"What's your name, Highlander?" Elizabeth asked, wincing with pain as she used her teeth to tear meat off a chicken bone. She had to chew slowly and with great care, otherwise she might end up rolling in agony on the floor.

"Are ye all right, lass?" he asked from the opposite side of the table. "Ye look uncomfortable. Here. Take some more of this."

He handed her the bottle of whisky again, and she welcomed the opportunity to wash down her supper. A moment later, however, she had to wrestle with an unbidden wave of giddiness and laughter. It was a potent spirit indeed.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" she asked, setting the bottle down.

"Will it make ye reveal your secrets?"

Elizabeth wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "I assure you, I have none. I've already told you everything."

"I doubt that."

She tore off another morsel of the tender, succulent meat. "And you still haven't told me your name."

He eyed her warily. "Nor have ye told me yours."

A log shifted in the grate, and bright sparks of firelight flew up the chimney while they regarded each other with challenge from opposite sides of the table.

"I am Alexander MacLean," he said at last. "I hail from the Isle of Mull."

"Duart Castle?"

"Aye," he replied. "Now tell me yours."

She sat back in the chair. "I am Elizabeth Curtis, and I hail from Portsmouth."

His green eyes narrowed. "You're a long way from home, lassie."

"I have no home. What remained of my family came north to fight in this rebellion, but they're all dead now all except for one. So here I am. Alone and ... seeking vengeance, I suppose."

"Who is this one you speak of?"

"My uncle. He is a book merchant in Edinburgh, but I have not seen him since I was a child."

The Highlander shifted lower in a lazy sprawl, and glanced down at the knife he had given her to use with her supper. "Have ye always been so bold?" he asked. "So full of daring?"

"Yes."

The corner of his mouth curled up in a small grin of seductive allure. "I find ye very intriguing, Elizabeth Curtis. No woman has ever attacked me with such ... passion before."

She couldn't help but laugh at him. "Be very careful, sir. I told you I was seeking vengeance, and if I grow weary of your questions or insinuations, I may decide to attack you again."

He spoke with a heated grin, holding his hands out to the side. "Be my guest, but doona forget I saved your life on that battlefield. I carried ye into the woods and stole one of your King's horses for ye, then I held ye across my lap for mile after mile while we plodded through rivers and glades together. If anything, ye owe me a great debt."

Elizabeth slanted a look at him. "Are you flirting with me?"

Just then, something very pleasant and unfamiliar warmed the flow of blood through her veins.

Alex leaned forward. "What if I were? Would it be enough to make ye promise not to use that supper knife on me? Or heaven forbid, that razor-sharp bayonet of yours?"

"I don't have my bayonet," she replied, looking around for it. "I have nothing."

"Nay, lass, that's not true. Ye have yer wits, and y're moderately pleasant to look at."

"Moderately pleasant?" She laughed again. Perhaps it was the whisky. "What a charmer you are."

The firelight reflected in the deep green of his eyes, and she ran the tip of her tongue across her lips, wondering how she could be carrying on in such a way with a man who was her enemy and captor.

"A Highlander killed my brother," she quickly said, her tone growing serious. "So please do not look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you want to carry me back to that bed and do something savage with me."

He chuckled. "Clearly you've been entertaining some wayward thoughts this evening, lassie but I must ask ye to treat me with some respect. I have no intention of becoming a slave to your lusty urges. I simply won't have it."

Yet again, she laughed. "You bashed me over the head today! So I quite assure you, I have no lusty urges whatsoever. Not a single one."

"Then why do ye keep bringing it up?"

She should have been offended. She should have stood up, slapped his face, and retired to the other room, but something held her rather spellbound. Even dressed in the tartan uniform of her enemy the weapons a grim reminder of this Highlander's potential ferocity and the death of her brother he aroused her senses and sent a fever into her blood. It was the sheer might of his brawn, she supposed, and the bewildering fact that he had saved her life today, even after she tried to kill him.

"Why did you help me?" she asked. "You could have just left me there to die."

For a moment he regarded her in the quiet hush of the night, while the flames danced wildly in the hearth. Then at last he spoke. "Because ye were the most beautiful creature I ever laid eyes on."

Excitement pooled deliciously in her belly, just as the door flew open and two bearded Highlanders burst into the room with muskets cocked and aimed at her head. Elizabeth leapt to her feet. She knocked over her chair as she backed up against the far wall.

Slowly and calmly, Alex rose to his feet and turned to face them.

"Lower yer weapons," he said, holding his hands out to ease the sudden tension in the room. "She's not armed. She's just hungry, that's all."

"She can starve, for all I care," the taller one said.

"Aye," the other added. "It's worse than we thought, Alex. The battle was not a triumph."

"What do ye mean, it was not a triumph?" he replied. "I saw the English officers order the retreat. We chased them all the way back to Dunblane."

"Aye, we crushed them with our right flank, but our left flank broke. Argyll's cavalry drove hundreds into the River Allen. Many drowned, and he is calling it a victory for King George."

Without lowering his weapon, the taller one flicked his hair out of his face. "Mar is withdrawing to Perth, and in the morning, despite our victory, Argyll will find himself master of the field."

Alex bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All this killing, all these weeks of marching through bogs and icy pellets of rain ... What was it for? We are still without a king, without a parliament. Without freedom."

Elizabeth dared not speak not while the other two Scots were fuming with ire, and still held loaded muskets aimed at her nose.

"Did she tell ye anything?" the tall one asked, eyeing her dangerously down the long barrel of his weapon.

Alex looked at her. "She told me enough, and I've determined she's not a threat to us."

"I doona believe that. Did ye ask her about the dispatch?"

Hot flames of panic burst through Elizabeth's core. "Explain yourself, sir," she demanded. "What dispatch? I know nothing of what you speak."

Alex regarded her with a look of regret. "I was going to ask ye about it, lass, as soon as yer belly was full. Come here."

He waved a hand for her to approach the table, then signalled for the other Scotsman to hand over a small, flat parchment.

"We found this in a secret compartment in the pocket of your coat," he explained in a low voice. "Do ye know of it?"

She took it from him and read the contents. "This is a note to Argyll, explaining that a detachment of rebels are on their way to Dumferline. It recommends that he send his cavalry to trounce it."

Alex nodded. "Did your brother deliver this information?"

She glanced up. "How should I know?"

"So you are telling me that you knew nothing of it." He slid her a look, encouraging her to nod in agreement.

"Of course I knew nothing. I stole this uniform off his back after he was killed."

"But why did ye do that, lass?" the tall one asked. "Did ye mean to do some spying on yer own?"

"Of course not," she retorted. "I only wanted to fight."

He scowled at her. "That's a strange hankerin' for a woman. How can we be sure ye are telling the truth?"

"She is," Alex insisted. "I told ye I interrogated her already, and I am willing to stake my life on it. She's not a spy."

Elizabeth's eyes locked with his, and though she did not understand why he was defending her, she was grateful for it.

He turned his attention back to the other clansmen. "Lower yer guns now lads, and fill yer bellies. Tomorrow you'll ride to Perth and find out what Mar intends to do next."

Reluctantly, they released the hammers on their weapons and moved closer to the fire.

"What about the woman?" the shorter one quietly asked. "What will ye do with her tonight?"

Alex locked gazes with her again. His green eyes roamed over her figure, and her heart hammered wildly against her ribcage.

"I have not decided yet," he replied.

The flickering light from a single candle infused the room with a warm, golden glow, while Elizabeth pulled the covers up to her chin.

"Sleep well, lass," Alex said, as he came to stand over the bed. "I'll not let any harm come to ye on this night."

She could hear the others on the opposite side of the curtain, speaking in low tones while they ate their supper.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" she whispered. "After what happened between us this morning ..."

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "We met on a battlefield, on opposite sides of a war. I cannot fault ye for fighting against me. I fought hard against ye in return."

She laid her hand on her bruised cheek. "You certainly did."

He regarded her for a long, quiet moment while her thoughts grew heavy in her mind. "I'm sorry that I hurt ye," he said. "I would take it back if I could."

"Because I'm a woman?"

"Among other things."

"Such as?"

The candlelight reflected in his eyes like tiny sparks of fire. "I believe ye have suffered enough, lass."

She thought of her brother suddenly, and how she had tried to talk him out of signing up to fight in this war, but she had not been able to persuade him. And so, she had followed instead.

"Ye are remembering yer brother," Alex whispered.

Her gaze flew up. "Yes. How did you know?"

"I can see it in yer eyes."

A strange, beguiling comfort seemed to settle over her, thanks to this Highlander's reassuring presence. Perhaps it was his intuition, and his clear insight into her grief. Or perhaps it was his strength as a warrior, for she believed, with every breath in her body, that he would protect her tonight.

"Sometimes I feel as if the world has come to an end." She studied the strong contours of his face, and the line of his shoulders beneath the tartan. "Do you understand? Have you ever lost someone?"

"Aye, I have. A brother, like yours. He was too young to fight, but he was stubborn and insisted on following me, so I let him. I thought I could protect him, but since then, I have come to realize that God has his own plans. All we can do is keep living the life we are meant to live, and push through the pain."

Elizabeth considered the wisdom in his words. "It takes courage to do that."

"Aye, and ye are very brave. Ye proved that this morning, so I am confident ye will survive this."

Elizabeth shifted on the bed. "But I have no family except for my uncle, and he is a stranger to me. I am alone."

"I predict that will soon change," he said. "One day, ye will meet a good man, marry him, make lots of babies, and all of this will be nothing but a distant memory." He tugged at the coverlet and arranged it snugly over her shoulders. "Go to sleep now, lass. I will wake ye in the morning."

With that, he rose from the bed and exited the room, leaving Elizabeth alone to contemplate the unexpected sense of calm she felt, and her amazing good fortune at having chosen this particular Highlander to attack on the battlefield that morning.

Elizabeth woke to the sound of panicked, angry voices, and a door swinging open, banging against the outside wall.

Heart racing with alarm, she tossed the covers aside, leapt out of bed, and swept through the curtain to the front room. Alex was standing outside with his pistol trained on yet another clansman, mounted high in a saddle. The gargantuan grey warhorse stomped around skittishly.

"Is that her?" the stranger asked, pointing his knife at Elizabeth, who skidded to a halt just behind Alex.

"Aye," he replied, "but it's no concern of yours, Angus MacDonald. I'll thank ye to be on yer way."

The rider wore his tartan up over his head like a hood. She could see his breath in the frosty chill of the morning.