"My nephew?" Red Alex said, walking closer.

Soon his face was visible, if shadowed, and Fayth wished again she'd killed him when the opportunity had presented itself. She kept her head down, prayed he would not recognize her, knowing that for a fool's wish. When he was beside Bear's withers, she drew the dirk up, to threaten him. His hand clamped down on her wrist, twisting and squeezing until her fingers sprang open, dropping the dirk to the ground.

He did not release her. She met his blue eyes, burning into hers. He was smiling and she mimicked it, her lips curling, her breath hissing between bared teeth.

"Ah, of course," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "My nephew."

0="6"6.

HIS GRIP DIDN'T LESSEN as he dragged her from Bear's saddle, then pulled her into the clearing. Several crude shelters had been erected in the border manner-thatch and mud, easy to construct, no great loss if destroyed. She guessed there were maybe two dozen men, but didn't have the opportunity to count. He shoved her into the largest of the shelters. She stumbled several paces, rubbing her arm. He let the rug that served as a door fall shut. The one-room shelter was lit by a candelabra-stolen, she was certain. There was a pallet and blankets, the remains of a meal, and a wad of bloodied linen. There was also a wide array of weaponry.

Fayth lunged for a Lochaber ax leaning against the wall, but he was quicker, grasping the neck of her tunic and jerking her back. She swung, her balled fist making contact with stubbled jaw. His head snapped back, but he held fast. She swung again. He caught her wrist, twisting it behind her back. She clawed at his face with her other hand, but he caught that one, too. It soon joined the other, pinned to the small of her back. She kicked at his ankles and shins. He held both her wrists in one hand, hauling her up against his body, oblivious to her struggles. He yanked the cap from her head and buried his hand in her hair.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, certain he would now finish what he'd begun back at Annancreag, then later beside a deserted stream. And he would be angry, too, that both times she'd bested him-wounded him. Unmanned him. He would be brutal, punishing. She braced herself for the worst. She would not make it easy for him.

He tugged at her hair, pulling her head back so she was forced to glare up into his face. Into his calm, measured stare.

"And still, no cries for help," he mused. "Not even a whisper."

She stilled at his unruffled expression. He was not burning with l.u.s.t for vengeance. Whatever punishment he planned to administer, he would do it with his wits intact.

"Who would help me here?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, though he didn't seem angry. "They think you a lad?"

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

His grip on her hair tightened. "Skelley, Laine, Eliot? They believe you a lad?"

Fayth nodded. The fingers tangled in her hair relaxed, though didn't release.

"Good. 'Tis better that way."

"What's better?" He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, she said, "You like the boys? Is that it?"

To her surprise, rather than strike her in fury, as Ridley would have, he smiled. A wide-eyed, genuine smile, and laughed.

"G.o.d, but you've a wicked tongue." He lowered his head, his smile becoming wolfish. "I told you before, little one. Dinna seek to insult my manhood or I'll be forced to prove my virility. And you're the only la.s.s in miles."

Her skin felt overhot, tight. She was suddenly unable to swallow properly, her mouth dry as sand. Unbidden, the memory of when he kissed her at Annancreag intruded. She'd let him do it, had been forced to play along, act a wh.o.r.e. But for a moment... for a small, isolated moment, she'd forgotten entirely that she was acting. Had felt every inch the wanton in his arms. And had hated him for making her betray Jack's memory in such a way. Even now her body quickened, pressed against him, his fingers ma.s.saging her scalp, just as it had back at the stream, when he had stolen her breath with wanting. It repulsed her, this traitorous response to him.

She turned her face away, staring at the wall. "Do what you will and get it over with. I'm sure it won't take long."

Again he laughed and, to her surprise, he released her hair. "I'll let you go now but it's only so we might talk. Will you behave? If not, I'll have to bind you."

She nodded and he stepped away. She sighed, relieved for the distance he put between them. She rubbed her wrists, though he hadn't hurt her. She wanted him to think he had. Best if he underestimated her. He stepped back to the doorway and peered out. She was struck again by his incredible size. His broad shoulders blocked the doorway. He had to bend his head to look through the opening. Why had he still not harmed her, after all that had happened? He was Red Alex, notorious reiver. He was as responsible as Wesley for keeping the feud between their clans alive this past year when others had tried for peace. He'd murdered dozens of Grahams, stolen hundreds of Graham kine and horses. He loathed her family as she did his. Why was he now so mild with her? It made no sense.

"Talk then," she said.

He dropped the rug back in place, turning to her, his hands folded over his chest. "Twice now, you have spared my life."

Fayth blinked. This was unexpected. But she didn't particularly care to examine why she'd been unable to finish him.

"Why?" he asked, moving closer. "Twice I've been at your mercy. Twice you've chosen to let me live."

When she didn't respond, he took another step. "The first time, I thought it was a mistake, that you meant for me to die, and thought I was dead. But fortunately my thick head thwarted you. Bigger foes than you have tried for my life and thought they won it." He was before her now; an arm's length separated their bodies. He looked down at her, his brow troubled. "But now, I'm not so sure. You could have killed me back there and you didn't. You even gave me the opportunity to come out of it unscathed-short one horse. And when I forced you to shoot me," his hand went to his shoulder, "you merely wounded me, when you could have sent the bolt straight through my heart."

He regarded her steadily. A scabbed line marred his jaw where she'd cut him with his helm. Candlelight glinted off the copper whiskers hugging his chin and jaw. The room was too small, too close.

"Why, la.s.s?" He wagged a finger at her, as if something had just occurred to him. "And in the forest, I thought for certain you'd set your brothers after me. But you didn't tell them, did you?"

There was no explanation for why she kept sparing him-she wished there was, so she could reconcile it in her own mind. She didn't lower her gaze from his, though she longed to. His hair was roan dark inside the shieling, tied at his nape. His eyes were so blue, dark, dark, like rivers. He really was very bonny, a fine face, with strong features, a wide mouth, made for smiling and laughing-or kissing.

She did look away then, her cheeks hot. How could she have such thoughts? Was that why she'd let him live? Because he was so very bonny? The thought was so disturbing she dismissed it and instead tried to imagine him murdering Jack. Jack, bound hand and foot while Red Alex bludgeoned him to death. Or Jack, running into the trees, trying to escape, but shot in the back with an arrow.

"What shall I do with you?" he asked softly, dispelling her imaginings. "I cannot let you go-"

"Why not?"

His mouth tilted into a smile. "She speaks-or he? Tell me, how shall I address you in the company of my men?"

"Must you address me at all?"

"Oh, aye. As I was saying. I cannot let you go. Your brother might catch you and take you back to Carlisle. I cannot have that."

"I swear he will not."

His smile was condescending, though not unkind. "You are a braw, brave la.s.s, but forgive me if I dinna think you a match for Lord Graham, a hundred men-at-arms, and a few fine sleuth dogs."

"I spared your life-twice! Don't you owe me something?"

He grinned. "Oh, I owe you something... but I'm not sure what. Not just yet, that is."

She bit back the vile comments that sprang onto her tongue. "You could take me to Caroline," she said instead. "Surely your brother will devise some punishment befitting my crime."

Alex shook his head thoughtfully. "He's besotted with your sister and she's a soft, kind woman, nothing at all like you. She'll not allow him to punish you. What would they do with you? Neither of them want you there. You've proven yourself thoroughly disloyal. Your presence will cause discord, discord neither of them desires. Rob would probably send you back to Ridley."

"What makes you think Ridley or Carlisle would have me now?"

His smile was tight. "Do you know why Ridley wants you wed to Carlisle?"

She nodded cautiously, wondering if he truly did, or if he was referring to something else entirely.

"Do you know that I currently hold Gealach?"

She nodded again. She had convinced herself it was the reason she'd not told Ridley about their forest encounter. Ridley wanted Alex dead to ease his way into Gealach. So long as Red Alex lived, the tower would be difficult to secure. Of course, that went against her own tumultuous feelings about Red Alex, but if there was anything Fayth could do to thwart Ridley, she would do it. And quite suddenly, she relaxed, relief washing over her. She'd spared his life, not because she'd felt something other than complete loathing for him, but because he was an obstacle Ridley wanted to eliminate.

Alex folded his hands behind his back, his expression grim. "Gealach is not mine by right but by force. However, I have offered for it, through coin and marriage. Lord Carlisle will not sign over the deed. Your brother has resources and men Carlisle could only wish for. When Gealach is deeded to him, he will descend on my land and there is little I can do to stop him."

"What about your brother, Lord Annan? Will he not come to your aid?"