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"Then we'll bring ye to Kirallen," Dougal answered. "And I think he'd far rather have us bring your carcass than to trouble about ye any more."

"You can try," Alistair said and though Deirdre could not see his face, he sounded more amused than frightened.

The men shifted and Deirdre could see him then, standing with his back against a sturdy oak. He looked completely unconcerned, almost bored as he regarded Dougal and another man who stood before him, both with drawn swords pointed at his heart.

You fool, Deirdre thought, watching through a shimmer of tears as the rest of the Maxwells dismounted. Do you think you can stand against them all?

She stepped into the road and opened her mouth to cry out, then stopped, speechless, as Alistair's blade appeared in his hand. How did he do that? she wondered, confused. I never even saw him move. Dougal Maxwell was equally surprised. A moment later he dropped to his knees, one hand clutched to his bleeding thigh.

The second man engaged Alistair, but he was outmatched from the start. In the time it took Deirdre to draw breath, he was disarmed and backing swiftly towards his horse.

That left eight of them against a single man. But if the odds alarmed Alistair, he gave no sign of it. He was even smiling a little as he waited for the next attack to come. The Maxwells nudged each other, but none of them stepped forward. Alistair grinned, lifting his sword in an invitation none was quite ready to accept.

Deirdre's heart was pounding furiously, and much as she longed to cry out, she was afraid that matters had gone too far for her to stop them now. The next few seconds seemed to stretch on endlessly as they all stood frozen in their places, like painted figures on a frieze.

The taut silence was shattered by the sound of galloping hoofbeats, and a dozen mounted men rounded the bend. Kirallens, Deirdre thought, recognizing their colors. Ah, God, there was nothing that could save Alistair now.

Their leader sat astride an enormous gray stallion. He pulled up so sharply that the horse pranced beneath him, but he brought it easily under control and surveyed the men before him with a long cool look.

"What is this?" he called. "Did you find the lady?"

"Nay," Dougal Maxwell answered, rising to his feet, hand clutched over his bleeding leg. "Not yet. But we did find something that might interest ye."

Alistair leaned against the tree and crossed one ankle over the other. "Hello, Jemmy," he said casually.

The man on the stallion went very still. His dark eyes were hooded and his expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. "Hello, Alistair. I didn't expect to find you here."

"Aye, well, 'tis a bit of a surprise to me, as well," Alistair admitted. "But here I am."

"He ran off with the woman," Dougal said. "A woodsman said he gave them shelter two nights ago. He stole her away and now he's hiding her."

"Did you steal the Maxwell lady?" Jemmy Kirallen asked, never taking his gaze from Alistair.

"Nay."

"Lying bastard!" Dougal cried. "Take him—alive. We'll have the truth from him—"

"He says the woman isn't with him," Jemmy said.

"He lies!"

"Do you?" Jemmy said, raising one brow as he turned back to Alistair.

Alistair looked around, as though inviting them all to see he was alone, then shrugged.

"And what difference does it make to you if he lies or no?" Dougal demanded. "He's a banished man! Give him to us and we'll have the truth from him—and we'll make sure he never troubles ye again."

"That's very neighborly of you, Dougal," Jemmy said. "But I think I can handle him myself."

Alistair smiled.

"Listen, Kirallen," Dougal said, his face reddening. "It's the woman we want—"

"Then I suggest you go and look for her," Jemmy said curtly. "For myself, I begin to think she never came this way at all. We've scoured every acre for three days now and seen no sign of her."

"But what of him?" Dougal cried, pointing to Alistair.

"He is none of your concern. This is a Kirallen matter and I'll thank you to stay out of it."