most penetrated her very core. ’Twas deep and strong. Deliberate, and dare she think it, as sensual a voice as Avelina had ever heard before.

“You asked for an audience and have one. Speak your piece, Duncraig.”

“Alone,” was the only word he spoke.

Fergus stepped closer to her brother. The circle of men became impatient. Aye, these men were her enemy. Her greatest enemies, in fact, for it was their clan that had taken her father, her grandfather, two of Avelina’s uncles. . .

And yet, for all of that, and for her desire to train with a bow, there was one thing Avelina despised above all. Bloodshed.

As a girl, she’d vomited the first time she saw her brother injured. Her aversion to blood did not begin and end with humans either. When an animal was injured, even for the sake of becoming food that sustained her family and clan, Avelina could not witness it. She even attempted, for a time, not to eat anything that could be killed, but she’d grown so sick that her brother forced her to eat rabbit for every meal for days until the color had come back to her cheeks.

The fear that blood might be drawn in front of her—even if it were of these men who deserved nothing less than quick deaths for their clan’s role in the demise of her family—spurred Avelina.

“This is not an audience,” she said, speaking clearly and stepping into the circle. She might not be chief, but she was the sister of the chief. Daughter of the late chief. And the only woman present. Sometimes Avelina wondered what she and her fellow sisterhood of women could do if only they were allowed to rule as the men did. Likely, there would be less war. “’Tis an assailment.”

Every single man present, including the Duncraig clansmen, turned to her. Looked at her.

He looked at her.

Avelina had no notion of what she’d been about to say. Every thought, every intention, simply vanished. She was certain her brother was also looking at her, murderously no doubt, but she could not validate the thought. Because she locked eyes with a pair the color of the sky. On a sunny day. Light blue. A shade Avelina was certain she’d never seen before. Yet somehow, even though they were such a bright, vibrant color, his gaze was anything but friendly.

“Lady Avelina,” her brother said, breaking the spell.

Indeed, if he used her title, he was vexed with her. She reluctantly looked his way. Arguing with the chief in front of others would earn her ears a severe lecture. But she cared not.

“If they were any other men—”

“They are not,” Ewan said, the word “not” with an emphasis none could mistake, “any other men. We will treat here or not at all.”

She would try one final time. But before she could say anything, the Duncraig chief’s son spoke up. “MacKinlay cattle were found grazing on Duncraig land along the northern border.” He said that looking at her but now turned his attention to Ewan.

“Impossible. Our lands do not border. They would have had to be led there through Tannochbrae land.”

Everyone began speaking at once. Nay, shouting. All saying the same thing. That unless someone wished to start a war anew with their clans, ’twas impossible for their cattle to be so far southeast. As they spoke, Avelina once again caught the gaze of chief’s second. This time, he appeared slightly less hostile. And even perhaps. . . appreciative. Of her intervention? Or something else?

She’d been called beautiful many times. Avelina’s opinion of herself was of a pretty woman who could perhaps be more so if she chose to wear rouge on her cheeks or spent the time necessary to pile her hair atop her head in the latest style. Instead, she was what her brother often referred to as. . . wild. Untamed.

She took a step toward the chief’s second.

He did the same.

Without notice, they came together until Avelina was so close to him if he reached out to grab her, the man could do so easily. She opened her mouth, unsure what was to come out. . . and Ewan suddenly reached out to grab her, pulling her behind him. Though she struggled to free her arm, he would not relent.