Written in 65 minutes. Sorry took an extra few minutes.

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Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw Elizabeth dart away and while he wanted to follow her—wanted to make sure she got to safety and up the highest tree—

He needed to draw their attention to him—they’d ambushed, laid in wait—they’d known Jason and his men would be here—

And they’d come for Elizabeth.

He didn’t recognize any of the men who were circling him—or the two men who were holding Francis back as the blond had regained conscious and was struggling against their hold—good, it meant Jason only had three men to deal with—

He could handle that—

“After the wench,” the leader growled at one of the other men, but before he could follow the orders, Jason lunged at him—twisting his head on his neck before the man even took a step. He heard a sickening crunch, and dropped the man to the ground.

“Who’s next?” he demanded. One of the other men grabbed a dirk from his kilt and swung it at Jason who started to reach for his own knife tucked in his boot—

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of colors flashing and a man in a kilt breaking away from Francis and darting for the trees—for Elizabeth—

And in that moment of distraction, Jason felt fire slice through his arm as the knife-wielder lunged at him. Jason flipped him over his back and barreled into the leaders, knocking him to the ground and slitting his throat.

Two down—

Just two to go.

“Who sent you?” Jason growled as the two of them circled each other warily, each of them armed. He could hear Francis taking on his captor—his eyes straining to hear Elizabeth—let her sceam for him, just he’d know she was alive—

The man didn’t answer. He hurled himself at Jason, but Jason swung out his elbow, catching the man on the side of the head, and knocking him to the ground. He planted his boot on his chest, held the knife to his thoat. “Who sent you?” he repeated.

The man laughed harshly. “Didn’t care as long as he paid.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“Capital,” the man muttered. “Edinburgh. Told us where to wait. Said you’d be here soon enough.”

Jason scowled, then finished the man off with a twist of the neck. He didn’t know anything. He turned to find Francis finishing off the last of the men.

“Where did the lass go?” Francis demanded.

Jason searched the copse of trees, looked up, desperately scanning them for any signs of her—for any sounds. “I sent her into the trees.”

“He went after her—” Francis rubbed his forehead, smearing the blood. “Johnny’s back at the horses. Might be knocked out. Might be dead. They were waiting fer us.”

“I ken.” There’d be time for that, but he wanted his wife to be safe—

Then he heard a scream that cut off abruptly. He plunged into the trees, Francis on his heels.

—

She hadn’t gone for a tree that ringed the clearing—that would have been too easy—Elizabeth had run for what felt like forever, but was probably only a matter of seconds before she found a tall skinny with branches that grew lighter as they climbed towards the sky. A tree that might bear her weight, but not one of the heavier men—

She lunged for the first branch and dragged herself, her lungs breathing fire by the time she managed the third branch.

“You little bitch—”

Startled, Elizabeth looked down—she’d made it made ten feet and one of the men had reached the base of the tree, was already lifting himself on the first branch. Something surged through her vein, and Elizabeth pushed herself higher—her scraped against a branch, and she winced something dug into her palm.

“Fookin bitch—”

Something grabbed her foot, and Elizabeth kicked out, but then her fingers slipped and she nearly fell off her branch. She clung to the bark of the tree for a minute, squeezing her eyes shut. Oh, God, Oh, God. Jason was already dead, wasn’t he? There had been five of them, and Francis had looked dead, and no way Johnny wasn’t already gone—he never would have let anything happen to Jason or Francis—

“Just come here—” the man grunted.

“No!” she bit out. She kicked again with her foot, her heel digging into his cheek bone. He grunted and fell back—

She resumed her climb — if she could just reach a branch that wouldn’t hold his weight—he’d fall and maybe he’d die. And then—then she could think.

She just had to get higher. Jason had told her to climb as high as she could. This was her fault. She hadn’t warned them—how could she have known—

Sobbing, she climbed two more branches—she was so close—so close—she’d get to the top and it would be over—she wanted it to be over—why wasn’t it done—

Then fire poured through her body and she screamed, losing the grip on the branch—she desperately reached out for something but only found air—

She was falling through the air, then was stopped so abruptly her breath was snatched from her lungs—

The man had stopped her from falling, his meaty fist wrapped around her upper arm. “I should just let you fall, but I don’t get paid if you die—”

Someone had—

Oh, God, Jason was dead, she was alone, and this nightmare was going to give her to someone. Was it just going to get worse?

“I’d rather take you with me—” she snarled, then dug her nails into his fist until he released her, howling—and she plunged down to the ground—

And hit it so hard her bones rattled and her head lolled to the side, resting in the dirt and leave, her vision blurred and weaving. She heard a grunt and thud behind her—oh, God—it hadn’t been far enough…

Her eyes drifted closed and she waited for death.

—

Jason was twenty feet away when he found the tree Elizabeth had chosen to climb and running towards it—she was dangling from the hand of one of the men—then she was falling—

And he didn’t get there in time—didn’t get here to stop it, to catch her—her small body hit the ground so hard that she nearly bounced—

And the man had fallen behind her, was already rolling over—

Jason hurled himself at the other man, not even bothing to draw it out—he broke the man’s neck cleanly and shoved him aside, crawling and scrambling across the forest floor, desperate to reach Elizabeth’s side.

Francis was already there, carefully, looking her over—

“She’s alive,” Francis said, quickly. “But I don’t—” He winced as he gently pushed her on her back, and they saw the pool of blood blossoming on her shoulder. A stab wound. “I don’t know if she’s got any broken bones—”

“Check quickly. I don’t know if anyone else was waiting. I need to get her to Braegarie.” Their healer could look after her, save her.

He pressed on her wound, hoping to stop the bleeding, and Elizabeth gasped sharply. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him. “I’m not dead?”

“No, no,” he promised her. “You’re alive. You’ll be okay. I’ll make you okay.”

“You’re not dead.”

“No.” He raised his hand to cup her cheek and her eyes bulged in horror and he realized too late that his hand was now covered in her blood.

“Blood. Blood. My fault. Always my fault—” She choked on a sob, twisting her head away fro mhim. “Johnny. Francis.”

“Francis is here, we’re okay. I don’t—we’ll find out—” He looked at Francis— “Can we move her?”

“Looks to be bumps and bruises. That wound looks nasty,” he said. “We need to get her somewhere and clean it.”

“My fault,” she moaned, then her eyes drifted closed.

Jason gathered her in his arms, wincing when she cried out— “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We have to get you home. I’ll make it okay. I’ll take care of you—”

She was unconscious by the time they’d reached the horses—and also relieved to see Johnny recovering from a bash on the head.

“What the hell—” He winced, pressing a hand to his forehead. “What happened?”

“Ambush. They were coming for Elizabeth.” Jason handed her to Francis until he could get on the horse, and then arranged her very carefully against him on the horse, making her injury had pressure on it. “Let’s go. We don’t stop until we see the keep.”

“Fuck me,” Johnny muttered, but he scrambled onto the horse, and Francis followed. They were two days out from Braegarie but they knew these hills like they back of their hands—if they weren’t stopping to spare the horses or Elizabeth, Jason could get home by dawn.

—

“What in the bloody hell is going on here?” Tracy Morgan demanded as she barreled into her nephew’s bedroom. “You came roaring into the keep like a Sassanech was chasing—” She stopped when she saw the petite form of woman stretched out on the bed, her right shoulder bared with a nasty knife wound in in the pale skin. “What is that?”

“My wife,” Jason bit out as he watched the healer, Barbara Jones, carefully clean Elizabeth’s wound. Fever had set in overnight, but he hadn’t stopped. Couldn’t stop. He’d needed to get her home. To get her to safety.

He could protect here, and when she recovered, she’d tell him why the hell those men had chased her and try to kill her. She couldn’t keep her secrets anymore—not when they threatened to take her away from him.

He wouldn’t have it.

“Your wife,” Tracy repeated. “Do I get to ask how this happened?”

“Not now, Aunt,” he retorted. “See to Johnny and Francis. They were injured, as well.” When she nodded at his bandaged arm, he scowled. “A scratch. They were unconscious.”

She squinted at him, but recognized the set of his stubborn shoulders. Just like his father. “Fine. I[ll see to them, but I’ll want answers when I come back,” she warned.

“Barbara,” Jason asked when his aunt had gone, “can you bring down the fever?”

“You know it’s not that simple,” she told him. “The fever lasts as long as the infection. If I had treated her as soon as this happened—” Barbara turned on the bed to face him. “Did you not stop to clean it?”

“We—I couldn’t take the chance. We were ambushed. I didn’t know if anyone was waiting, and I couldn’t protect her on my own.” Jason pushed down the guilt. “Barbara—”

“We’ll see. It’s not always in my hands. It’s on God now.” She bandaged the wound and drew the furs over Elizabeth’s pale skin. “We’ll clean it regularly, treat her fever and hope for the best.” She nodded at his bandage. “Did you clean yours?”

“It’s nothing worse than I’ve gotten sparring in the yard,” Jason said. “It’s fine. I’d know by now.”

“Fair enough.” Barbara set some salve on the night table. “If she’s uncomfortable, brew her willow bark tee. I’ve told the kitchens to keep it ready. And rub this every hour into the wound. I’ll find something else for her bruises.” She paused. “Unless you’d like me—”

“No,” he snapped. “I’ll see to it. She’s my wife.”

“Of course.” She got to her feet. “Jason, if you tell me it was a matter of life and death to get her here, then I believe you. You couldn’t have known—infection doesn’t always happen. Look at you—”

“I told her to run for the trees,” Jason muttered. “I should have protected her better.” He barely heard the healer leave as he sat on the bed and stared down at the pale and quiet face of a woman he hadn’t known existed three weeks ago.

And whom he wouldn’t know how to live without if this fever took her from him.

—

Her fever raged for three days and four very long nights, and on the second night, it climbed so high that Barbara told Jason to prepare for the worst. He barely slept, and he saw to none of the business of the keep.

He would stay in this room, with Elizabeth until she either won this fight — or he’d be with her, holding her when she breathed her last.

He helped Barbara bathe her in cold water that night, pouring freezing water from loch over her body, desperate to bring down the heat in her body—

On the morning of the four day, the fever broke.

Jason had barely slept, and at some point during the night, he laid down next to her, just to watch her— to drink every moment, sure that that at any moment he’d hear the rattle in her throat that had accompanied his mother’s death two winters ago.

He must have drifted off against his will because when he opened his eyes, she was looking at him, frowning slightly.

“You—” He frowned. “Elizabeth.”

“I feel strange,” she said softly, her voice rusty. “What—what happened—”

He sat up, reaching for her hand—her cool, slightly damp skin like a dream. Then Jason pressed a hand to the back of her head. “You—your fever broke.”

“Fever.” Elizabeth winced, closing her eyes. “From—I was hurt? Were…the trees. Oh.” Her eyes flew open. “I fell.”

“You did.”

“You were hurt.”

“Not as bad as you.” He kissed her palm. “And you fought back. You’re all right.”

“Johnny. Francis.”

“They’re okay. We’ve just been waiting on you.” He didn’t understand the tickle in his throat, the way his lungs were aching as he watched her try to look around the room, trying to understand what happened—why she’d woken up where she was.

She was okay. She’d made it through. She lived. He’d brought her home and now he’d keep her safe forever.

“Are—” Elizabeth tried to take a deep breath, but coughed. “Are we at your keep?”

“Yes. We’re at Braegarie,” he told her. He smoothed her hair from her forehead. “We’re home.”

“Home,” she repeated, closing her eyes again. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” He rested his brow against hers. “And I’m going to keep you safe this time. I promise.”

—

“What do you mean you haven’t asked her?” Johnny demanded four days later as he paced the solar set at the front of the keep. Jason winced as he pulled over the estate books and attempted to distract himself.

With Elizabeth still resting in their bedroom, regaining her strength, Jason had tried to distract himself with work, but he had to admit he understood Johnny’s irritation.

“I haven’t asked her,” Jason said slowly, “because she nearly died a week ago, and when she woke up—”

She’d been so happy to be at Braegarie—that Tracy seemed to be at least tolerating her—and some of the other servants had already been kindly predisposed to her because of the way Jason had looked after her personally. SHe’d also been tired and spent a lot of time sleeping.

The last thing Jason wanted to do was bring back the horror of the day—of her plunge from the trees and how close she’d come to whatever those men had planned.

But Johnny was right. He needed to find out why those men had been there. What had been so important about her that men had been paid to lay in wait for the perfect moment—what had they been planning to do to her?

Jason got to his feet. “I’ll take care of it—”

“You know that I don’t think she was involved,” Johnny said. “That I don’t suspect her that I did before. But not being part of the plan, Jason? That’s not the same thing as being ignorant. She has to know why they were there. And what if there’s more of them? Will you keep her locked up in that room forever?’

“No,” Jason said with a growl. “I said I’ll deal with it—”

“I doubt it,” Johnny tossed at him, then stalked from the solar. Jason dragged a hand through his hair, glared at the door—then strode out of it.

Johnny was right. How could Jason keep Elizabeth safe if she wasn’t honest with him?

—

It was the first day since she’d woken up that Elizabeth felt strong enough to get out of the bed, and one of the maids, a vibrant blonde who everyone called Lulu, helped her to a chair by the fireplace. It was so lovely with the fire lit—

She beamed when Jason came in that afternoon, surprised since he rarely visited during the day. He was so busy, and Lulu had said he’d taken care of her himself during the fever. He must care for her a little, and maybe if she told him the truth—if she told him what she was—

It would be okay. If he cared for—

“You’re—” Jason looked at the bed, then at her. “You’re out of bed.”

“Yes. I almost made it myself,” she told him. “Lulu helped the rest of the way, and I think I could even make it to dinner. I’d like to—”

“We need to talk,” he interrupted, and she stopped abruptly, closing her mouth. “About that day in the woods.”

“I know—”

“You told me your secret wouldn’t bring any harm to me or the clan. You’re part of my clan, Elizabeth. You can’t keep your secrets anymore.”

She’d known that—she’d been preparing to tell him the truth—but the words died on the tip of her tongue as he looked at her. The man looking back at her wasn’t the man she’d seen the morning she’d awakend, or the kind and gentle man she’d shared a bed with all those nights on the way home—

It was the man who had sat across from her in that inn Edinburgh, demanding she bare her soul when he’d done nothing but drag her through the mud.

And this man might not understand the truth.

“And if I don’t?” Elizabeth said slowly, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Will you send me back to Edinburgh?”

Jason scowled. “You need to let me protect you, Elizabeth. I can’t keep you safe if I don’t what the risks are. If I had known there was danger—you lied to me—”

“I didn’t—”

“If you won’t let me protect you by telling me the truth, then I’ll have to find another way to do it.” He lifted his chin. “You’ll have my men with you everywhere you go. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

He stared at her for another long moment, then scowled, storming out.

She closed her eyes, took deep breath. At least she had a few memories before it had all ended. Thank God she’d never told him the truth,

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