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He gave Ian a long look. “Come through, you bloody Scot. But know this. Your true king, Edward—not the spawn who calls himself King of Scots—will come and claim what’s his. Your home. And if you dare to take up arms against him, your father won’t be the only corpse your pretty wife has to bury.”

The man leered at Kate. A low growl was born in Ian’s gut, and he had to physically stop himself from letting it out. Something must have shown in his expression because fear flashed through the man’s face, and his hand shot to the sword at his belt. Black and red filled Ian’s vision, the urge to act gnawing at his bones.

A soft, warm hand covered his and squeezed it.

“Let’s go, Ian,” Kate said firmly.

Almost startled, he glanced at her. Her face looked calm, but in her eyes, he saw worry and even fear. That steadied him, made him take a deep breath that cleaned the fury away and brought him back.

“Aye,” he said without taking his eyes off her.

Then, when he felt sober enough, he turned to the Englishman.

“Yer king will never be my king.”

Then he lashed the reins, and the horse walked.

“What does it all mean?” Kate said when they were some distance away.

“It means, everything from here till pretty much home is infested with the enemy.”

The enemy in a war he didn’t want to fight.

“The English are the enemy?” Kate said.

“Aye.”

“But why?”

“Because King Edward doesna want to acknowledge our rightful king, King Robert the Bruce. I didna ken all of that until I traveled through England. The English Crown pushed John Comyn as the next claimant to the Scottish throne. I was told Bruce opposed it and proclaimed himself king. Many clans supported him, although some, including the MacDougalls, still oppose him. The English king became furious. He sent an army to stop Bruce and succeeded. Bruce had to run with the few supporters that he had, including my uncle Neil. My clan has always been loyal to him and always will be. My uncle organized a galley to take Bruce to hide in the Western Isles. The Bruce came back last year, slowly winning his way through the Highlands and gaining more supporters. Now the course of the war has changed in his favor.”

They were arriving at the village of Rossely now. Low stone houses with thatched roofs stood close to one another. The streets were wet with mud after the rain. Chickens and geese walked around, goats bleated, people carried buckets of water from the well or baskets with food and firewood. Somewhere, a blacksmith hammered at the anvil, tong, tong, tong. The air smelled of woodsmoke and freshly baked bread. Ian promised himself he’d never take the sights, sounds, and smells of home for granted again.

Among the villagers, there were knights in expensive armor bearing the red standard with yellow lions. The English.

Their speech hurt Ian’s ears. He glanced around—everywhere were people who might come for his home.

“I dinna think we should stay here tonight,” he said. “I’m sorry, lass, but we’ll have to sleep outside again.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Are ye strong enough?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She pressed out a smile.

“All right.”

As they drove through without stopping, Ian felt heavy gazes on him like hot coals. His hand twitched to reach out for his sword. He felt vulnerable and naked without a weapon.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t kill again.

But how could he keep that promise when the enemy was at his doorstep, he didn’t know.

Chapter 7

Two days later…

Kate’s heart squeezed almost to the point of pain when she saw Dundail.