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I t had been a week since Jocelyn had injured her ankle. She could finally put light pressure on it and was able to get around on her own for the most part. Gunn was glad. She was beginning to resemble a caged animal, ready to burst through her confinement at the slightest chance.

“Ye certain ye’ll be fine with me away?” he asked for the hundredth time that morning. He and his friends were going to spend some time letting off steam with whisky and boxing.

“I’ll be fine. I believe the girls and I are going to get lost in a competitive game of bridge.” She smiled, trying to placate him of his guilt for leaving her.

“If ye need aught…”

“I won’t. Go. Have fun. Just go easy on the others,” she teased.

He captured her mouth in a kiss. Savoring her taste. “I want more of that later,” he stated, and left her in the drawing room, her laughter following him out the door.

The five men made their way into the town, deciding to get away from Leyson for the day. To see and talk with some of their friends that they hadn’t conversed with in some time.

“Drinks first, then boxing,” Alexander announced.

“Aye,” Nicholas said dryly. “That way we can all be pissed when Gunn punches us to oblivion.”

He chuckled, “I would ne’er.”

“Dinna deny it. We’ve seen ye this week. Lots of,” Malcolm paused for dramatic effect, “frustration ye need to work out. Might as well be in the ring.”

They were all laughing as they entered one of the gentleman clubs they’d frequented often. Choosing a table in the corner, they took their seats. Gunn signaled for a server. “Five glasses, and a bottle of whisky, please.”

The young lass curtsied and hurried off to fulfill their order.

He scanned the room. It was quite busy, a lot of the tables filled. He waved to a few familiar faces. An unfamiliar couple of men sat at one of the tables, heads together as they discussed whatever it was they talked about. Probably business, by their clipped tones.

Three single men sat at the bar. He didn’t recognize any of them, and they stuck to themselves. Quietly drinking, ignoring everyone else in the pub.

Their drinks arrived and they cheered their thank yous as the server set their glasses on the table with a clank and then poured them each a serving of whisky, leaving the half empty bottle on the table when she left.

Holding up their glasses, they all called out slaintè , and took a long pull of whisky.

The men at the bar turned to them to see what all the ruckus was about but quickly turned back to their own glasses.

“Willamina looks like she is going to have the bairn any day now, Finlay. Any hour, actually,” Alexander said.

Finlay sighed. “Aye. I’ve made peace with the knowledge that she will give birth here, rather than at home.”

“Ye ken ye are welcome to stay at Leyson as long as ye need.”

“Thanks, brother,” Finlay said, lifting his glass and emptying it in one long pull.

Every once in a while, Gunn felt like he was being watched, but whenever he looked up and scanned the crowd, no one was paying attention to him. He chalked it up to the whisky and pushed it to the back of his mind.

After they’d finished their second bottle of whisky, they stood, and Gunn approached the bar; two of the three men sitting there previously remained. He settled the bill, and they left, making their way to the fighting club.

They secured one of the rings, and as they wrapped their hands and knuckles to prepare, jested each other incessantly.

The next three hours were spent taking turns with one another in the ring, whilst the others cheered them on from the side.

“Hey, watch the face,” Alexander called, dodging a right hook that Nicholas swung. “’Tis been years. Ye canna still be mad that I married your sister. She’s well cared for.” He jabbed at Nicholas, catching him in the shoulder.

Nicholas swung, caught him on the chin. Alexander grunted and hopped back. “Your sister willna be happy if I arrive home bruised.”

“Ye talk too much. Mayhap Gunn can break your jaw, like he did Theodore, and save us all from your incessant yammering.”

“That was uncalled for,” Alexander grumbled.

The two of them kept at it for another quarter of an hour before they jumped out of the ring, exhausted, breathing heavily, but otherwise unscathed.

This has been a fun day. We needed this,” Finlay announced. “’Tis been too long. We need to make it more of a habit.”

“Agreed, ’tis been hard with all that has happened,” Malcolm said. “Mayhap if ye stop getting your wives with bairns ’twould be easier.”

“Or,” Alexander drawled, “ye and Lizzie can start a family and join in the shenanigans of fatherhood.”

Malcolm sighed. “We’re trying. Lizzie is keeping a strong face, but she’s upset that she hasna conceived yet.”

Nicholas clapped him on the shoulder. “Give it time. ’Twill happen when the timing is right.”

Malcolm nodded, but Gunn could see the flash of pain that flickered across his face.

“Well, gentlemen. This has been fun, but I think we should make our way back home to our better halves,” Gunn said. What he really wanted to say was their wives, but of course, Jocelyn wasn’t his wife yet.

Yet.

She would be.

Hopefully soon.

*

When the ladies called for tea, Jocelyn excused herself. She was tired and wanted to lie down for a bit.

“Are ye sure?” Lizzie asked, concern furrowing her brows.

“Yes, I fear I haven’t been sleeping much at night and it has caught up with me. I will take a nap and be back down.”

She hopped away as the women guffawed behind her.

It seemed to take her forever to get to the house. She could put some weight on her foot, but not her full weight so she needed to make her way slowly over the uneven landscape to the castle.

Inside the door, she leaned on the frame, catching her breath. A movement behind her caught her attention and she turned to see her worst nightmare.

Victor stood there, a sneer slashing his face, his dark eyes almost black as he advanced.

“Y-y-you are not welcome here.”

“Well, lucky for you I am not here for a visit, Jocelyn. I am here to collect my wayward wife.”

Her eyes darted around the space. He was blocking the door that led outside. She wouldn’t be able to push past him if she tried. Her injured foot would be a deterrent.

Spinning, she moved toward a door that she hadn’t seen used since she’d arrived. Mayhap it would lead her outside.

Ignoring the pain in her ankle, she ran to the door and pulled it open, but as she tried to tug it closed behind her, Victor was there, pulling it open. Leaving it, she moved into the small platform and the stairs that disappeared into the inky darkness below. She had no choice.

As she clung to the wooden railing to assist her down the stairs, she felt Victor’s hands on her back, pushing her forward.

She held onto the railing for dear life. If she let go, she’d go tumbling down and injure herself even more.

“Stop pushing me,” she cried. Finally, she reached the bottom, but the space was only an empty stone room. Her breath was coming in short spurts. Victor would kill her down here.

There was another door, and he swung it open, shoving her inside.

Grabbing her shoulders, he pushed her hard against the stone wall, and she knocked her head against it.

The space was dark, and she couldn’t see, but she could feel the anger roiling off of Victor in violent waves.

“You left me. Do you know how long it took me to finally track you down?” he asked, spittle spraying her face.

A tear slipped down her cheek. She really thought she had run far enough that he would never find her.

She should have known better.

“Do you?” he shouted when she didn’t answer.

The sting of his hand slapping her cheek made her cry out.

Grasping a handful of her hair, he pulled her down to the ground roughly. “You shouldn’t have run,” he ground out in her ear.

She tried to remove his fist from her hair, but he wouldn’t relent. Her scalp stung from the pull.

“You thought you could leave me?” he snapped close to her face; she could feel his breath on her skin. The next slap should have been expected, but it still took Jocelyn by surprise and she cried out.

“Shut up!” he screamed as he took his anger out on her and she could do nothing but put her arms up in defense.

Noise from upstairs stopped Victor’s assault and he covered her mouth with his hand.

“Do not say a word or I will slice your throat right now.” To emphasize his statement, he pressed something to her neck.

She froze as the cold metal met her skin.

She had no doubt that he would fulfill his promise.

Silent tears flowed down her cheeks. What had she done?

*

The men left the fighting club and called for their carriage to take them home to Leyson. It was one of Gunn’s larger carriages, but with the size of the men, they were forced to squeeze together. But it was better than arriving separately and missing out on all the conversation.

At Leyson, they piled out of the carriage and loudly made their way inside.

Outside, the women were in the garden having tea.

Except Joss. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Jocelyn?” he asked, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

“Inside,” Lizzie said. “I believe she’s resting. We didna want to wake her.”

His brows furrowed. “How long has it been since ye’ve seen her?”

The women looked at each other, shrugging, murmuring.

“A half hour,” Gwen said. “Mayhap an hour at the verra most.”

Gunn rushed into the house. He didn’t ken what it was, couldn’t put his finger on it, but something didn’t feel right.

They all followed him inside. He took the stairs two at a time, running down the hall to his room.

Empty.

He pushed open Joss’s door. But he kenned it would be empty as well. She never spent any time in this room anymore.

“She’s not here,” he called out.

They spread out, half inside, half outside, methodically making their way through the house, floor by floor. Outside they checked the gardens, the shore, the outbuildings.

Meeting back in the house, his friends all shook their heads.