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safe, but he’s a fearsome laird from a large clan, a giant among men and rather brisk. You’ll get used to them, they’re all that way. I admit their arrogance amuses me.”
    Julianna listened carefully. “Aunty, you are such a help. When do ye think he shall come?”
    Mathilda rose and paced the floor. “Some of his men are meeting with Walden, he must be close. Simon will find him and relay my message.”
    He’d take her to the Highlands and that’s all that mattered—if he ever showed up.

Chapter Eight
     
     
    He showed up two days later.
    On the way to the Shelmore’s keep, Colin called a halt. Situated by the border and one day’s ride into England, he often took the risk. On this sojourn he needed to inquire the news of the never-ending scuffle betwixt the Scots and English. He had agreed to relay the news to the other clans on his return. Steven should have made the trek; it was his turn. But Steven asked him to go in his place. He and Steven were comrades long before they both became lairds and Colin understood that Steven couldn’t leave Sara and his bairn. He envied his friend because his home flourished and his clan was at peace, except for few skirmishes. Colin aspired to have his clan in the midst of peace someday. Until each and every one of the McFies were dead, that wouldn’t be possible.
    He still hadn’t brought the McFies to justice. The war was becoming tiresome. Leaning against a tree, he watched the men around the camp. His brothers tested their swords for exercise, both combating as if they fought to the death. He’d turned them into fine MacKinnon warriors. Brendan worked his sword in a frenzied attack and his brother, Robin, landed at his brother’s feet.
    “You fight tirelessly, Brendan. Someday I’ll best ye.” Robin jumped to his feet.
    Colin knew that would never happen, because Brendan trained without any other activity to distract him. When they finished their clash, they joined him beside the tree, both winded from their exercise.
    “Colin, what goes?” Robin asked.
    “Nothing, sitting here contemplating.”
    “About what?”
    “The McFies, amongst other things.”
    “Aye? After we reach the Shelmore’s, where are we headed?”
    “Home, Robin, I believe we’ll go home. It has been a long time, and I long for the smell of peat and mist.” Colin took Brendan’s sword and studied the handle.
    “Aye, I can smell the stinking English even this afar from them,” Brendan said.
    Simon, the lad he’d sent to forewarn of their coming, returned and stood before Colin. “Laird, I have a message from Milady Shelmore.”
    “What is it, Simon? Is it not safe to go there?”
    “’Tis safe, but milady asked if ye would escort a lady to the Highlands.”
    “A lady? Why’d she ask me?”
    “I know not, Laird, I wasn’t supposed to speak of it in front of others because she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s there. Milady said to tell you she would be eternally in your debt.”
    “That’s telling. The lady must be in trouble,” Colin said.
    “Far be it for us not to help a lass in distress,” Robin said.
    “She told me to return with your reply. What should I reply, Laird?”
    “No bother, Simon, we’re on our way. I’ll give Mathilda my reply.”
    “That’s a strange request from Mathilda. Why do ye think the lass is in trouble?” Brendan asked, taking his sword back from Colin.
    “She told Simon not to speak of it in front of others. Mathilda wants the lady escorted to the Highlands by us—warriors.” Robin took Brendan’s sword and cast it into the grass.
    “Aye, very telling. Will ye do it, Colin?” Brendan asked, and shoved Robin so he could retrieve his sword.
    “Depends on how fair the lass is. Is she comely, Simon?” Colin grinned, but it wasn’t his question to Simon that made him do so, it was Brendan’s reaction to his sword being cast aside.
    “Aye, Laird, she is bonny.” The men laughed. “But someone beat the poor lady. Even so,