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turned her gaze back to Gowan. “A man would have to be full mad to sail so close to thon skerries, to fly in here so fast.”
    A slow, men-aye-stick-together smile curved Gowan’s mouth. “MacDonnell doesnae look worried.”
    “You’d think he’d have made for the site we used.” Gillian tilted her head and considered her eldest brother. “Surely he’ll have cargo?” She glanced down the shore, to the steep and winding track to the keep on its jutting promontory. “It’ll be hard carrying goods up the cliff path. Can it be Donell has grown addled? How can he have forgotten the easier ascent on the other side of the isle?”
    “Could be he’s eager to arrive.” Gowan defended him, just as she’d expected. “Rounding the island would take longer and mean sailing through the worst skerries. We came from that direction and ken those waters well, the dangers of the submerged rocks out there.”
    “The reefs have ever been here.”
    “So they have. Like as no’ Donell wished to avoid them.”
    “This is his isle.” Gillian wouldn’t back down. “He should know these waters better than we do.”
    “Have done, lass. You’re showing claws.”
    Gillian angled her chin, challengingly. “Wouldn’t you, in my position?”
    Ignoring the look of reproach Gowan shot her, she shook back her hair, letting the wind blow the long, unruly strands about her shoulders. With any luck, she’d resemble a wild-maned, untamed fury. The kind of prickly, difficult female no man would want as a wife. Lifting her chin, she fixed her gaze on Donell, willinghim to slew about, speed off into the mist, never to be seen again.
    The longship held course.
    Gillian’s heart began to pound, a terrible instinct warning her that the man about to sweep so boldly into her life would change it forever.
    She’d have to be strong if he wasn’t to break her.
    So she hoped there was a fierce gleam in her eye, visible from the sea.
    She also drew herself up, glad for her height, and the sense of purpose that let her squelch any show of weakness. She stood as still as stone, memories of her last encounter with Donell giving her the daring to stare back at him as his gaze roamed over her.
    Even through the fanning sea spray, she could tell.
    He was assessing her, boldly and with arrogance. His perusal made her entire body flush hotly. She burned with agitation, her blood roaring in her ears. But she’d sooner grow hooves and a tail before she’d capitulate and look aside. Worse, hide behind her family.
    Traitors whose glee was scarce contained.
    Her father kept some measure of dignity, waiting a bit back from the shore. But her brothers, including Gowan, were now scrambling to join Ross on the rocks so they could observe Donell’s approach.
    Gillian was only annoyed.
    Her unwanted future bore down on her from the sea she loved so dearly, Donell’s sleek, dragon-headed longship racing ever nearer in a froth of high-splashing white water and fast-beating oar-blades.
    The craft’s wake glittered silver, a relentless arrow pointing her way.
    Any moment the ship with its great square sail and shield-hung sides would flash up onto the landing beach, coming to a swift, shuddering stop even as her own world met an equally abrupt end.
    Her long-lost betrothed was home at last.
    And she meant to greet him with all the soft, submissive charm of a hellcat.
    So why had her mouth gone so dry?
    How could her nerves fail her so badly, her palms dampen as she dug her fingers into her skirts? She didn’t know, but looking at him, there at his prow, made her shiver. And not in the way she would’ve expected.
    She turned her face into the cold, salt-laced wind, refusing to acknowledge the whirl of fluttery emotions awakening inside her.
    Donell wasn’t a man to ignite such a reaction.
    Yet…
    She narrowed her eyes, studying him. He’d grown harder, appearing almost twice the size she recalled. More than that, he’d gained a rugged appeal she would’ve