Gregor peered through the thicket.

"Can you see anything?" Dougal asked.

"Aye. I can see both of them. It looks as if they're having a picnic." He glared at Dougal. "So much for

your thought that Kincaid was bringing her here to murder her."

"I didn't suggest any such thing."

Gregor lifted a brow.

Dougal flushed. "I don't trust him, that's all."

"Sometimes I think he truly cares for her. Right now, he's looking at her as if she's the only woman in

the world. I wonder if he knows he does that."

Dougal scowled. "He needs a good thumping to wake him up. She's the best woman on the earth, andhe's a fool not to realize it."

"Aye."

"And we should be over there, protecting her. I don't trust him, and neither did you until recently."

"Has it ever dawned on you that he's had many a chance to harm her if he wished? A push down the

stairs, a bit of poison in her daily tea. It wouldn't be so difficult," Gregor pointed out.

Dougal scratched his chin, then peered through the leaves. "Oh, G.o.d. He's going to kiss her. I hate seeing that."

The brothers turned away, resting against the tree trunk. Silence reigned, except for the bubbling of the brook.

Finally, Dougal looked at Gregor. "I hate to admit it, but perhaps you are right. We don't need to be

here."

Gregor nodded, and they headed back for their horses.

Dougal turned to duck under a low branch, then pausing, peering back into the woods.

"What is it?" Gregor asked.

Dougal stared a moment longer, his blond head c.o.c.ked to one side. Finally, he shrugged. "I thought I

saw something, but whatever it was, it's gone. Probably nothing."

They crossed the small stream, and suddenly, a shot rang out.

Dougal turned a white face to his brother, and both of them yelled,"Fiona!"

Then they were running, through the trees, over fallen logs, their booted feet thudding, their breath

harsh.

They turned the corner in the overgrown path and burst into the clearing.

"Fiona!" Gregor charged across the clearing to where she lay on the blanket, a red stain spreading

across her gown, her face alarmingly pale. On the blanket beside her was Jack's pistol. Fury flooded him as he scooped up his sister, and lightning cracked overhead.

"To the village," Dougal said grimly, tucking the gun into his waistband. "Old Nora knows more about

medicine than any doctor."

Gregor nodded, striding toward their horses with Fiona alarmingly still in his arms. How had he let this happen? As clouds gathered with amazing swiftness, he handed Fiona to Dougal, who was already astride his mount.

Dougal immediately set off at a gallop.

As Gregor swiftly followed, he silently swore vengeance. And not just on Jack Kincaid, but on the entire family who'd brought that son of a b.i.t.c.h into this world. h.e.l.l was now roused.

Chapter Twenty.

Aye, they brought her to me, they did. Two more desperate men I've never seen. And all the while I was tendin' her, the lightning and wind roared overhead, shakin' the ground and rippin' the trees from theearth 'til even the bravest fell to their knees and prayed. OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT.

Jack awoke slowly, as if layers of gauze were slowly drawn from his mind. He was lying on a plank floor with his hands tied behind him. His head ached powerfully. Overhead, thunder rumbled and roared, so loud it shook the ground.

He shivered at the sound, a part of his mind searching for something-a lost thought or a memory or- Fiona.

Horror trembled through him.

"Here, now. Ye be awake already, eh?"

Lightning split the air, lighting the face of the man who stood in the darkness. He was broad, his arms

powerful, his face heavily lined and dirty. Lank hair fell over his eyes; his nose was bulbous. A crash of thunder made the man glance at the window. He frowned. "'Tis a horrible storm. I've never seen the like." Jack knew that storm meant Fiona's brothers were somewhere, their hearts as torn as his own. He tried not to think of the blood on her gown. Shecouldn't be dead. He could not accept it. He'd thought they'd be protected, with Hamish and Devonsgate and the two footmen. What had gone wrong? Who had done this, and why?

He had to escape, reach Fiona. Save her. His heart burned at the thought, and he looked around to see what he had to overcome. He was in a shed of some sort, tackle hanging from the walls, the smell of hay and horses strong.

The man pushed Jack with his boot, the hard leather digging between his ribs. "Awake, are ye?"

The man was too happy by far. "Where am I?"

"Where I was tol' to keep ye until 'tis time."

"Time for what?"

Another flash of lightning cracked, eerily lighting the man's face. "Time to let ye go, o' course."

That made no sense. "You're not going to kill me?"

The man's grin didn't waver. "I could. I've done it afore. But this time, I gets me money fer doin' nothin'

more than holdin' ye fer a bit. Ye see, everyone thinks the constable will be wishing to speak to ye. Ye'l

tell them ye were captured by a mysterious man, but I'll be long gone by then. No one will believe ye."

The man leaned closer, his foul breath in Jack's face. "They'll think ye're making excuses fer killing yer woman."

Despair gripped Jack, numbing his brain.

"Here, now, perhaps I should stand ye up a bit so I can sees ye better." The man roughly grabbed Jack by the arms and hauled him to his feet.

Pain lanced through him. "The ties. They are too tight."

"What do I care fer that?"

Jack thought quickly. "If they leave marks, they will verify my story."

The man swore. "d.a.m.n, they might at that. Very well. I'll loosen them, but just a bit." He reached behind Jack and fumbled with the ropes.

Jack felt the knot loosen, then slip free.

The man grabbed the ends to retie them, but Jack was faster. He flung up his arm, his elbow catching his captor on the chin.

As the man stumbled back, Jack grabbed the lantern and swung it with all his might into the man's face.

"Argh!"

Jack bolted for the door, out into the yard of an inn that looked vaguely familiar. Where in the h.e.l.l was he?

A noise came from the shed, and Jack scrambled behind a barrel. Crouched there, he rubbed his wrists and forced his sluggish mind to work. By G.o.d, he would find out who had done this and make them pay.

Blinding lightning flashed, and the shed exploded before Jack's bemused eyes, splintered wood flying through the air. Thunder crashed and rolled, the very ground shaking.

Inside what remained of the shed, fire flickered as the straw began to catch, then smoke poured from the windows. Jack's captor staggered out into the yard, collapsing in a gasping heap.