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He thought of the ring box tucked in his bedside table drawer. Not a family heirloom, but a ring selected because it reminded him of her. The twelve white diamonds surrounded a chocolate-brown diamond almost the same shade as her brilliant rich-brandy eyes.

Predictably, she’d insisted on accompanying him today. It was her right, and he’d conceded without an argument.

“I’m still on pins and needles,” she said, her voice not quite steady as she gripped his hand. “I have been ever since Laird Kennedy arrived at Eytone Hall and said those men had been at Killeaggian Tower prying around about Aunt Jeneva and me. No doubt, Mrs. Morris eagerly filled their ears about our whereabouts.”

She had no idea the fountain of information Mrs. Morris had proven to be.

Emeline’s winged brows dipped together as she pulled her pink mouth into a thin ribbon.

“She’s such a busybody and a gossip, but she was also Aunt Jeneva’s friend. As our closest neighbor, it only seemed reasonable that Aunt asked her to watch the shop and feed Felix while we were away.” Her graceful mouth curved upward the merest bit in a winsome manner. “Honestly, the cat spends as much time at Mrs. Morris’ as he did with Aunt Jeneva. I imagine, I’ll just let her keep him now. Especially since I haven’t yet decided what I’ll do.”

A wistful note leeched into her voice. Her life had been turned upside down through no fault or action of her own. He could sympathize in that respect. Look how long it had taken him to put his life to rights.

He’d expected Emeline wouldn’t be satisfied sitting docilely in the tidy, but narrow four-story house with his mother and sister, embroidering or reading while he searched her aunt’s apartments and shop. And that was why the Kennedy brothers rode an inconspicuous distance behind the coach while Rutherford, Wallace, McGregor, and Catherwood were to have come separately.

They should already be in position, awaiting his and her arrival as planned.

Wallace and Catherwood had been appointed to watch the rear of the building, Rutherford and McGregor the front, and the Kennedys would accompany Emeline and Liam inside. Each Highlander was an experienced warrior, but a shroud of unease lay dense and weighty over him, nevertheless.

The carriage rocked to a stop and then bounced as one of the coachmen descended.

“Lass, the key?” Liam gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze and held out the palm of his other hand.

Wordlessly, Emeline passed him the heavy brass key.

“Ye must promise to do exactly as I say, Em,” he said gently, but firmly. “No arguin’ or hesitatin’. Yer life may depend upon it.”

Her eyes absent their usual brightness, she cast a covert glance to the shade-covered window and nodded. “I ken. I shall.”

Bloody hell.How her damn trepidation infuriated him. Not that he directed the ire toward her, but to the miscreant that had dared threaten her. The poltroon who’d hired others to do his dirty work and was such a coward, he targeted defenseless women.

I’m goin’ to descend first,” he said, reining in his ire. He must keep his wits honed and not permit any distractions. Even in thought. “I want to make sure Logan and Broden are stationed outside before ye alight. I’ve nae doubt that the establishment is bein’ watched. Even now, ’tis possible our arrival has been marked.”

Emeline nervously licked her lower lip, her stunning umber-colored eyes wide and apprehensive.

“Please do be careful, Liam,” she urged, her voice low and husky with her concern. “We ken what these people are capable of. I dinna want ye or the others hurt.”

Cupping her shoulders, he pressed a long, fervent kiss to her forehead, saying with his actions what he wasn’t quite ready to say with words.

That he’d die before he’d allow any harm to come to her.

That he still wrestled with demons from his past, but he believed, with her by his side, he might be able to face the future again.

That she’d set up home in his heart and had commandeered his spirit, and his life was no longer his but hers to do with what she willed.

Shewas his life. His breath. His everything.

He’d tell her those things soon. Verra soon.

Even as a callow youth who’d lusted after the English beauty that had become his first wife, he hadn’t experienced this all-consuming need. To make Emeline his. To take her to his bed and love and worship her until they forgot all else but each other.

He’d need to tell her about the foolishness that had resulted in his forced marriage, though. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to court her otherwise.

“Liam?”

He started, realizing he hadn’t eased her worry.

“I can defend myself, mo chroí. M’anam. Mo grá.” My heart. My soul. My love. He patted the dirk at his waist, rather than in his boot and then his sword. The others had guns as well. “Dinna fash yerself, leannan.”