The coward kept Jessie in front of him, like a shield, less than a foot from the ravine. If only she was a safe distance back, he'd skewer Haldane with an arrow.

Jessie slowly lifted her right leg toward her hand, dug beneath her skirt, and took something from her calf. A knife. Nay! 'Twas too dangerous. What the devil was she planning?

Torrin's hands clutched the bow and arrow tightly. He had to be ready to shoot quickly.

Jessie carefully moved the sgian dubh into position, then stabbed backward into Haldane's belly. He howled and shoved her to the ground beside him. Torrin swiftly nocked and released the arrow. It shot across the ravine and jabbed into Haldane's throat. He gasped and tried to pull it out while blood spurted from the wound.

Jessie attempted to crawl away from him and the cliff's edge, but Gil kicked at her, blocking her path.

"Bastard," Torrin growled. "Give me another arrow, Sim!"

In a trice, he had one in hand and nocked. He let it fly toward Gil, but the lad dove to the ground at the last second, and it missed.

"Damnation! Another," he demanded.

He shot this arrow at Haldane, hitting him in the side, hoping he'd die before he could harm Jessie.

Haldane dropped to his knees at the edge of the drop-off, his bloody hands grabbing onto Jessie's skirts. She kicked at him as he started sliding off the cliff.

"Turn her loose!" Torrin yelled, his heart seizing and dizziness crashing in on him again. He couldn't get around the deep ravine in time to pull her back. Sim and Luag took off at a sprint in that direction.

Jessie slid down the cliff face onto a lower rock that jutted out. Using the knife, she cut at her skirts. The material ripped off under Haldane's weight and he fell. She dropped her knife and grabbed onto the rock with both hands, most of her body dangling over the edge.

"Help her back up!" Torrin ordered the two men left standing, McMurdo armed with a sword and targe, Gil with a bow and arrows.

Gil launched an arrow in their direction, and Torrin leapt out of the way. It drove into the ground a foot from him. Gil took off at a fast sprint away from them.

"What the hell is going on out here?" a deep voice yelled behind them.

Torrin turned to find Dirk approaching, limping, a sword in his hand, his red hair windblown, his blue eyes wild and his clothes bloody. Several men accompanied him.

"Tell that bastard to help her back up!" Torrin said, hanging onto consciousness by a thread. Iain grasped Torrin's shoulder. Had he swayed?

Dirk stepped forward, eying Jessie clutching the rocky outcropping with both hands. "Pull her up, McMurdo!"

"Promise me, upon your life and your wife's life," McMurdo said, "that you will give me the tomb in the church your father promised me, and I will."

"Aye. Of course! The tomb in the church is yours!" Dirk yelled. "And I'll be glad to put you in it," he growled low.

Hurry, you bastard! Torrin wanted to shout. The lower half of Jessie's body was dangling off the cliff.

"And you'll all let me go free," McMurdo said.

"Aye. You can go free," Dirk said. "Just help her up now or you'll be a dead man buried at sea!"

McMurdo reached a hand down. Clinging to the cliff with one hand, Jessie reached up and grabbed onto McMurdo's hand. He hauled her up to solid ground, then took off, running like a scalded rat.

Torrin, Dirk, and Iain hastened to circumvent the deep ravine and get to Jessie. Torrin glanced across to find her crawling away from the edge of the cliff. Sim and Luag finally reached her and helped her to a safer area. "Thank the saints," Torrin whispered, so much relief flowing through him, the pain vanished for a second.

"Where's Haldane?" Dirk asked, breathing hard.

"Dead," Iain said. "Fell off the cliff with an arrow in his throat."

"In truth?" Dirk glanced at the bow Torrin carried. "You shot him, MacLeod?"

"Aye." All he could focus on was seeing Jessie. Holding her. 'Twas all he cared about. By the time he limped to her, minutes later, he was out of breath and lightheaded, his vision blurring, the pain nigh overwhelming.

His men had helped Jessie move several yards away from the sea cliff's rim where she sat upon the grass. Torrin dropped to his knees beside her and pulled her into his arms. She would never know how precious she was to him.

"Thank God. I feared I'd lost you, Jessie."

Torrin felt himself falling and all went black.

***

"Retreat!" MacBain called out to his men. Damnation, they had lost at least eight men. But Haldane and his gang had disappeared, leaving the MacBains to fight the MacKays. The force that had just arrived by galley, along with the men from inside the castle walls, had combined to outnumber them. 'Twas a losing battle, and he couldn't allow more of his men to be slaughtered.

On foot, he and his clan scrambled up the hill and crossed the top. "Are they following?" he shouted back, gasping for breath.

"Nay, they're all headed in the opposite direction."

MacBain paused on top of the grassy hill and squinted, scanning the rocky headland in the distance where all the MacKays were running. Something was going on at the cliff's edge, but 'twas so far, he couldn't see who was involved.

Clearly, joining forces with Haldane MacKay had been a mistake. The lad had let on like he commanded a large faction of men who were scattered about. But he'd only had a few, mayhap half a dozen. Given the strength of the MacKay clan and how they fought for their chief, Dirk, they would never back Haldane as chief, anyway. 'Twas a lost cause.

MacBain had injured Torrin MacLeod in that sword dual, but he hadn't been able to kill him before his sword-bearer had engaged MacBain in a fight and driven him back. He'd had to retreat to save his own skin, but he'd escaped the bastard without much injury.

"Grab the horses and let's get out of here!" he ordered. "You two stay here, well hidden." He pointed to two of his stealthiest men. "Watch the castle, or find one of Haldane's men—if any of them survived—and see if Torrin MacLeod is alive or dead. Once you know for certain, head south. We'll wait for you just outside of Scourie."

"Aye, m'laird," they both murmured.

"We're headed to Scourie?" his sword-bearer asked.

"Aye. And if MacLeod lives, we go toward Munrick."

Moments later, they led the horses from the low-lying thicket where they'd hidden them earlier and mounted.

"What's your plan?" his sword-bearer asked.

"If MacLeod survives, he will head for home eventually. We'll be waiting for him just north of his keep. He only had seven men with him, if you recall. And if Iain Stewart accompanies him, that will be five more, if they all survived the battle. We'll have them outnumbered. And if he brings Lady Jessie home with him, as his new bride, we'll kill the bastard and then grab her."

They took off, riding as if the devil were on their tails.

Aye, his plan was brilliant. He no longer cared about her dowry. 'Twas now about pride and revenge. No one got the best of Gregor MacBain.

***

"He still lives," Iain said, kneeling on the other side of Torrin, passed out on the grass.

"Thank the saints," Jessie whispered, the cooler air of gloaming and the harsh wind blasting the headland giving her a shiver. When Torrin had dropped to the ground beside her, she'd feared he was dead. He'd lost so much blood, his skin was pale. But thankfully, he still breathed.