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“Owen!” Amber cried.

He kicked a heavy paw off himself, and she helped him stand up and dragged him away. They both stood at the mouth of the cave staring at the dead animal, a pool of blood forming around its head.

“Are you okay?” she said. “Let me see.”

She touched his shoulder in an attempt to turn him and see his wounds, but he jerked away.

This was his fault. She’d tempted him again. And after all the promises he’d made to stay away from her and not get distracted, he’d done it again. He’d gotten distracted and they both could have died.

She frowned at him in surprise and hurt.

“We almost died because of me,” he said.

Her face smoothed in shock. “What?”

“Aye. If ye had nae kissed me, if I had nae given in to yer charms…”

Now it wasn’t just a matter of failing his king and his family, it was a matter of failing her. She’d almost been hurt because of his inability to be responsible and focus.

This was a good slap in the face, a reminder he couldn’t give in to temptation.

Next time, it might not be a bear, it could be an English sword that put an end to everything he was fighting for.

Chapter 23

One week later…

The watchmen on the walls shouted and ran, and Owen stopped in the middle of the courtyard on his way to the great hall.

Someone was coming.

His heart drummed against his rib cage. He saw Amber in the courtyard and longed to talk to her. She was the only one who knew he’d sent a messenger to the Bruce.

In a dark-blue dress, her hair split into two braids joined at the back of her head, she looked like a noble lady from his time. Ever since Amy had given her some clothes and helped her look less like a contemporary woman, he’d imagined her here with him like that every day, and something ached sweetly in his chest.

Something that would never be.

“’Tis the Bruce!” one of the sentinels cried. “And his army.” The man ran towards the great hall to tell the rest of the clan.

Owen’s gut churned. His father was about to find out he’d disobeyed him. “By God’s bones…” he muttered.

He was in trouble whether the Bruce listened to him or not. Rather than confront his father, he rushed up the wall to see the Bruce’s arrival for himself.

He flew up the stone stairs attached to the wall and stood there watching the crowd of men move over the green hills towards the castle from the north. A standard-bearer rode ahead displaying the Bruce clan’s colors, two red lines crossing like a letter X on a yellow background.

“Owen!” a furious cry came from the courtyard.

Owen gritted his teeth and went down the steps under the lethal gaze of his father.

“By God’s blood, what did ye do?” Dougal growled. “Did ye send word to him?”

Owen stood before his da, a part of him trembling like a little boy, but he raised his chin high. He had nothing to prove and nothing to apologize for. He hadn’t made a mistake this time.

“Aye,” he said. “I did.”

“Ye stupid, stupid lad. What if ye bring shame on this family again?”

“I wilna. If ’tis shame that comes, it will be mine and mine alone. I swear if I’m wrong about this—and I’m nae wrong—I’ll leave forever, and ye’ll never see me again.”