She simply waited, wondering how simpleminded were these soldiers that her poor plan was having such success so quickly.

"Angus!"

Lachlan's command snapped the soldier from his reverie and he swung Emily into his lap.

She sat primly forward, but turned to smile up at him once more. "Thank you kindly for allowing me to ride with you."

"He allows nothing. I have ordered it," Lachlan growled.

Emily ignored him, deciding then and there that her campaign to confuse the soldiers with her cheerful countenance would not stretch to their leader. She never wanted to speak to him again.

She faced forward without another word. The trip up the cliff was not as harrowing as the water crossing, but she did give thanks to God more than once that she had no fear of heights. The trail zigzagging up the side of the cliff was barely wide enough for the large war horses, its right side a rock face and the left a sheer drop back down.

Unless there was another path to reach the cliff-top castle, she could not imagine a force of any strength could ever surprise the Balmorals with their arrival, or even make it as far as the castle unless the Balmorals wanted them to.

Cait had been right. There was no way her brother would be able to rescue them once they were inside the castle walls.

When they reached the top of the cliff, they could see the drawbridge was down and so they rode right into the lower bailey before they stopped and dismounted. Men and women wearing the Balmoral plaid looked with open curiosity upon Emily and Cait. They didn't scowl like the Sinclairs had even though Emily knew her dress had to give away her Englishness.

One older woman with a kind face and eyes very like Angus's even came forward. "Who is that you have with you, son?"

"The Balmoral's captive. She's promised to the Sinclair."

"So, we've taken two in retaliation for Susannah, then?" The woman's face creased in a satisfied smile.

"Aye, we have."

Drustan laid a possessive hand on Cait's protruding belly. "Nay, we have taken three."

Cait's eyes filled with tears and Emily wanted to smack him.

But keeping with her intent to confuse them, she smiled instead. "I still say it is a poor man who takes his revenge through women and a child."

She'd said the words sweetly, so Drustan's scowl didn't come for two heartbeats after she'd spoken. When it did, it was fierce enough to fell the monster werewolves Emily's faraway housekeeper had told her and Abigail so many stories about.

Cait, however, no longer looked ready to cry and that was all Emily wanted. She was shaking her head, her eyes questioning Emily's sanity.

Angus laughed though.

"You find the insult to your brother amusing?" the older woman censured.

"Our laird has said she is English and will therefore have to learn our ways to understand them. I'm inclined to agree."

His mother shook her head. "An insult is an insult, Angus… even to an Englishwoman."

"Enough of this foolish talk." Lachlan's harsh voice came from directly behind Emily. "The priest waits for us up at the keep."

And that was when she learned there was to be a wedding between Cait and Drustan. Immediately.

"But the marriage sacrament is to be spoken in the morning," Emily said, scandalized as she followed the soldiers to the keep. She was still intent on ignoring Lachlan, so she was haranguing Drustan instead. "And Cait cannot go to her wedding without the opportunity to prepare her person. This is too barbaric even for you Balmorals."

"Yon would prefer I took your friend to my bed tonight without making her my wife?" he asked in a lazy drawl that made her want to scream.

"I would prefer you waited until she has had sufficient time to prepare."

"And how long would that be, English?"

"It takes time to organize a wedding… days, weeks even."

"On the contrary, the wedding is already set." Lachlan's voice came from her left, but she refused to look at him.

"Drustan… please, you must reconsider."

"My laird has ordered the wedding take place now. It shall be done."

They had reached the keep and the small group swept into the great hall where a priest did indeed wait near the fireplace. He wore the proper vestments and his expression was kind, but the image of him sent Emily's heart pounding.

Cait did not look similarly affected. Her expression was stoic, but that was a far cry from serene and Emily wished there was something she could do to save her friend.

She was even willing to renege on her promise to herself never to speak to Lachlan again, if it would help. Spinning to face him, she grabbed his arm in urgent appeal. "Please, don't do this. Not tonight. Give her time to… to…"

"To what, English? Waiting will not change her fate."

"But she never even met Drustan before today."

"How many times had you met Talorc before your father sent you here?"

"That is not the same thing. This is not by order of the king. And Talorc did not force the marriage upon my arrival."

"He would if he had wanted to bed you."

Emily reeled back from the brutal crudity of the words, but she could not allow herself to become overset. She had to keep fighting for Cait's welfare. "Nevertheless—"

"Enough," he said, cutting her off. "If you do not cease this tirade, I will have you taken to the tower before the wedding takes place."

Emily's mouth snapped closed on another argument. She was Cait's only friend present. She had to stay. With that thought in mind, she went to stand by Cait's side.

Cait did not look at her, but she squeezed Emily's hand as if to tell her she was glad she was there. Then she clasped her own hands in front of her, her mouth set in a firm line. Drustan took his place on the other side of Cait and Lachlan moved to stand beside him. Angus and the older woman who had spoken outside stood nearby. Everyone in the hall grew silent.

The priest began the marriage sacrament with the right words, but Emily could not help feeling it was sacrilegious to speak them in the evening rather than the morning. Was the marriage valid if the procedure dictated by Rome was not followed to the letter?

She prayed for the sake of her friend's soul that it was.

Drustan spoke his vows in a firm voice, but when it came time to speak her vows, Cait remained mute. The priest repeated his question, but Cait acted as if she had not heard.

Emily did not blame her. In fact, it was a clever plan. According to the laws of the Church, a marriage could be annulled if both parties did not enter into it willingly.

Frowning, Drustan took Cait by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "You will be mine regardless of what you do here."

Face averted, Cait shrugged, but Emily could see the tension in her friend's body.

The priest looked to Lachlan for instruction.

Lachlan looked at Drustan. Drustan crossed his arms, his intent clear. He would not budge on his stand.

Emily was proud of Cait's strength of purpose, but it worried her. Better to be wedded before being bedded, or so Sybil had always said. Emily didn't make it a habit to agree with her stepmother, but in this case… she did. And after the kiss she'd witnessed on the boat between Cait and Drustan, she had no doubt just where Cait was going to end up sleeping this night.

Lachlan crossed his arms over his broad chest, his expression bored. "The priest will speak the blessing over you on my say so."

The holy man winced, but nodded.

Cait did nothing… said nothing.

"I prefer her to speak her vows. I am content to keep her without the benefit of marriage until she does so."

"No," Emily gasped, but no one paid her any heed.

Lachlan considered Cait for several long minutes of silence. "Very well, until you speak your vows to my soldier and bind yourself to him willingly and forever, the English woman will warm my bed."

Blackness washed over Emily and it was all she could do to remain standing. "You lied again," she whispered.

But he heard her. So did everyone else from the reaction she received, but she didn't care. The soldiers could glare all they liked and the priest might as well stop looking like she'd spoken a blasphemy. Lachlan of the Balmoral was no god to be blasphemed, no matter what the arrogant man might think.

"My patience with your insults grows thin."

"And I have no patience at all with your lies," she said, her voice stronger now, though her knees still felt wobbly.

"Tell me when I lied."

"You said you would not allow anyone to keep me."

He had the audacity to shake his head at her.

She scowled and nodded right back. "Yes, you did."

"I said I would not let any of my soldiers keep you."

"But—"

"I made no promise not to keep you myself."

"You can't," Cait said, her voice laced with shock. "If you do, Talorc will consider her mated to you and he will refuse to marry her."

"He has already refused."

"But he will come around."

Lachlan didn't even bother to shrug, but the dismissal of that paltry consideration was written into his very stance. He did not care about her future… only about getting his own way. He wanted his vengeance and he would not be denied.

"Emily, I…" Cait looked like she was ready to cry again.

Emily soothed her as best she could. "Do not worry about me. I will be all right," she lied with what was left of her courage.

But Cait shook her head. "No. You will be ruined… you'll be mated to him. They don't see it that way here… Susannah told us, but the Sinclairs will. I'm sure your English father will."