Page 44 of In the Highlander's Bed

She reached out to touch his golden hair, wanting to see if it was as silky as it appeared. She stopped just when the tips of her fingers could reach him.

Her feelings for him weren’t wise.

But sometimes the heart challenged wisdom.

After all, hadn’t her sister Charlotte married a man who was once her enemy? And Miranda had defied not only their father, but all society, to marry a half-breed.

In light of that…what was one Scottish rebel?

Constance pulled her hand back, suddenly all too aware of the risks.

Charlotte and Miranda were stronger than she. They were more intelligent and far more lovely. She was just the youngest and the least graceful. Everyone was always telling her she was too young to know her own mind. What if they were correct?

She formed a pillow of her arms, ensuring that her hands would not be tempted to touch him again. She had to keep her wits about her. She had to be wise.

That was her last thought as she drifted off to sleep.

Constance was attempting to paddle a canoe in swirling, angry waters. Mad Maggie sat in front of her, shouting that they were going to die and it would be her fault. She wanted her to be quiet but the crone kept rocking the boat back and forth until it was in danger of tipping completely—

The tightening of a hand on her shoulder woke Constance with a gasp. A woman about her age with hair the color of cinnamon leaned over her, the woman whom Gordon had ordered to take care of Mad Maggie. He’d called her Fiona.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Fiona said, rocking back on her heels.

Constance nodded that she was fine as shepushed her hair back from her eyes. Her braid had fallen out in her sleep. She started to rise and realized she was alone on the pallet. Gordon was gone. Tad, once again, guarded the doorway, his ears alert as he watched Fiona’s every move.

“Don’t mind the dog,” Fiona said. “He listens to me as well as Gordon. I can slip you by him—” Her words broke off with a soft sound of distress. She took hold of Constance’s wrist. “He hurt you. He promised he wouldn’t.”

“He didn’t do this on purpose,” Constance said, defending Gordon. “It was what happened.”

Fiona pressed her lips together as if trying to hold words, but she failed. “It was what happenedbecausehe brought you here,” she said in a flash of temper. “Please, gather what things you have quickly. If I am to help you escape, we must hurry.”

“Help me?”

“To escape,” Fiona said impatiently, rising to her feet and shaking off her black skirts.

The last traces of sleepiness in Constance scattered. “You want me to leave? You’re helping me?”

“Yes,”Fiona said. “My brother has gone too far. You’ll bring the English down upon us. I don’t want that. None of us wants that.”

There was true fear in her voice, fear Constance ignored because she was too stunned by this new information. “Gordon is your brother?”

“Myhalfbrother,” Fiona said, as if wishing to disclaim him. “We don’t look much alike.”

She was right. Her eyes were brown, her hair red to his blond…but Constance could also see a resemblance. It was there in the way she held her head, the sensual curve of her lip, and the aristocratic tone to her voice.

“Your brother has not harmed me,” Constance said.

“But he could,” Fiona warned. “You must go now. I’ve prepared a pack with food.” She moved to a cloth bundle on the tack chest. “I told Gordon I would see to your needs today since he will be busy drilling the men. That gives you at least ten hours. I don’t know about a horse, but it would be best to walk anyway—”

“You would betray your brother?” Constance interrupted.

Fiona drew herself away at the accusation. “I’m protectingyou.”

Something about the way she said those words set Constance on guard. There was a fragility to Fiona. She appeared strong and whole, but she wasn’t. Someone, or something, had hurt this woman.

“Your brother is leader of this clan,” Constance answered. “To betray him betrays all.”

“Youcan’tstay.” Fiona snatched up the bundle.