Connor waited for Ilysa to come to supper, letting the food grow cold before he took up his eating knife to signal the start of the meal. Though his appetite had left him, he forced himself to eat. Nor did he permit himself to glance at her empty chair again, though he was aware of it every moment.

He maintained a pretense of calm and spoke with his men throughout the meal and afterward as well. When he could leave the hall without his departure seeming abrupt, he went up to his chamber.

"Unless we have guests, I will no longer require guards outside my door," he told the two warriors waiting there. "Tell the others."

Having guards outside his chamber was a symbol of chieftainship that now seemed far less important than his privacy. His sword and the bar on his door was all the protection he needed.

He sat in his chair, drumming his fingers and staring at the glowing logs of peat on the brazier. As he waited for the night to come, he tried to plan his strategy for the battle with the MacLeods, but his mind kept returning to Ilysa.

Again and again, he went over what happened in this chamber a few hours earlier. The signs of her innocence had been there, but he had wanted her so badly that he had seen what he wanted to see. She had been willing, but willing to do what? She had done little more than kiss him back, and he had reacted by tossing her skirts up and ravishing her.

Lust had made him deaf, dumb, and blind. For the first time, he understood how his father could disregard the consequences and let himself be ruled by lust. But his father believed he had a right to indulge in his desire, no matter how selfish, and he never felt guilty for it.

Connor was awash in guilt.

Time and again, he saw the swath of blood against the whiteness of Ilysa's slender thigh. Then he recalled how her legs wobbled as he rushed her out the door. Though he had been trying to protect her, that was no way to leave her. He could not make things right. Still, he needed to talk to her and see how she fared.

Finally, the household was asleep, and he could go to her chamber without the entire castle knowing it. A short time later, he rapped his knuckles lightly on her door.

"Who is it?" Ilysa's voice came through the door.

"Connor." He wondered if his name would gain him entry. After a pause, he heard the bar slide back.

He stepped inside quickly - and his breath caught when he saw her behind the door. Her skin and hair glowed in the golden light of the flickering candle in her hand. Though there was nothing revealing about her long white nightshift, it had the power of the forbidden to turn his thoughts in untoward directions. His breathing grew shallow as his gaze traveled down its length to her beguiling bare toes poking out from the bottom.

Connor finally remembered to shut the door. "We must talk."

She gestured toward the lone bench and, after setting her candlestick on the small table next to it, sat down on one end. Ilysa looked so small and fragile that he felt huge sitting next to her. While he usually admired her capacity for silence, he wished she would say something now.

"I was concerned when ye did not come to the hall all day," he said. "Are ye all right?"

She nodded without meeting his gaze. Clearly, she was not all right.

"I am sorry I..." There were so many things to be sorry for that Connor did not know where to start, and so he said the last thing he should have said aloud. "I'm sorry I couldn't hold ye after."

It turned out, however, to be the right thing.

Ilysa raised her gaze and gave him a faint smile. "That would have been nice."

When he gingerly put his arm around her, she leaned her head against his shoulder and gave a shuddering sigh. He held her gently, and neither of them spoke for a long time.

"I've never bedded a virgin before," he said at last. "Did I hurt ye badly?"

"No."

He didn't believe her. "I would have been gentler if I'd known," he said, though he would not have done it at all. "You were married. I don't understand how ye could be untouched."

"M��chael was killed at the Battle of Flodden a short time after we wed."

"Precisely how long were ye wed?" Connor asked, leaning back so he could see her face.

Ilysa paused and licked her lips. "Three months."

"Three months?" Connor lifted her chin. "How could a man be wed to ye for even a day and not bed ye?"

Ilysa's bottom lip trembled.

"What happened?" Connor brushed a loose red-gold strand back from her pixie face and resisted kissing her forehead.

"My husband didn't want me in that way," Ilysa said, blinking hard.

"Ye can't be serious."

"It wasn't his fault," she said. "I'm not pretty like Moira and S��leas."

"Ach, you're as lovely as a woodland sprite."

"Ye don't have to tell me lies," Ilysa said, attempting a smile, "though I confess I like it."

"I don't know how your husband could resist ye once he had ye na - " Connor clamped his mouth shut, but it was too late to stop him from imagining her naked. Desire hit him hard. Damn, why had he not paused to take her clothes off today?

He reminded himself that he was here to comfort her - and to get some answers - but it was difficult to concentrate when he could feel the warmth of her skin through the nightshift. He was far too aware that she wore nothing beneath it.

"M��chael did try sometimes," Ilysa said in a small voice. "But he couldn't, and that was worse."

"Did he like men?" Connor asked, as that seemed the only possible explanation. When her eyes went wide, he asked, "Ye do know that some men are like that?"

She shook her head.

Connor was not surprised. He had met men among the nobility in France who did not hide their interest in other men, but a Highland warrior with any sense of self-preservation would keep it secret. After Connor explained his suspicions about her husband, Ilysa was thoughtful for a long moment.

"M��chael did have a friend, another warrior, that he was especially close to," she said. "But then, you're close to my brother and your cousins."

"Not like that!" Connor took a deep breath. Ilysa should have had a husband who could share her passion - a passion Connor must stop dwelling on. "I suspect he wanted a wife so no one would guess his secret. You were the perfect choice because you'd never gossip with the other women about what happened - or didn't - in bed."

"That much is true," she said, her face going pink. "As a healer, I'm often told women's complaints about their husbands, but I never told a soul."

"I can see why he wed you, but why did you wed him?" he asked.

"My mother was dying, and she wished it," Ilysa said. "She told me M��chael would be a good husband because he would not be demanding."

Ach, Anna must have known.

"Duncan was gone, and I had no one else." She shrugged her slender shoulder. "I suppose I was feeling a bit lost, and M��chael was a fine man."

Anna had been a kindhearted but excessively fearful woman. The "undemanding" husband, oversize clothes, and severe headdresses must have been her way, misguided though it was, of protecting her daughter. She had succeeded in hiding her daughter in plain sight.

"I don't know how I missed seeing how pretty ye are, even covered up as ye were," he said.

Without thinking, he brushed the back of his fingers against Ilysa's cheek. He was unprepared for the jagged bolt of lust that tore through him, making him want her so badly that his hand shook. In his mind, he was already carrying her to the bed and stripping off her nightgown. This time, he would savor every inch of her and make it last. He would rein in this tumultuous need until she was gasping his name and...

"It will never happen again," he said and got abruptly to his feet. Cool air hit his chest where she had been leaning against him. His arms felt empty. "I just needed to know that ye were all right."

When Ilysa looked up at him, he saw a dangerous longing in her eyes and knew she would let him stay. Temptation dug its talons into him. One word, one touch, and she could be his.

"Ye mean a great deal to me," he said. "I don't want to hurt ye."

He made himself go to the door. As he closed it behind him, Connor was certain he was doing the right thing for her. And yet, it did not feel right - and he had never regretted anything more.

* * *

It had been two nights since Connor had come to her chamber. Though Ilysa knew he would not come again, she lay awake listening for his knock. She finally gave up on sleep, wrapped a plaid around her shoulders, and went to her window to stare out into the night.

Her attention was caught by a movement in the courtyard. It was probably just one of the men assigned night guard duty, but the way the man skirted the edge of the courtyard as if he did not want to be seen, looked suspicious. When the moonlight caught his fair hair, she knew who it was.

Where was Lachlan going this time of night? He was always disappearing. This time, she intended to find out why.

She ran down the stairs and crossed the hall on quiet feet amid the snoring men. After slipping through the outer door, she stood at the top of the steps of the keep searching the dark for him. He was skulking next to the wall, halfway to the gate. Holding her nightshift up with one hand and her plaid around her shoulders with the other, she raced across the courtyard.

Just as she caught up to him, he spun around.

"By the saints, Ilysa!" Lachlan said in a harsh whisper and put his dirk away. "Ye don't sneak up on a warrior in the dark. What in the hell are ye doing out here?"

"You're the one sneaking about," Ilysa whispered back. "Where are ye going?"

"Nowhere," he said, leaning close and keeping his voice low. "I just came in, not that it's any of your business."

"Then where have ye been?" she asked. "If ye won't tell me, perhaps you'll be willing to tell the chieftain."

She could feel Lachlan's eyes boring holes into her through the darkness as the silence stretched between them.

"If ye can keep a secret," he said at last, "I have a confession to make."

"So long as it doesn't endanger anyone else, I'll keep your secret," she promised. "I've been waiting for ye to tell me what it is from the first day."

Lachlan glanced about, she assumed to make sure that none of the guards on the wall was close enough to overhear.

"You were right about Connor," Lachlan said. "He is a man worth serving."

Ilysa's shoulders relaxed. All along she had felt that Lachlan was good at his core and hoped his attitude toward Connor would change. But since he had not said anything yet that could be deemed a confession, she waited for the rest.

"You were right about me, too," he said. "I was a threat to him."

She touched his arm. "What have ye done, Lachlan?"

"'Tis best ye don't know," he said. "But ye can trust me to mind Connor's back from now on."

She believed him. "I'm glad."

"There is someone in the castle ye can't trust, someone who is spying for Hugh Dubh," he said. "I'm trying to find out who it is."

* * *

Connor awoke in a sweat with a throbbing erection. Ilysa haunted his dreams, robbing him of his sleep and peace of mind. Despite his efforts to overcome his desire for her, he wanted to touch every inch of her bare skin, to see her naked above him, and to feel the friction of her breasts against his chest. Most of all, he longed to be inside her and hear her soft moans of pleasure in his ear.

He gave up on sleep and went to his window. From habit, he looked for the outline of the guards on the wall to be sure none were asleep. They weren't. Before turning away, he glanced around the courtyard. He started when he saw Ilysa in the far corner with a man. What was she doing outside in the middle of the night?

And who in the hell is she with?

In the moonlight, he could not be absolutely certain who the man was. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and fair-haired. The only man who came to mind was Lachlan of Lealt.

Jealousy, like an ugly green sea monster from the deep, sank its teeth into him and pulled him under. What is she doing with Lachlan? The question blazed in his head. No woman had ever aroused jealousy in him before, but the feeling was as unmistakable as it was unfamiliar.

Connor had no right to object if Ilysa turned her attentions to another man. Bedding her once had been a mistake that could never happen again. She was not his and could not be. More, it was his duty to find a man to look after her. Lachlan would make a good husband, if a lass did not require much conversation. He had both the courage and the fighting skills to protect a wife and family. In truth, Connor could think of no better choice for Ilysa than Lachlan of Lealt.

And yet, the thought of Lachlan touching her sent murder roiling through his veins.