Braden walked mindlessly around the camp. Their homes didn't do much to keep them warm in the harsh Highland winters, but the men had always made do.

It was after a few women and children, made homeless by Niall's rampage, came to Braden looking for shelter that he knew more drastic measures had to be taken. His camp was one of men ready and waiting for battle. It wasn't fit for any other inhabitants.

He had found places for those in need with other clans clans large enough and powerful enough to keep these women and children hidden and safe. But that couldn't last forever.

Braden scrubbed a hand down his face. His latest plan could well get him killed. He should already be dead. How he survived the night his father, uncle and sister died was a mystery to him.

He had been late returning to the castle after a night carousing with some friends. Braden never expected to walk into the castle to such silence.

Or to find his younger sister on the stairs with blood staining the front of her gown from a wound to her chest, and her blue eyes open and empty.

It hadn't taken Braden long to discover his father and uncle as well. Rage unlike anything he had ever experienced filled him.

He had his sword drawn and ready to slay the murderer of his family when Keith had found him. Keith told him about Niall, how he had snuck into the castle, and how he was now on the hunt for Braden.

It went against everything Braden believed in to leave the castle, but he had to live if he was to see his family avenged. Fate had spared him, and in doing so allowed Braden to be a thorn in Niall's side.

A thorn that hadn't done as much damage yet as it would have liked.

Braden let his eyes wander over the camp. Men were set in small groups near their tents, talking, planning. Others were on patrol. Still others were training on foot and horseback.

He had been destined to be laird of his people, to protect his lands and clan at all costs. Braden had never thought he would be fighting to regain his lands and protect all of Scotland.

It all rested on his shoulders now. Come what may, he would not could not fail.

Jean let Rory usher her out of Colin's tent. She should still be tending him, but Rory had wanted some time alone with her patient.

She bit her lip as she walked among the many tents. Besides herself, she saw only three other women. Two were bent with age, their white hair pulled away from their faces. They sat together readying food for the next meal.

The other woman was older than Jean, but still young enough to catch the eyes of the men. Mary, her name was. Clearly, Mary was there for their enjoyment.

Jean wondered if the woman had visited Braden. Then she immediately questioned why she should even care.

She watched everyone finishing their morning meal. Her stomach rumbled, but there was more on her mind than food. She didn't know how long she would be in Braden's camp. Somehow she had convinced him to allow her to stay, but that could be cut short at any time.

Despite the danger she was in, she wanted to remain there. She wanted to help Braden in his fight to topple Niall.

Jean came to a halt as her gaze fell upon Braden. His saffron shirt was thrown over his shoulder and water dripped from the ends of his hair after a bath in the nearby stream.

His striking sapphire eyes held her transfixed. Riveted. Spellbound.

The camp fell away, leaving only the two of them. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest. Her blood heated and rushed though her body.

When he took a step to her, Jean's stomach dropped to her feet.

Someone called Braden's name, breaking the trance that had held them. He turned away from her. Was that regret she saw in his face? Jean squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to dwell on her disappointment.

She knew that whatever drew her and Braden together was special, a bond that couldn't be ignored. If only they could have the time to explore it further.

It was just another reason for her to despise Niall. If he hadn't come, there would be no need for Braden to lead an army.

And you might never have known him at all.

There was no getting around that fact. Jean took a deep breath and walked to the stream at the back of the camp to prepare for the day.

She had just knelt by the water's edge and splashed the cold liquid on her face when she heard her name. Jean looked over her shoulder to see one of Braden's men.

"Braden would like to see you."

Jean nodded and stood. When she reached Braden's tent, two more men stood outside. One leaned down and lifted the flap for her to enter.

She ducked inside. Braden stood facing her, his hands behind his back. "You wished to see me?"

"You offered your services to help," Braden said.

"I did."

Braden glanced at Keith. "How are you with a needle?"

Jean blinked. She had imagined being asked many different things in order to help Braden but sewing hadn't been one of them. "You wish me to sew?"

"I do. I need cloaks and other garments made as quickly as you can. You will have help. Doona worry about the quality. The items need to appear poorly done."

Jean took the material dumped into her arms by Keith and looked at the coarse material. "I gather you willna be wearing your kilts."

"The less you know the better, lass," Keith said softly.

Jean raised her gaze to Braden, but he was bent over documents, his hands braced on the table. "How many cloaks and garments do I need to make?"

"As many as you can by nightfall," Keith answered.

"Nightfall?" she repeated, not hiding her shock.

"Whatever you can do will be enough."

Jean nodded and left the tent. If she was going to be of any help, she needed to get busy.

Braden let out a breath once Jean was gone. He knew she wanted to know the details of his strategy. And he wanted to tell her.

Yet he couldn't.

Somehow, Niall had learned of Braden's plan yesterday. This could only mean there was a spy in the camp. Braden had no way of knowing who it could be. His remedy was to confide only in those that he trusted completely Rory and Keith.

The others would only know what they were to do, not how it all connected. Unfortunately, Jean also had to be kept in the dark.

Braden knew in his gut he could trust her. He had seen the fear in her eyes when she was Niall's captive. That kind of terror couldn't be faked.

Even her father, and the other lairds coming to aid Braden, wouldn't be told everything. Braden would send them to the location where they would wait for his signal to attack. They wouldn't know anything about Braden infiltrating the castle or anything about his intentions for Niall.

This was Braden's last chance to end Niall's evil reign. If he couldn't, if he failed ...

He didn't even want to think along those lines. Too many lives were at stake, too much at risk. He had to win tomorrow. For his father, his sister, his uncle and the other innocents that had got in Niall's way for his bid for power.

Braden wanted Niall dead, but he knew that to get the justice everyone needed, the murdering tyrant had to be brought before the king along with the "trophies" he liked to collect from his victims.

Niall's strange behaviour had been well known throughout the family. But no one had thought he would switch his cruelty from animals to people.

"Jean is a curious one," Keith said, breaking into Braden's thoughts. "She will want to know why she is garbing us in such clothing."

Braden exhaled long and slow. "Doona worry. I will tell her nothing."

"You may not have to. She's a smart one, she is. She is likely to figure it all out."

Braden hadn't considered that. "Even if she does, it makes no difference. She willna be with us."

Keith crossed his arms over his chest and grimaced. "I've followed you wherever you've led me, Braden, but I want you to know this plan of yours is daft."

"And likely to get us all killed. Aye, my friend, I ken."

Keith left the tent to carry out his orders. Braden returned his attention the map of the castle and the surrounding area. He knew the land better than anyone. There were places where those loyal to him could gain a great advantage, and places where he knew he could ambush Niall's men.

So many things had to go right for the plan to work. The most important was getting into the castle.

When he finally raised his head it was to see two trenchers on the table in front of him. One of cheese, bread and cold meat from the noon meal, and the second still steaming with haggis.

Braden's stomach demanded food. He sat and devoured both trenchers before reaching for the bottle of ale. He needed to stretch his legs and back, needed to see the faces of those who trusted him to defeat Niall.

He set aside the empty bottle of ale and rose to exit his tent. The sun was all but set in the horizon, casting vivid pinks and purples over half the sky, while the blanket of night was pulled over the other half.

Several fires dotted the camp, casting faces in orange glows. Many sharpened their swords and dirks as they spoke in low tones. Others checked their horses.

The night before a battle was one of quiet conversations as each man prepared for what could be the last hours of his life.

Braden made a loop of the camp, stopping to speak to his men along the way. He wanted to find Jean. He might not be able to hold her or kiss her as his own, but he could watch over her.

His gaze sought out her dark locks and beautiful figure. When he found her folding one of her newly sewn cloaks, an unusual calm settled over him. Her mere presence in his camp had given him the tranquillity he had sought since he had lost everything to Niall.

It wasn't just her beauty, but her strength that drew him.

She set the cloak atop a pile of others and straightened. Her eyes lifted to the sky, and then she turned her head to him.

Braden knew he should walk away, knew he needed to leave her. But he couldn't. He wanted Jean with a need that both alarmed him and gave him courage.

He strode to her, ignoring those who called his name. He didn't stop until he stood in front of her. No words were spoken as their eyes sought each other.

Desire, hot and powerful, pulsed between them. It was too intense to ignore, too potent to withstand. And too vibrant to walk away from.

His fingers slid over her arm to her hand before he led her to his tent.

Five.

Jean willingly followed Braden to his tent. Once inside, he halted and turned to her. He reached for her arms and pulled her towards him.

She lost herself in the longing, the hunger she saw in his smouldering blue eyes.

Her hands rose and settled on his abdomen. She could feel the ripple of muscle beneath her hand through his saffron shirt. They were so close the heat from his body wrapped around her, cocooning her.

Beckoning her.

He shifted closer so their bodies touched, melded. Jean moved her hands up Braden's chest to his shoulders until her fingers threaded with the cool strands of his brown hair.

Braden lowered his head, his gaze dropping to her mouth. Jean's breath locked inside her. Her stomach fluttered as she eagerly awaited his kiss.

The first brush of his lips stole her breath.

She melted against him as his kiss became more insistent. A moan, deep and hungry, rose from Braden when she returned the kiss.

His tongue licked her lips before sweeping between them and teasing her own tongue. He plundered her lips, besieged her mind.

Jean's fingers dug into his shoulders as she fought to keep her legs beneath her. His mouth slanted over hers, kissing her deeply. And thoroughly.

Passion flared hot and true inside her, filling her veins, and settled in the pit of her stomach. Each stroke of his tongue wound her desire tighter, heavier.

Braden kissed Jean with all the passion, all the longing he possessed. It began as a gentle kiss, one to coax and entice. But a single taste of her and he forgot everything but raw, unabashed hunger.

It was a kiss to lay his claim.

His arms tightened about her, bringing her closer, locking her shapely body firmly along his length. He felt her soft touch as her fingers plunged into his hair.

Braden's mind told him to be cautious, to not allow himself to be pulled under by the overwhelming need for her. But the temptation was too great.

He fell headlong into the desire. He plunged in and forgot all reason.

Nothing mattered but Jean. And the flare of pleasure that pounded in his veins.

Braden tasted her unleashed passion and craved more. He wanted all of her, everything she had to offer.

Another satisfied moan tore from him as Jean pressed against him, as if she too sought to get closer. Whatever control Braden had thought to hold on to vanished in that moment.

She was his.

With one arm holding her, he reached between them and cupped her breast. Her fingers tightened at his neck, a heartbeat before she arched into his hand.