Highlanders Collection. Ann Lethbridge

arrogance and refusal to listen was starting to wear down her patience. ‘I don’t regret sending the goods to be sold. I only wish they hadn’t cheated him.’

      ‘There was no need for the ransom,’ Bram continued. ‘We’ll fight for Callum.’ He leaned against the wall beside the door, his hand reaching back to unstrap the claymore from his shoulders.

      ‘Do you know where he is now?’ Nairna asked, noticing the change in his face.

      ‘Aye. The last messenger returned an hour ago, and told us where he was taken. We’re going after him tomorrow.’

      ‘Where?’ she managed. ‘Who took him?’

      ‘Robert Fitzroy, the Baron of Harkirk.’

      Nairna clamped her mouth shut, unable to believe it. Harkirk’s fortress was one of the strongest in the Highlands, thanks to her father’s bribery.

      ‘Then we have a common enemy.’ She explained what her father had done to avoid bloodshed. ‘They’re bleeding the MacPhersons dry to fund their soldiers.’

      Bram stared at her, with no mercy in his eyes. ‘Not for long.’

      He pushed the door open, stepping past the sleeping dog, and returned to the outdoor hearth the men had built earlier. The fire had died down to hot coals and Bram picked up a staff the width of his wrist. He used it to push several of the hearth stones inside their home, and when he closed the door behind him, Nairna could feel the radiant heat rising from the stones.

      Even so, it did nothing to ward off the coldness surrounding Bram’s demeanour. She doubted if an apology would change his anger, but she had to try. ‘I never meant for anything to happen to Dougal.’

      Bram seemed to be holding his temper back with the greatest effort. ‘It’s not as safe around Glen Arrin as you might believe, Nairna. We’re lucky to have found him.’

      She gave a nod; it seemed that he was trying to press down even more guilt upon her. Aye, she’d made a mistake, believing it was a simple matter of taking the glass to be sold. But now that they possessed a sack full of false coins, she realised that they had a different sort of opportunity. It was a chance to ransom Callum and lose little, from a monetary standpoint.

      ‘Take the coins with you in the morning,’ she advised. ‘Lord Harkirk might not notice that they’re false until it’s too late.’

      ‘Why do you insist upon offering a ransom, Nairna?’ he demanded. ‘Don’t you believe us capable of bringing him back?’

      Nairna heard the stiff pride in his tone and suddenly, she was tired of arguing about whether or not he was strong enough to fight.

      ‘It doesn’t matter if you are or not,’ she answered honestly. ‘If there’s another way to rescue Callum, why wouldn’t you try it?’ She moved towards him and his cheek twitched when she stood before him. ‘Would it threaten your honour so much?’

      He didn’t answer and she realised that she’d struck a nerve. Though she didn’t know whether or not he could fight, she’d just as soon avoid it when possible.

      ‘If we ransom Callum with false coins, I’d consider that justice. Harkirk deserves to be cheated.’ To her mind, it would help Bram get his brother back and keep the men out of harm’s way.

      ‘I don’t play games with men’s lives.’ Bram’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘The risk is too great.’

      Nairna wished he would stop being so stubborn and consider a way of freeing Callum without bloodshed. ‘And you don’t think about the risk of death? Someone will get hurt or killed if you try to fight them. Why wouldn’t you want to try it?’

      He moved past her, ignoring her suggestion. ‘Because we’re not like your father, paying for men’s lives.’

      Nairna had no answer for that. She’d once blamed her father for surrendering without a fight. She’d hated the thought of paying the English, arguing with him constantly about his loose way with coins. Had she changed her opinion so much, in these past few weeks?

      Aye, she had. And it had everything to do with the man standing before her.

      ‘I don’t want you to be hurt,’ she whispered. ‘Or killed.’

      Bram removed his shoes and she heard the rustle of his tunic falling to the ground. It had grown so dark, she couldn’t guess whether he was wearing all of his clothes or not. She closed her eyes, warming her hands near the heated stones. A shiver broke through her at the thought of sharing a mattress with a man who despised her so much.

      But he returned to her, his hand catching hold of hers. ‘I’ve been training for weeks now, Nairna. I won’t bother trying to convince you that I can fight.’

      He pressed her palms to his chest and she could indeed feel the changes. No longer was he thin and wiry; she could feel the outline of new muscles in the rise and fall of his lungs.

      When she reached his stomach, the ridges ended at the waist of his trews.

      ‘I know you can fight,’ she murmured. ‘I simply don’t want you to.’ This wasn’t about trust in his abilities. It was the unsettling fear that if Bram left her in the morning, he wouldn’t come back alive. She knew Lord Harkirk and the large numbers of men who defended his motte. They would be slaughtered within minutes, if Harkirk learned why they were there.

      Bram caught her hands and her heartbeat trembled within her chest. She could smell the scent of wood upon him and despite his anger, there was no denying the way she’d aroused him. His shaft nestled against her, when he drew her close.

      ‘I’m not weak, Nairna.’

      ‘I never said that. But what if the raid goes badly? It won’t end, will it?’ she whispered. ‘Even if you do bring back Callum, there will be war.’

      ‘Until we’ve driven the English out, aye.’

      She broke free of him and the worry made her head ache. When she reached the opposite side of the room, she sat down on a wooden stump that served as a stool.

      Bram returned to the bed and she heard the sinking sound of his body weight against the mattress. Her hands rested upon the silk of Lady Marguerite’s gown and she felt like weeping.

      The silence in their house closed over her and she stared at the bag of coins that lay at her feet. Though she didn’t understand how Dougal had been cheated or why, there had to be a way to make use of them.

      She glanced back at Bram and the mattress rustled as he rolled over. He wasn’t going to use the coins, nor would he appreciate her interference.

      But what if … she could use her father’s help? What if Hamish could coerce Lord Harkirk into releasing Callum? Then, at least, they could avoid any bloodshed.

      The hours were slipping away, and she listened to the sound of Bram’s breathing, wondering if Alex would listen to her suggestion. If they travelled to Ballaloch and stayed with her father, they would know more about Harkirk’s forces and what to do.

      Silently, she reached for the sack of false coins, listening to her husband sleep—if, in fact, he was sleeping. He didn’t move when she opened the door, nor did she hear him stir when she slipped outside.

      Her dog Caen, however, stood up from where he’d been sleeping and trotted over to see her. Nairna reached down to touch his ears, thankful that he hadn’t begun barking.

      She planned to return to the keep for the remainder of the night and wait for Alex to awaken. If she spoke to the chief before they left, he might even allow her to accompany them.

      The thought of returning home was a hope that filled Nairna with yearning. She hadn’t seen her family or friends in so long. Surely her father would offer his men to help her, if she asked it of them.

      The moon had slipped lower in the sky, and she hesitated, wondering if Bram was still asleep or not. Nairna held the bag of