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He was odd, using strange words she’d never heard, and his stories included objects and notions she didn’t understand.

They ate the trout and the rest of his bread, and at night, he made a shelter from one of his blankets. As they settled down to sleep and he rolled out his bedroll, they both lay on it, and he pulled her closer to him. His body, big and hard and warm, was everything that was reassuring and good about the world as she dozed off in his arms.

She was warm, she was safe, and for the first time in days, there was no darkness haunting her.

There was only the scent of a man, and of woodsmoke and of grilled trout.

* * *

David peered at the coast near Ayr from behind a dune. Anna, who was by his side, shook her head in disbelief.

“They’re nae here,” she murmured, her eyes on the sea. “Why is the ship nae here?”

David scanned the platter of the sea, leaden in the evening light. No ships. Not even to their right, where far ahead, the outline of the town of Ayr was visible.

“And you’re sure they were supposed to stay here?”

“Aye.” She pointed at some large rocks on the beach. Next to the rocks were about twenty tents. “Uncle Aulay helped me pack my horse by those rocks.”

“Then who are they?”

Forty or so horses grazed at the edge of the beach where sparse grass started. Four dozen men sat around campfires, cooked, played dice games, trained on swords, and shot arrows at targets.

Anna’s gaze was dark on the camp. “Who do ye think?”

He strained his eyes, watching for any signs of the enemy. From about a hundred feet away from them, all he could see were warriors in léintean-croich, some of them with linen and chain mail coifs on their heads. “MacDowells?”

“Aye. And they have yer horse.” She pointed her chin at the horses.

“You’re right,” he said, eyeing his light-brown Highland pony. “Daisy is there.”

She had been his companion these last two years and had gone with him north and south. She was somewhat shorter and sturdier than the other horses, and the middle of her mane had a sand-colored stripe.

For the past two days, traveling without Daisy, he’d missed her like a friend. Though having Anna by his side had been a pleasant distraction. The feeling he had around her reminded him of the few times he’d gotten high with his friends in Chicago.

He looked at Anna. The two days they had spent walking northeast had done her good. Under normal circumstances, she should have rested, drunk plenty of liquids, eaten a healthy diet, and slept a lot. But instead, she’d traveled on foot, built fires, gathered berries and mushrooms, and even killed a partridge.

But still, her cheeks had gained color, there was a brighter shine in her chocolate eyes, and she smiled more and more often while they walked and talked. The trembling, shell-shocked girl he’d fetched out of the depths of the oubliette was disappearing. She’d still clung to him tightly during the two nights they’d spent outdoors, in the darkness. But during the day, he thought, the freedom of the open road, the air, and nature had done her good.

Staring at the camp, she gasped.

David followed her gaze. “What?”

“Do ye see that older man in chain mail? He’s shouting at someone.”

“Yeah,” David said.

He was in his forties, although his gray hair and beard aged him. He was clearly a strong man with broad shoulders and a thick neck. Stooping, the man gesticulated broadly, his face red, yelling at a younger warrior who stood with his neck hidden between his shoulders.

“Who is he?” David asked.

“The bastart who put me in the oubliette. Dugald MacDowell.”

Anger flooded David’s blood like intoxication. He wanted to hit the man for doing that to Anna.

“We should go,” he said. “Now. Clearly, they’re serious about finding you if even the chief of the clan and constable of the castle himself is after you.”

Anna looked at the horses. “Aye. ’Tis only thirteen days left till John the Baptist, and only six until the day I am supposed to meet my betrothed.”