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That was the opening Alisdair needed. He crossed the room in a single stride and raised his sword. Gavin growled and raised his dirk, but Alisdair’s rage was devastating. The blow sent Gavin to his knees.

Before the man had the chance to regain his footing, Alisdair swung his sword and drove it through his chest.

Isla watched as Gavin crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. Then she heard the hiss of a sword being sheathed, before Alisdair’s strong hands cupped her face.

“Isla! Look at me! Are ye hurt?”

She looked up at him, swallowing.

His eyes raked over her, scanning her for injuries with desperate thoroughness, his hands shaking. Her chest ached at the sight of his worry.

“Isla?”

“I am well,” she reassured him. “I am well.”

She finally let her tears fall, the nail slipping from her fingers. She buried her face in his chest, needing to feel his strength, his warmth. Her body shook as she sobbed, and he wrapped his strong arms around her.

“I’ve got ye, Isla,” he murmured into her hair. “I am here. It is over.”

She let herself weep, not from fear but from overwhelming relief.

Her husband was here. He had come for her. And she was wrapped tight in the only place that had ever truly felt like home.

His arms.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

HOME

Alisdair settled Isla more comfortably in his arms, one arm wrapped around her, the other hand holding the reins.

“I can ride, Alisdair,” she insisted, looking up at him.

“I ken,” he said, glancing down into her eyes.

He had found Luath tied to a tree a little distance from the cabin, and now she was secured to Treun as they rode back to the castle.

“I still cannae believe ye rode here on yer own,” Isla murmured.

“I wasnae goin’ to waste time waitin’ for the others.”

She stiffened, and he pulled Treun to a halt.

“Are ye in pain?” he asked.

“It might still be dangerous! Gavin was working with me uncle, and he will surely⁠—”

“Isla…” Alisdair tried.

“Ye daenae understand.” Isla swallowed, panicked. “The two of them are working together. Gavin said that me uncle⁠—”

“Isla.”

“The road isnae safe.” She looked around. “I was attacked by men. Maybe there are others. We should⁠—”

“Isla,” Alisdair pressed.

He looked down at his frantic wife, who was still shaking from the shock of being attacked, snatched, and held at knife point. He cupped her face to make sure her focus stayed solely on him. To his satisfaction, she melted in his arms.