"Are you alive?" a voice hissed.

Mackay opened his eyes, but it did little good. The world was as black as old sins. His head pounded with pain, his body throbbed with feverish heat.

"Wake up." The voice again, whispered from deep shadows. But he recognized it as Swift's. It was still melodious though it had lost the polished sheen he'd first heard from her lips.

"Where am I?" His own voice was barely human, guttural with pain, rusty with disuse.

"The cellar."

Thoughts swirled murkily in his head. Memories streamed past. "Beneath Cryton's hovel?"

"Aye."

"And the lads he keeps?"

"Upstairs."

He nodded. She exhaled quietly as if she'd been holding her breath.

"For such a brawny big bloke, you go down terrible easy, Highlander." Her words may have been sardonic, but her voice trembled, cranking up a little guilt for the worry he had caused her. "Do you oft let others knock you unconscious?"

He raised a hand, testing the wound. Pain shot through him, but the bullet seemed to have just grazed his skull. As luck went, that was as good as his was likely to get. "'Tis a poor habit of mine. That I see now."

"And little else in this damnable hole. Why the devil"

"This defileth the man." he quoted numbly. His head rocked with pain.

She was silent for a moment. "You don't approve of cursing?"

"Nay, but this seems the proper place for it if there be such a thing."

"Can you sit?"

He shifted, trying. It took all his effort, but finally he was slumped against the rocky wall. She sat beside him, leaning her head against the damp stone. He saw now for the first time that she was chained again and realized that he was too.

"Are you well?" he asked.

"Well?" There may have been humour in her voice, which did not seem quite right considering the circumstances. "They've taken my hard-won baubles. I'm chained to a wall, and ... oh, Cryton plans to kill me upon his return, but otherwise, aye, I'm fair to middling."

"Why would he wish you dead?"

"You heard him, Highlander," she said. "I was picking pockets in his territory. And doing a rather handsome job of it."

"If you're good at the task, wouldn't he be wiser to use your skills than kill you?"

"Wiser?" she said and laughed a little. "Aye, I'll mention that to him. He's sure to see sense."

Mackay exhaled wearily. "Me apologies," he said.

"Apologies?" Her voice was soft.

"For this ..." He motioned towards the darkness. "I did not mean to cause you trouble."

She was silent for a long moment. "What did you mean, Highlander?"

He remained silent.

"Why did you come? Truly."

A fine question. He glanced to his right, perhaps looking for a way out, but there was little to see. "To make amends, mayhap."

"I believe I struck you."

So she had, clever little nymph. Truth to tell, he didn't oft allow that to happen. He must be getting old. "Amends to God," he corrected. "Or mayhap ..." He shook his head. It hurt. "Mayhap to the world at large if there be no god."

She didn't seem to wish to argue religion. "So you truly do take in lads."

"I've no wish to see them end up to be the likes of me."

She was silent for a moment. "Foolish enough to let themselves be bested twice in one week?"

He snorted softly. That hurt too. "Without skills," he said. "Good for naught but killing."

"Is that what you are then?"

"'Tis what they wished me to be. 'Tis why they sent me to battle. To war. And war is killing," he said. "Little matter how you dress it in pageantry and honour. 'Tis naught but murder made legal. But the murderers are allowed to walk free. Nay, are honoured as if they were heroes and not beasts sent to slaughter the" His voice failed him. He pressed his eyes closed.

"You are no beast," she whispered.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that she sat a little closer.

"You know not what I've done, lass. I have" he began, but she reached up and cupped his cheek with her palm. Her touch was warm and tender.

"I know you came to save a boy you've not met," she whispered.

"'Tis only" he began again, but she trailed a finger across his lips.

"I know you would have saved me."

For a moment he was lost in her eyes, but he would not allow himself to be soothed. He shook his head.

"Do not make me out to be sommat I am not."

"Very well. But I insist you do the same. You are not a beast," she whispered and he wished to believe.

"What am I then, lass?"

She smiled a little. "You are a man," she said. "The good and the bad of it. But in you ..." She splayed her fingers gently across his cheek. "I think there is more good."

"Then ye are mistaken."

She was silent for a moment. "And here I was thinking the scriptures mentioned something of forgiveness."

"As it turns out, I am not well suited for that sort of thing. For myself or others," he said and she laughed.

"Something amuses ye, lass?'

"Tell your stories to someone who didn't see you spare Cryton. Or me, come to that."

He ignored the latter part of her statement. "Mayhap you forgot his minions were armed."

"They were not armed like you," she said and slipping her hand from his cheek, ran it down his biceps. "No," she said. "You are good. Better than this world deserves."

Their gazes met. A thousand hopeless wishes soared momentarily between them. Each was more foolish than the last, and yet he could not resist kissing her.

Their lips met with careful warmth, pressed, held, healed.

She drew back, breathless. "You're rather good at that for a priest, Highlander."

"Postulant hopeful," he corrected.

She smiled, then sobered and slipped her hand across his chest and on to his throat. Her fingers seemed to burn there. "I've a favour to ask."

He nodded once. It was all he could manage. How long had it been since he'd felt a kind woman's touch?

"Will you take Tav to the kirk where you reside?"

He drew a careful breath through his nostrils. "The boy on Wendy Close."

"Aye."

He lifted an arm. A chain drooped from it. "I fear I've no means to do so, lass."

She nodded stiffly, lavender eyes painfully solemn in the darkness. "If I can free you, will you care for him?"

"If we are free why not care for him your"

A scrape of noise from above stopped his words.

"Shh!" She jerked towards the sound, then scooted closer, lips all but touching his ear. "Cryton will return in a minute." He could feel her shiver. "To gloat and to ..." She paused. "He likes untried girls. He'll not kill me before he takes me."

Mackay sat very still, absorbing her words and trying to remain calm. But the beast in him was already rearing its vengeful head.

"He'll have the keys to our chains on his person. I can filch them and toss them to you."

"I cannot kill him, lass," he said, but even in the darkness he could discern the welt on her temple and felt rage flare through him like flame set to pitch. "Though I ache to avenge the marks he put on ..." He drew a deep breath. "I've made a vow."

"That I know," she whispered, pressing closer still. "You're a good man. A kind man. I do not ask you to bloody your hands. In fact, you must not. You must muffle the sound of the keys and wait. Promise me. He's got underlings. More than you know. He'll take me above. He likes an audience and it's too close down here. We'll leave this hole. But you must stay. They'll think you still confined. Wait till the house goes quiet."

He pulled her hand from his lips, feeling the deep tremble in his own body. "So I should wait till you're dead?" he asked, his voice all but lost in the darkness. "Wait till he's taken your innocence and your life before"

She breathed a laugh. "I'm no innocent, Highlander. You know that as well as any. I'm a thief. A good one. In truth, I'm the best. And for that he'll let me live."

"You lie. He'll"

"... our guests." Cryton's laughing voice rang from upstairs. His footfalls thudded across the floor.

"Lie down," she hissed and shoved him.

He wanted to argue, to resist, to save her. But with the sudden movement, his head spun. He slumped to the floor.

The trap door creaked open.

"Do you need help down there, Cryton?"

"Not from the likes of you, Knobby," he said, and hanging a lantern on a peg on the nearby wall, descended. "Well then ..." His voice was jovial with success and stale beer. "I see you've waited for me, luv."

Swift rose to her feet, shielding her eyes against the glare of the lantern. Fear made her limbs stiff, hope made her eager. "Let me go."

"Of course." He chuckled. "Of course I will, luv."

"Now. Before he regains his strength," she said and jerked a nod towards the Highlander.

Cryton's brows rose. His perfect teeth gleamed in the lantern light. "So Snake didn't kill him?" he asked and kicked Mackay's heavy leg.

She prayed he would remain still. He didn't disappoint her. "No, he's not dead," she said. "But it's not too late."

"Ho, I didn't realize you were such a bloodthirsty wench."

"I'm not bloodthirsty. Not like him," she said.

"Him?" He laughed. "I think you're lying to me, sweet Swift. He's a man of peace. Said so hisself."

"And I suppose you're daft enough to believe he won't kill me because"

He struck her across the mouth. For a moment, the world went grey. She stumbled backwards, pressing shaky knuckles to her bleeding lips.

"Does he look like a saint to you, Cryton?" she asked, forcing herself to speak past the panic. "He's a warlord. A mercenary. He's killed more men than you've robbed. Children too. And women. He told me so himself. Bragged about it."

"Truly?" His tone was intrigued. Thrilled even.

"I swear it's true. He plans to have me, to use me up and murder me."

"You don't say. Why you?"

"I stole from him."

"From a man of God?" He crowed with laughter. "Jesus Christ, you're even more of a bitch than I imagined."