"Keep up your teasing. I don't care," Olivia had responded. "But after I tell Aleix how nasty you've been to me, what incentive will he have to be civil to your unsuitable mate?"

She'd had a point, but fortunately she suspected Olivia wouldn't tell Aleix anything.

And now, today, they were finally here. When the coach stopped and Ethan's guards deemed it safe to clear room, Annalía tumbled out and ran to the house. She tripped in breathless and hugged Aleix, who'd come to greet them.

He smiled down at her and then at Olivia when she entered. A peculiar smile for Olivia. A loving smile? She'd never really seen them together. Oh, Olivia did not just blush?

Annalía waved her hand in front of him. "Where's MacCarrick?"

He faced her, his expression turning grave. "Annalía, he's…well, he's ridden from here. He went north, I believe."

A wheezing sound passed her lips as she sank down onto an ottoman. "I don't understand. Why would he do that? Didn't he know we were returning?"

Olivia walked up behind her. "Did he say anything?"

"He wished Annalía well."

"Wished me well?" Her voice was strident. She hadn't stopped throwing up. She believed she would right now.

"He's not exactly a man of many words, as you know. Annalía, he and I decided it was for the best. He wasn't the right man for you."

Her eyes narrowed. "You and he decided? The two of you decided my future? Coach-and-six!" she cried as she shot to her feet. "You…You coach-and-sixed me!"

He looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. She felt the blood leaving her face, and her legs buckled, forcing her right back down.

Aleix rushed to her and grabbed her shoulders. "What's wrong with you? What did he do?"

She dimly saw a hand snake from behind her to slap his sharply until he released her.

"Annalía, this is for the best. He's from a completely foreign culture and doesn't have wealth to keep you as you should live. And I don't know if he told you or not, but he can't father children."

She stared up at him, tears welling. "I beg to differ."

"Court, are you all right?" Hugh asked with a snap of his fingers.

"Huh? Why?"

"If your horse had no' sidestepped, that limb back there would've taken your head."

Court jerked around for a look. He'd never seen it. He'd been lost in thought wondering where she was right now, what she was doing, and knowing she was happier than he was. She had to be. He faced front again, surprised they'd already arrived at the drive for Groot's—though he shouldn't be surprised. They'd made good time since Hugh had led them off the main road to follow a shorter horse trail. Hugh hadn't taken any chances that Court might pass Annalía on her journey home.

"I was thinkin' about her," Court muttered. "Miss her."

"Aye, I know."

"I miss her so bad it's like…"

"Grief?" Hugh asked, as he swung from the saddle.

He nodded slowly.

"Court, I wish I could tell you it'll get better." Hugh gave him a weary look. "But it does no'."

If this wouldn't get better, if everything continued to remind him of her…

"Where's the pretty Andorran?" Groot asked the minute they entered the posting house.

"Safe at home," Hugh answered for him when Court could only scowl.

"Good to know," he said absently as his wife called him to help with guests. They had another full house. Court sank down on a bench because his leg was paining him, and thought to himself that the seat wasn't too uncomfortable. He'd sleep right here before he took the room he and Anna had shared before.

Hugh crossed to the bar and helped himself to pouring two whiskies.

"You know, Hugh, got a missive for you," Groot said, leaning in to add, "From Weyland himself."

Hugh's brows drew together and the bottle slammed to the bartop. "Now, Groot."

When Hugh ripped open and scanned the message, he went rigid and his face grew tight, the lines there deepening. The new jagged gashes on his forehead and the side of his face twisted.

"What the hell is it?" Court had witnessed Hugh once in a killing fury, and it was a memory he would never forget. The savage look on Hugh's face right now was so far beyond that—it was chilling. Court rose, then limped over to work the note from a hand clenched so hard it was white.

MacCarrick,

Jane's life is in grave danger. Come quickly.

Weyland

"We ride now," Court said as he turned for the door.

"No, Court." When he looked back, Hugh shook his head hard. "I go alone."

As if Court didn't understand what he was capable of. "I owe you a debt greater than I think you comprehend. And I'll be payin' it now."

"God damn it, Court, no. You're injured, and I'll need two horses, which means yours as well."

"Of course, but—"

Less than a minute later, Court stood outside with the wind swirling around him as he watched Hugh ride off at a reckless clip. Court was confident he'd reach her in time, and could almost pity whatever force had jeopardized Hugh's Jane. In fact, his only concern was if Hugh would be strong enough to resist his feelings for her. For Hugh's sake he hoped the shameless chit had outgrown her teasing.

Court ran a hand over the back of his neck, considering his own situation. Damn it, Hugh had been all that had gotten him out of Andorra. If his brother hadn't been there to warn and rail and commiserate with him, Court doubted he could've left. Now the temptation to return and find her was nearly overwhelming.

He watched the setting sun through a veil of darting leaves, but everything was dead to him, the colors muted. He had no plans, had no idea what he would do. He could go east with the others and ride for Otto or head north for home. He could go south….

Anna was better off without him. Established. But was she happy? Or was she as bloody miserable and bad off as he? Was she dreading her trip to Castile?

He'd given his oath to Llorente not to see her. Vowed not even to go near her.

And Llorente had proven himself a decent man. He'd presented Hugh with a fine steed for his help. To Court he'd offered a handshake, which was "much, much harder to part with."

In return Court again had given his word.

Hugh and Ethan had accepted their fates. But Court had dared to defy it for a time, and that was the only time in his life truly worth living.

He thought of the ten lines that had been seared into his mind the first day he'd seen the Leabhar, and narrowed his eyes. As the wind picked up again, rattling the trees, he turned to the south.

Court had a feeling he'd given Llorente his word as a gentleman.

Which was bloody convenient.

Autumn had arrived here on the mountain, and as regular as a clock, the meadow turned indigo with blooms. Annalía sank into the flowers to watch the sun go down—and to get away from Aleix and Olivia as they vainly tried to hide their feelings for each other. Annalía wanted to shout at them that she was enceinte, not stupid.

She plucked a bloom, then pulled the binding from her hair. Why not let it flow free? Would people talk? The way she was growing, in another month they'd have much more to talk about….

In response to the news of her condition, Aleix had wanted to kill the Highlander or drag him back here and "force him" to marry her. Another dismaying option he'd talked about was going to the family in Castile. "Should I take her there?" he'd asked Olivia. Asked Olivia!

Annalía answered again and again, "I don't want to marry anyone you'd have to force to the altar or anyone sight unseen." Besides the fact that she was still miserably in love with MacCarrick, Annalía refused to go to Castile, the very image of her mother, carrying a bastard.

Olivia's solution? Do nothing until they found MacCarrick. "His mother will tell him soon enough that Annalía is pregnant. He'll know the book is wrong, and then he will find her wherever she may be. If she is wed, he will kill the unfortunate groom for touching her and collect her regardless."

"Yet it could be months before he returns to London or receives any message from us," Aleix had pointed out. "Years, even, if he rejoins his men to the east. Her child will be a bastard in seven months if we don't get her married!" But fortunately, he'd taken her advice. Olivia usually did give good advice.

Since they'd arrived home, Olivia had settled in here, which wasn't that difficult since the people at the ranch were grateful to her for freeing Aleix. Even Vitale liked her. Annalía could only guess that he sensed a hardness in her, a fellow survivor, and respected her….

"It's getting chilly," Aleix said from behind her as he pulled a shawl over her shoulders.

Before long, the snow would come, sealing them in from the rest of the world as though in a cocoon. "I just want to watch the sun go down."

"The guards don't like you out after dark." Aleix had hired the men Ethan sent down, as they'd planned, until everything was settled in their country and around. She rarely saw them. Mostly they stayed at the foot of the mountain at the narrow passage to the plateaus. "How are you doing?" he asked.

She tried to answer lightly. "Besides being unmarried, with child, and abandoned, I'm far too splendid." She'd merely accomplished sullen, and sighed. "I believe I've topped even Mother's…peccadilloes."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Her affairs." She waved her hand as if she didn't care. "Everyone always said I looked just like her, that I was just like her."

"Affairs?" he choked out.