"No, a boar."

Fayth raised her brows in surprise.

"Aye, I know. You rarely see them anymore, they weren't so plentiful then, either, though they were to be had. Anyway, we were becoming bored, as the others had all made kills and we were missing even the toads with our wee bows. We wandered away in our search for mice and birds. We heard grunting and growling, and realized right away what it was."

"Oh no," Fayth said, genuinely horrified.

Alex hesitated, then continued. "Aye, we decided to pursue it. We had great visions of Cook roasting it with an apple in its mouth and all the men slapping our backs and praising our great skill. It was rooting about in a thicket. It was my idea to block its exits. Eliot got off the first shot. Rather than run away, the boar charged at him." Alex shook his head. "It tore him up."

Fayth's hand was over her mouth, her question m.u.f.fled. "You killed it?"

Alex nodded. "Aye. I was too scared to even shoot my bow, so I took after it with my dirk." Alex sighed, still feeling the regret after all these years. "But I wasn't quick enough. Eliot still lost his arm."

"But he lived."

"Aye."

Alex stared out into the daylight, recalling Eliot after losing his arm. He'd not been angry or bitter. He'd thanked Alex for saving his life, though Alex had been filled with remorse that he'd not been quick enough. And they'd gone on. Eliot had learned to do nearly everything he could do with two hands with one. When Alex had been sent to Dunfermline, it was Eliot, and sometimes Patrick, who visited him, sneaking in whisky and candles, books, warm underclothes-things which were eventually discovered and cost him dearly in beatings and the other vile forms of punishment monks devised in their solitude. The more Alex thought on it, the harder it was to determine exactly when Eliot changed.

Alex slowly became aware that Fayth stared at him, unblinking, chewing an already ragged thumbnail.

"If you're still hungry, I can come up with something, I'm sure."

She gave him a narrow look and dropped her hand in her lap, balling it into a fist.

"I know how you and Eliot felt... wanting to make your father proud."

"Aye?"

Her cheeks flushed, a lovely bloom of color, as if she wished she hadn't spoken.

"Did your dragon hunt win your father's approval?"

"Well... no, and I was quite a bit older than you were."

When she seemed disinclined to continue Alex prompted her, "Come now, I told you my dragon slaying story, now you must tell me yours."

"There's not much to tell, really. It was a year or so ago. Papa had just started allowing me to go on raids with him and Wesley-" She stopped at the look of horror on Alex's face. "If you're going to do that, I won't tell the story at all."

Alex forced a look of polite interest. Hugh Graham took his daughter raiding? Good G.o.d!

She settled back into her story. "He only took me on small raids, ones he was sure there was little chance of a skirmish. We were raiding the Musgraves-they'd recently stolen from Papa a hundred kine, his best horse, five sleuth dogs and an ox-when they ambushed us. Papa told me to ride away. I protested and begged him to let me stay." Her mouth tightened, her gaze on her hands which twisted the frayed ends of his wool rug. "In front of everyone he became furious and threatened to use his belt on my a.r.s.e if I didn't go home."

Alex refrained from shouting, Good for him! and tried to look properly sympathetic.

"I was humiliated. He sent Jack with me, to see me home safe. The Musgraves pursued us, but we got away. On the way we pa.s.sed Ned Storey's tower. The tower looked deserted and no one was watching the sheep penned just outside the barmkin." She grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So we took them."

"And Jack didn't try to stop you? Didn't he have orders to see you home safely?"

Her smile faded and she gave him a sharp look. "No, Jack never tried to tell me what to do."

He waited for the accusations to fly. She'd accused him of murdering Jack before and she'd been quite pa.s.sionate about it. But she kept her peace with an obvious struggle. She must feel beholden to him, he decided, for she didn't seem one to hold her tongue.

"Anyway," she said with emphasis and a warning look, Stop interrupting! "Papa's raid was a failure. They came away with naught and lost two men. He was so surprised to see the sheep-you should have seen his face!" She wasn't with him now, her eyes shining, looking within. "Before that night, he'd not talked about me much. He told everyone about my raid. He made me tell him the story over and over, then nagged at Jack. And when he became very ill, just before he died and would drink too much, he would tell the story to anyone who would listen."

She smirked suddenly, coming back to him. "Ridley hated the story. You should have seen his face curl up into itself every time Papa would start telling it."

Alex laughed, delighted with the story. He'd loved his father's regard as well, though it seemed he'd felt it a good deal more than she had, so he could understand her pride.

They smiled at each other for a moment, then her smile turned to a troubled frown and she looked away. "I don't understand you. What do you want from me?"

"I want Gealach," Alex said, disappointed the warm moment had to end. "If I have you, Carlisle cannot marry you. It's that simple."

"Carlisle can't marry me if I'm dead, either. So again, why are you doing this?"

"Carlisle won't be eager to do business with his betrothed's murderer. This will be a legal transaction, completed by our solicitors. There will be no question that Gealach is mine."

"I see." She looked down at the blanket draped across her legs. "Well, that certainly makes sense."

Alex watched her curiously. What had she expected him to say? The truth? Not likely. And yet what he told her was the truth. At least it had been in the beginning. Maybe even that was a lie, because he'd wanted her since the first moment he'd seen her. He still wanted her, yet now he didn't know what he would do with her if she ever said aye-a more unlikely event he could not imagine.

He was staring at the cave opening when he sensed her moving toward him. He looked at her sharply. Her eyes were fixed on his gaping shirt front, her hand reaching toward his chest. Alex froze, eyebrows raised. What the h.e.l.l was she doing? And where did she get the strength? She was obviously determined to do something and he didn't try to stop her until her hand curled about the bead that hung from a leather string around his neck. She tried to jerk it off, but he caught her wrist.

Her eyes snared his, her face damp with sweat. "Where did you get this?" Her voice harsh, angry.

She didn't release the bead and he kept hold of her wrist. "Let go."

"No. Give it to me-it's not yours."

"It's not yours either."

Her lips thinned and he knew the strain of her awkward position was draining her. But she was nothing if not tenacious and tried to yank it off again.

Gently, Alex pried her fingers loose and forced her back down. Her eyes remained fixed on the bead, now swinging forward from his shirt.

"That's Mona's bead. Where did you get it?"

"I found it at Graham Keep, in Lady Graham's chambers." Before she could ask what he was doing rifling through her stepmother's chambers, he said, "Ridley invited us to search the keep, remember? Rob was sure he hid Caroline and Patrick, and indeed, Patrick had been kept in the dungeons for nigh on a year."

"But they were gone," Fayth said. "So you stole an enchanted stone?"

Alex smiled, taking the bead between his fingers to look at it. "Hardly enchanted... it's a landmark."

Her brow furrowed, but she remained silent.

"It was in the small leather sack, along with the lock of Patrick's hair and nail parings."

Fayth's eyebrows raised.