Joseph was waiting for them, crouching near a cook fire and turning something over the flames, his back to them, the scent of roasting meat making Amalie’s mouth water. Without looking over his shoulder, he spoke to Morgan, and Morgan answered, both of them using words Amalie didn’t understand.It had been a long day and hard. Though she missed Morgan’s men—she’d grown fond of them and enjoyed their teasing banter—she’d been grateful for the slower pace. Morgan had helped her when she’d needed it, offering her his hand when the ground became steep or rocky, catching her when she stumbled, carrying her through deep marshes. And as she’d watched him pick a safe path for her, he’d seemed both alert to danger and utterly at ease in the wildness of the forest. And she’d realized that she was seeing him for the first time as he truly was—not just the gentleman and soldier she’d known at the fort, but Morgan MacKinnon, the Ranger of legend.She glanced about and saw that they stood in the midst of a small clearing not far from a little river.
