When she awoke in the morning, Ciarán was gone. Hamish and Fergus were eating.
Fergus handed her a cup. “Hurry and break your fast. We’ll be leaving soon.”
As she sat down on her tartan to eat, Mac eyed the watery porridge with suspicion. “On the bright side, there’s no way I won’t lose a pound or two while I’m here.”
Hamish and Fergus started saddling their horses. Ciarán’s horse was there, but there was still no sign of Ciarán. Fergus glanced over, which she took as a sign that they were waiting for her, but with limited patience. She gulped the last bit of porridge and stood up. A strong hand gripped her arm and pulled her up the rest of the way to the horse.
“Make haste,” Ciarán said. “A small party from Clan Ross is headed our way.”
“Where are we going?” Mac asked as Ciarán pulle
