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David was about to lose her forever. Cut out a part of his soul. He would rather eat dirt than deliver Anna to Philip. But he had to.

She’d said she could not come with him to the future because of her dedication to Scotland and to her father. But did he still want to return to the twenty-first century? Yes, he did. The scholarship, he reminded himself. That chance to prove himself…

But to whom? To his aunt and uncle who’d never truly cared about him? To his dead mother and father? To his sister who already loved and approved of him?

To his old friends who’d probably forgotten his name by now?

He was in love with a Highland princess from the Middle Ages.

But, like she had said, love wasn’t everything.

There was another snap and a rustle behind them. David turned and ducked as an arrow flew past him.

Behind them, dozens of MacDowell and English horses emerged from the shadows. Dugald MacDowell looked astonished as he recognized David next to Anna. They were about fifty feet away.

“Anna!” he yelled, spurring Daisy. “Go!”

She dug her heels into Ayr’s sides, and together they flew across the empty field.

* * *

Shock washed over Anna like a wave of cold seawater. The shadows in the woods behind them were like death coming out of the darkness in the oubliette.

Like the day Dugald MacDowell had ambushed their clan, taken her prisoner, and diminished her to someone insignificant. Someone to forget.

Nae, never again.

She spurred Ayr with the kicks that must have hurt the poor horse. Ayr neighed and launched forward. Anna leaned lower and gripped with her thighs. Running for her life. “Hya!” she cried. “Hya!”

Her dagger was tucked into her girdle, and she wouldn’t hesitate to use it if she had to. She’d kill anyone before she’d let them take her again.

“Hya!” cried David, who rode by her side just a little behind her. “Hya!”

“Get them!” she heard Dugald’s voice. “Faster, ye bastarts!”

Arrows flew around them, spiking the ground. If only her father noticed them galloping through the field. If only he could send help. How stupid would it be if Anna was caught so close to him? And she wouldn’t let them have David. Never.

“Father!” she called.

“King Robert!” roared David through the thunder of hooves.

There were three hundred yards between them and Bruce’s camp when she saw anti-cavalry troops run towards them, their pikes swaying in the air. Dozens of them, then hundreds. Horsemen mounted and galloped to their aid.

And then she saw the MacDonalds.

Uncle Aulay, impossible to miss, held his claymore high in the air as he galloped roaring the MacDonald war cry, “Clann Domnhnaill! Clann Domnhnaill!”

Right by his side, Colum, like a dark warrior on his black horse, galloped with a bow in his hands, shooting arrows at the enemy. Behind them, first dozens, then hundreds of warriors—Scottish knights, MacDonald men, and those of other Highland clans—galloped at the enemy with a battle roar. Bruce’s banner moved towards her quickly.

From her right and behind her, hoofbeats drummed louder and louder. Her hands and feet going numb with fear, she turned.

Dugald.

Just like that first damned day, he was upon her. She took out her dirk. She wouldn’t make just a scratch this time. “’Tis over, lass,” he growled, reaching for the reins. “Dinna fight this or ye will be hurt.”

She slashed at his arm. Her dirk opened the sleeve of his tunic right above the gauntlet, splashing crimson on her. Dugald yelled in pain but didn’t stop, and the taste of the blood of her enemy made her stomach churn.

But it gave her more determination and more fight.