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E ileen Kilmartin crouched low behind the stack of barrels, her breath caught in her throat as the rough voice rang through the shadowed alley.

“Who’s there?”

A man’s silhouette shifted just beyond the crates, his voice taut with suspicion and laced with the kind of violence that begged for an excuse.

Eileen clutched Piper tightly against her side, one hand clamped over the maid’s mouth. Piper trembled beside her, her eyes wide with shared fear, but she didn’t make a sound.

The torchlight flickered from the doorway, casting ghostly shapes on the rough stone walls of the abandoned barn they’d ducked into only moments ago.

Saints preserve us . What have I done?

They hadn’t meant to end up there. On the road to the nearest village near MacLennan lands, Eileen had insisted on taking a lesser-used path to avoid passing guards or anyone who might recognize them.

She’d led Piper down the wrong lane in the hope of a shortcut, only to stumble upon something far more dangerous than muddy boots.

Two men—cloaked and hunched, their arms laden with crates bearing unfamiliar markings—had met under the cover of night. From her place in the shadows, Eileen had seen the unmistakable glint of steel, the dull gleam of silver coins changing hands, and the tension in the air that smelled of danger.

Smugglers. And we just walked right into it…

The man outside the barn took another step forward, hay crunching beneath his boots. Piper’s breath hitched under her hand, and Eileen could feel the rapid beat of her maid’s heart matching her own. The sounds were too loud, too revealing.

Eileen’s heart thundered, her mind racing. They couldn’t be caught. If they were found spying, they’d be killed.

Or worse.

She swallowed hard, squeezed Piper’s arm, and then pointed silently toward a small opening in the back wall of the barn. It was barely big enough to crawl through, but it would do.

They moved like ghosts, silent and surefooted. Eileen helped Piper through the narrow hole first, then followed on hands and knees, her cloak catching on a nail with a sharp rip. She winced but didn’t stop.

Scratched and breathless, they stumbled into the cold night, the barn shrinking behind them as they ran.

They didn’t stop until the barn was far behind and only the night wind and their pounding hearts remained.

The two women walked in silence for nearly half an hour, the moon overhead casting pale light on the dirt road. Eileen’s legs ached, her lungs burned, but she pushed forward, her mind still whirring.

Only when the distant glow of the village lights broke the horizon did they dare to breathe.

Piper was the first to speak, her voice sharp and breathless. “Ye have lost yer mind, Me Lady,” she scolded. “Truly. Dressed like a lad, runnin’ off into the dark like a thief—yer braither will have me hide for lettin’ ye do this.”

Eileen rubbed her arms, the chill finally settling in now that the thrill wore off. “He willnae kill ye, Piper. And if he tries, I’ll stand in his path. He wouldnae cut down his own sister.”

She chuckled to herself.

Her eldest brother, Thomas, was Laird McFair, and the nicest human she’d ever met. Sure, he ruled the clan with a firm fist, but he was always kind. Piper’s exaggeration was quite that, an exaggeration. If anything, the maid’s reaction aligned with the previous house she served. The O’Gunns.

Lachlan Baird, Laird of Clan O’Gunn—and Eileen’s most outspoken suitor. The man was hell-bent on marrying her, by force if necessary. Anything to become even more powerful than he currently was. All of Scotland knew him for being an absolute brute.

An alliance of the most traditional kind , he had called it in his letter to Thomas. The madman of the North. Ruthless, erratic, powerful?—

Piper huffed, her curls wild in the moonlight. “Och, he’s the Laird now, lass. Buried in maps and correspondence, with the O’Gunns breathin’ down his neck. He’ll boil with fury when he finds out ye are gone.”

Since receiving that letter from Lachlan Baird, Thomas had moved with a purposeful sort of urgency. Even after Reid declared he would ride to MacLennan lands to find out more about the O’Gunns’ position.

Eileen’s jaw tightened. “Then let him boil.”

“Ye say that now, but when he sends half the guard to drag ye home by yer ear, I’ll be the one gettin’ glared at for lettin’ it happen. Why did ye do it, lass? Why are we here?”

Eileen sighed and glanced over at Piper as they walked.

“It was a few days after Reid left,” she said, her voice quieter now, thoughtful. “Every hour passed with nay word, and I just… I couldnae sit idle any longer.”

Piper clutched her cloak tighter around her but remained silent.

“Thomas may nae see it, but Reid needs protection just as much as the rest of us. He may be grown, but he’s still young.”

“Ye think I dinnae ken that? But what I dinnae ken is how ridin’ after him—dressed as a lad, nay less—will help him.”

“Because if he is in trouble out here, then nay one else is watchin’ his back,” Eileen replied, steel rising in her tone. “Thomas should have sent a man behind him. Or a scout at the very least. But he didnae. Said Reid could handle himself.”

Piper scoffed. “Master Reid can handle the whole bloody world if he has to, Me Lady.”

“But that doesnae mean he should have to. Nae alone.”

“Aye, I reckon’ ye are right.”

“That’s why I’m here, Piper. If Thomas willnae act, then I will.”

“And did ye think about tellin’ me before ye just up and vanished from the keep like a wisp in the wind?” the maid asked, giving her a look. “I had to trail ye like a bloodhound.”

Eileen gave a small smile. “And how exactly did ye find me?”

“It’s nae like ye had any training in coverin’ yer tracks, lass. Lady O’Gunn forced all of the servants to learn basic tracking skills so?—”

Eileen knew what Piper was going to say; the rumors had already made their way to her ears before Piper was even hired.

The O’Gunns’ servants were trained to track in the event a prisoner or captive escaped.

Everyone was expected to aid in the search, especially if they had been specifically tasked with watchin’ the escapee.

It was either their head or the captive’s.

Piper was a maid to Alba Kilmartin until she started caring for Eileen. She had come to McFair Castle following a trade deal that Eileen’s late father, Tavish Kilmartin, and the former Laird O’Gunn had made.

Tavish had recounted that Piper was clearly being mistreated and how he would not stand for it. Piper had been with the McFairs ever since.

“I ken, Piper. Sorry for bringin’ it up,” Eileen said quickly. “Anyway, I figured ye would try to talk me out of it.”

“Of course, I would! This is madness. And breeches! Ye actually put breeches on. I nearly fainted.”

“They’re surprisingly comfortable,” Eileen admitted, stifling a grin.

“Yer maither would scream herself hoarse if she saw ye like this.”

“Aye, and Thomas would lock me in the tower if he could find me,” Eileen muttered. They walked on a moment more before she added, her voice softer now, “But truly, Piper. Thank ye. For followin’ me.”

“Och! I didnae follow ye. I chased ye to talk ye out of this, but clearly, I failed. So, here I am.”

Eileen stifled another chuckle as Piper rolled her eyes, and the two women made their way through the woods.

They stepped into the village square, stone buildings nestled close, windows aglow with firelight. It smelled of peat smoke, roasted meat, and ale. A dog barked in the distance, and somewhere a door slammed shut. The world felt real again, grounded.

Eileen paused, glancing at Piper. “Go to the inn. Get us a room for the night—tucked away if ye can. I’ll head to the tavern. See what I can find out.”

Piper blinked, stunned. “Ye will go in there alone?”

“Obviously, Piper. Now, go. I’ll catch up.”

Eileen didn’t wait for the maid’s reply. She stepped into the tavern, pushing open the heavy door.

Heat and laughter spilled into the street, mingling with the clatter of mugs and the wail of a fiddle. The warm glow hit her face, making her squint after the cold outside.

The room was packed—with men. Locals and wanderers alike. Most wore travel-stained cloaks, their faces half-hidden in shadow. The stench of sweat and spilled ale clung to every surface. No one spared her more than a glance.

Her heart settled, for now. They believed her to be a boy. Good.

She approached the bar, her voice firm despite her rising nerves. “Ale.”

The barkeep poured without question, the mug thudding against the wood. Eileen kept her hood low, her ears strained as she turned toward the room. Her gaze scanned every face, every corner.

No mention of Reid. No MacLennan crests. Nothing but the ever-present hum of drunken laughter.

Then, without warning, a heavy arm landed across her shoulders.

“Och, lighten up, lad,” slurred a voice near her ear. “Ye look like a funeral in trousers.”

Eileen froze. The man reeked of ale and sweat, his hand hot against her cloak. Her instinct screamed to shove him off, to pull her dagger, but she didn’t dare make a scene.

Before she could decide what to do, another voice cut in, smoother, lower, and deadly calm.

“Let the lad be, Calum. Nay man wants to be accosted by a drunkard when they’ve been travelin’ all day.

We dinnae need yer boorish behavior to be the first thing anyone who crosses into our lands to experience, or they’ll cross back over and never return.

Ye’re doin’ a fine job of proppin’ up this tavern, but a wee bit more coin wouldnae go amiss. ”

“Aye, aye, ye’re right as always,” came the withered reply. The arm fell away, and Calum slinked off.

Eileen turned to see a man towering beside her. Tall and broad-shouldered, with raven-black hair and piercing green eyes that seemed to see straight through her. She stared into his eyes, becoming lost in them for a moment before averting her gaze, lest he get the wrong idea.