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Deirdre, who had turned toward the sounds coming from the forest, jerked her gaze back to his face. "Yes."

He gave her a small pouch, tied securely at the top. She felt the weight of it, heard the dull clink of coins as it changed hands, and looked up at him sharply. "What is this?"

"When ye come to the waterfall, take shelter in the thicket," he went on, ignoring her question. "Wait for dusk, then head north. Tonight, or early tomorrow, ye will see a break in the hills, verra sharp, like this—" he held up two fingers to illustrate. "There is a cave just between—make for it as fast as ye are able. An old man dwells there, Fergus is his name. He can be trusted absolutely, just tell him I sent you."

Deirdre thrust the pouch at him. "This is yours--"

He waved it aside. "Now, what did I tell ye to do?"

It was all happening too fast. Deirdre could hardly understand that he was leaving her, when just a moment ago he had promised to come to Donegal. She stared down at the pouch holding his entire fortune and knew he did not believe they would meet again.

"Wait," she said.

"Nay, Deirdre we canna wait. Tell me." When she did not answer, he put his hands on her shoulders and shook her. "Say it! What are ye going to do?"

"Walk upstream to the waterfall. Go north. Look for a break in the hills."

"Aye, that's right."

"But—"

He leaned down and kissed her hard, his beard scraping against her cheeks. Then he scooped Maeve from the ground and hugged her briefly. "Be a good lass. Mind your Mam."

"Aye, Star," Maeve whispered, her eyes round.

"But—" Deirdre said again, and he put a finger to her lips.

"Take Maeve home to Donegal. Ye can do it, lass. Nay, Finn," he added sharply as the dog began to run from the clearing.

The hounds bayed again, and a man cried out, "To me! This way, they have something!" His voice was so close that Deirdre's heart leaped to her throat.

"Now go," Alistair said, giving her a push.

"Finn, come," she called over her shoulder as she sprinted toward the water. The dog bounded over to her side, tail wagging. Just as she stepped into the icy burn she looked back and saw Alistair leap onto Germain's back. He turned toward her, and when he smiled, Deirdre felt her eyes fill.

"God go with you," he said. "I'll find ye if I can."

The water was deeper than it looked. It swirled about Deirdre's knees, clutching at her heavy skirts, trying to drag her under. She staggered on, Maeve heavy in her arms, but froze as she heard raised voices. Finn looked back, whining, but stilled when Deirdre laid a hand on his head.

It could mean only one thing. Alistair was trying to hold them off to buy her time to get away. She stood in the foaming water, her legs numb from the cold, and felt Maeve burning with the fever. Enough, she thought. This has gone far enough.

She struggled to the bank and ran toward the voices, hampered by the weight of the child and her wet skirts. Her breath came in sobbing gasps as she stumbled through the clutching undergrowth.

She reached the road in time to see a group of Maxwells on horses, watching something she could not see.

"You have no right to take me. I've done ye no harm."

She sagged against the tree, dizzy with relief, as she recognized Alistair's voice.

"We heard ye were travelin' with a woman and a child," a deep voice answered. "Where are they?"

"You heard wrong," Alistair said flatly. "Now stand aside and let me pass."

"This is Kirallen land, ye fool," the other man answered contemptuously. "And 'tis well known ye've been banished by the laird's own word. But if ye give us the woman and the bairn we'll let Kirallen settle it—if he can find ye."

"Weel, thank you Dougal," Alistair answered, "But I'm afraid I canna oblige. I told ye already that I travel alone."

Deirdre's heart sank a little further. Dougal Maxwell had been Brodie's closest friend and was renowned for both his skill at arms and his utter contempt for anything female. Deirdre could not remember him speaking a single word to her in all the weary years at Cranston Keep.