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By God’s bones, did she think he’d mated with Euphemia? He couldn’t tell why she was so shocked and what she was thinking.

“I didna marry her,” he said. “And I didna bed her.”

She blinked and finally seemed to rouse from her stupor. She walked into the room, letting the door swing closed. But just before it did, a soft clanging and screams from below caught his attention. A battle?

But the door closed before he could be sure, and she approached the bed and leaned on the mattress with one knee. She cupped his face, and her touch sent a tingle of energy across his skin.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her big, dark eyes so close he could move his head forward and kiss her eyelids. “Did she hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” He swallowed hard, commanding himself to not fall into the depths of her dark eyes. “God Almighty, I’m glad to see ye.”

It was like everything brightened around him, colors gained vibrancy, sounds grew louder, and he was warmer.

But there was no time to fall into any sentiments. Where was Euphemia? She hadn’t come to him yet this morning. He glanced at the door and shook his arms, the handcuffs rattling. Futile, of course.

Rogene glanced at the chains. “Key?”

He shook his head. “I dinna ken.”

She glanced around. “Could it be here?”

“Mayhap.”

She left the bed and began searching through the chests lined against the wall.

“How did ye get here?” Angus asked.

She was dressed as a man and was soaked through, her woolen cape leaving pools of water on the floor.

“Raghnall and Catrìona came, too,” she said as she rummaged in a chest. “Laomann allowed twenty-four warriors to come to save you.”

Angus closed his eyes. Two dozen warriors had come to save him, risking their lives for him—as well as his brother, his sister, and this woman he’d known for only a short time. She hadn’t gone back to the future. She hadn’t run. She’d come to rescue him.

His chest exploded in a burst of warmth.

“Are they all right?” he said.

“They were when I left them.” She went to kneel by another chest. “They’re fighting downstairs.” She looked back at him and their eyes locked. Something ran between them—an understanding, a connection they’d had since the very moment they met.

The door opened and Angus’s heart jolted. A blond figure in a pale-blue dress that highlighted the brilliant blue of her eyes.

Euphemia.

“Are ye looking for this?” she asked, dangling one key on a ring.

Rogene jumped to her feet, pale. She muttered something under her breath, retrieved a dagger, and pointed it at Euphemia.

“Yes,” Rogene said. “Give the key to me.”

Euphemia inhaled deeply and let out a long exhale. Her face took on an angelic expression. Without showing any signs that she was worried, she closed the door behind her and looked at Angus.

“Ah, Lord Angus, yer whore came to rescue ye. Mayhap ’tis true love?” She chuckled and shook her head. “Even better. I dinna need to send anyone to Eilean Donan for her. I can show ye here and now how I treat a harlot who dares to seduce my man.”

* * *

Rogene shook as the pair of icy blue eyes stared into hers. The woman wasn’t big, or tall, or muscular. Or anything. How could she have such power over her? Immobilizing her like this, her feet rooted to the floor, her arms trembling as the handle of the dagger chilled her fingers.

“Leave her alone, Euphemia,” Angus cried.