The grass was damp and several times she slipped. She kept her eyes on the path. A twisted ankle would be a death sentence.

By the time they reached the midway point, her breath was coming in hoarse pants and her legs were shaking with strain. The spot between her shoulder blades began to feel itchy. How many minutes had passed? Six? Seven? As long as they were on the hill, they were in deadly peril.

Haldoran's voice boomed out, echoing menacingly across the bay. "Eight minutes gone, and you're still easy targets."

"Don't waste time worrying," Michael snapped. "When he shoots, he'll aim at me first, and at this distance he'll probably miss."

In spite of the admonition not to worry, a clock began ticking in her mind, counting off the seconds. Eleven, twelve… She gasped and doubled over when she was struck by an agonizing stitch in her side. Straightening, she forced herself to ignore the pain and keep going. Thirty-five, thirty-six…

How much farther? Fifty, fifty-one… She glanced up and saw despairingly that there wasn't enough time. Sixty-two, sixty-three… She was staggering and on the verge of collapse.

Michael said sharply, "Think of Amy."

Energy from some unknown reserve renewed her. The brink of the hill was tantalizingly near. A hundred one, two, three… The pitch steepened. She caught at the tough clumps of grass and used them to drag herself upward. Her lungs were burning with a desperate need for air. Fifteen, sixteen…

The clock in her mind reached two minutes. Only a few more yards and they would be out of danger, but Haldoran could start shooting at any moment.

The pitch flattened and the path became wider. Michael drew even and hooked his arm around her waist, virtually carrying her the last stretch. As soon as they crested the hill, he dragged her to the ground. The harrowing blast of the rifle rang out even before they hit the grassy turf. Almost simultaneously, a spurt of earth marked the spot where the ball struck a few feet behind them.

"That's a good rifle and he's a good shot," Michael panted. "But we've won the first round. We should go a few feet farther. Then we can rest for a minute."

She nodded mutely and crawled across the grass on her hands and knees until they were well beyond the edge. Then she rolled onto her back, her lungs pumping frantically. Michael was treating her exactly as if she had been a particularly feeble soldier under his command. No doubt he was wise to avoid the personal issues between them. Nonetheless, she would have been humiliatingly grateful for any word or touch that showed that they had been lovers.

Michael was also breathing hard, but he kept his head up, studying their surroundings with cold concentration. "One thing that might cheer you a little. I gave a letter to the boatman who brought me to Skoal. He was to post it to London if I didn't meet him at dawn. Since I missed the rendezvous, the letter is on its way to my friend Lucien. I explained my suspicions and asked him to investigate if I disappeared. He spent years as the government's chief spymaster, so he will be able to discover what happened and take appropriate measures against Haldoran."

She raised her head, desperate with hope. "Will he be able to free Amy?"

"I guarantee it. It may take a little time, but she will not be left in Haldoran's hands."

"Thank God." Though it was a tremendous relief to know that her daughter would not be a victim for long, the thought of what might happen first was sickening. Catherine lay still for another dozen heartbeats, then pushed herself to a sitting position and surveyed the island.

Bone was a wild, barren place that reminded her of the Yorkshire moors. There were only a handful of stunted trees, not enough to break the force of the ceaseless sea winds. The right end of the island rose to rugged hills. However, most of the landscape was a plateau of rocks and vividly green grass that was cropped short by grazing animals.

The fuzzy gray shapes of several hundred sheep were scattered across the plateau with a sizable flock a few hundred yards to the left. There were also occasional cows, stocky russet beasts with long horns and shaggy coats. "There aren't many places to hide. Should we head into the hills?"

"Haldoran will probably assume we'll go that way. Better to go to the left, through the flock of sheep. The ground is more irregular than it appears, so there are plenty of places for concealment. We're also fortunate that this grass is so springy. If we're careful, we'll be almost impossible to track."

Wearily she got to her feet. "Lead on, Colonel. You're in charge of strategy and tactics."

Michael walked quickly until they neared the flock. Then he slowed to keep from frightening the sheep, which might alert their pursuers. The leisurely pace made Catherine's skin crawl. How long until the hunters reached the plateau?

Once through the flock, they went faster. Michael was right about the roughness of the ground. Gentle rises and depressions offered more cover than she had expected.

When the cliff edge was no longer visible, he cut left and circled until they were behind a small ridge crowned with quat shrubs. "Wait here," he said quietly. "If I've judged rightly, we should be able to see without being seen."

He went up the rise at a crouch, crawling on his belly when he reached the shrubs. A minute later, he whispered, "Success. If you want to see, come forward carefully."

She dropped down and crept up beside him. Their ridge offered a clear view of the spot where they had come onto he plateau. The small figures of Haldoran and Doyle were visible there now, catching their breath from the climb, both carried rifles. Her cousin slowly scanned the plateau, hen gestured toward the hills. The two men set off briskly, loving away from their quarry.

She gave a long sigh of relief. They had won a second round, and it gave them some respite. Keeping her voice low even though the hunters could not possibly hear at this distance, she asked, "Do you have a plan?"

"To avoid getting caught," Michael said dryly. "I don't have plans, merely contingencies. There's a bad storm coming, probably tonight. That will work in our favor. The island will not be a pleasant place when the storm hits. Haldoran and his men will probably return to Skoal to avoid being caught in it."

"I suppose it's too much to hope that they would drown on the trip back. Is there any chance that the shot Clive fired will attract attention on Skoal?"

"Not with the wind blowing from the east. Even if a fisherman heard and investigated, it wouldn't help us. Your cousin would give some plausible lie for being here. If that didn't work, I don't think he would hesitate to kill."

She should have known that Michael had already thought out the possibilities. "What do you think of our chances of surviving? The truth, please."

"It's hard to say." His expression was troubled. "I think it's possible to hide and live off the land indefinitely, but Haldoran's patience won't last for more than a day or two. My fear is that he'll bring dogs to track us."

The idea sent a chill through her. Hounds baying at their heels… "Is there any way to turn the tables on him?"

"Perhaps. I want to study the lay of the land. There might be a spot for an ambush, though it won't be easy to bring down two armed men." He gazed toward the sea, his eyes narrowed. "As a last resort, it might be possible to swim to Skoal."

She stared at him. "Are you serious? The channel between the islands is notoriously dangerous. I can swim a little, but I'd never make it that far in rough seas."

"I might be able to do it. If I succeed, I could send help back to you." He frowned. "But I'd rather not leave you alone."

The idea appalled her. Not only would Michael be braving cold water, rocks, and vicious currents, but he would probably have to attempt the crossing at night to avoid being seen. The odds of him surviving were not good. "Swimming is definitely a last resort."

He shrugged. "Drowning while trying to escape would be better than being shot like a deer."

Stealthily he withdrew from the shrubbery. Catherine followed him down the slope. At the bottom was a tiny brook. He pressed his palms into the muddy bank, then wiped smudges on her tan breeches with impersonal hands. ''You'll be harder to see if dark patches break up the lightness. Wipe some on your face, too. If we find any light-colored clay, I'll use it to splotch up this dark outfit of mine."

"You seem to know a great deal about being hunted."

He grimaced. "Once as a very new officer in Spain, I became separated from my men during a scouting patrol. Not my finest hour. The French learned a British officer was lost behind their lines and organized a manhunt. Though I eluded them for three days, eventually I was captured. I managed to escape, but the other officers in my company teased me unmercifully for being so inept. It was a very chastening experience."

She smiled a little, though her mood was somber. She lad brought so much trouble on Michael, as she had on everyone close to her. Colin had died because of her, Michael might die as well, and Amy was a prisoner who faced in unspeakable future. Rationally Catherine knew she was lot responsible for Haldoran's wickedness-yet even so, crushing guilt weighed on her.

She studied Michael, who was washing the mud from his lands. He would do his best to get her out of this alive. For honor's sake, he would probably sacrifice his life if it might save hers. But he would not want her in his life after all that had happened. She had placed her darts well when she sent him away, and the fragile trust that had been growing in him had been crushed, probably beyond repair.