She tried to sit up, but the arms tightened. In low, calming tones, the Scotsman said, “You’re safe. I’ll not harm you.” “Not harm me?” That brought her fully alert. “Why would you even say that? Who are you? Where are we?” She winced as pain shot through her temple. “You’ve bumped your head.” “With what, a ten-pound hammer?” She tenderly touched her head to assess the damage. Fire lit the rough ceiling and walls of what looked like a cave—a cave barely large enough for the two of them. She was nestled in the man’s lap. Mac’s situation did not look good. She was trapped in a cave with a large, rugged man. How she got there, she couldn’t recall. He’d probably clubbed her over the head and dragged her there by her hair. But where was there? Past the fire, rough-hewn stones framed the falling snow. “The stone chamber,”
