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When he left Moira, Niall decided to abandon his plan to go hunting. The weather was closing in, and it promised to be an afternoon of torrential rain and gale force winds. Sadly, this kind of weather was all too common in the Highlands, and Niall wished that his lovely witch, Moira, could wave her magic wand and make it disappear.

He laughed inwardly at the thought of the name he had given her. Little witch, or, because they were Scottish, Wee Witch.

As well as the weather, however, there was one more reason he wanted to stay in the castle. He needed to think. He needed to piece together the parts of Moira’s story that he knew and see if he could put together a whole picture because not knowing was driving him mad.

It was too early for wine, so he had his manservant bring him warm ale and oatcakes, then summoned Finn to his office. While he was waiting, he began to stride restlessly back and forward across the room, his mind full of images of Moira.

He saw her face again as her climax hit her and heard the heartrending cry she had given. It resounded in his ears as he paced, and although he had only said goodbye to her a short while before, he wanted her again.

I will never get enough of her, Niall thought. He sighed as he leaned his head on the mantelpiece and stared into the fire in the grate. Nothing will be right without Moira, and I can never love another woman, even if I’m forced to marry her. There is no space in my heart for anyone else.

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Finn stepped in, removing his helmet as he did so. He was already soaking wet from the rain that had begun to lash down outside, and looked grumpy and irritated.

“Ye wanted tae see me?” he asked.

Niall nodded at him, frowning, and beckoned him over to a seat by the fire where he could warm up and dry off his clothes. He handed Finn a cup of ale and offered him some oatcakes, and then they sat down.

Finn looked at Niall quizzically and waited in silence for him to say something. He had never known his friend to be so quiet—it was extremely unusual.

Niall sipped his ale, still wearing his brooding frown, and when he finally looked up at Finn, he said, “I need your help, Finn.”

“Tell me what ye need an’ ye shall have it,” Finn said without hesitation. “I cannae think o’ anythin’ I widnae dae for ye.”

Niall looked at his friend and smiled. Finn had been a loyal friend since Niall’s boyhood and had never let him down once. Now that Niall had a problem to solve, Finn was his first port of call, since he was utterly reliable. However, this was a favour unlike any other he had ever asked for, and now, as he looked at his friend, he was struggling to find the right words to say.

“I need you to find some information for me,” Niall told him.

“What kind o’ information?” Finn’s brow furrowed in irritation. “Spit it out, man, I havenae got a’ day!” He picked up his ale and took a great swig, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand and glared at his laird.

Niall laughed. Finn was the only person in Baltyre who could speak to him like this with impunity, and he knew it. “I want you to find out if there is anyone around here who is looking for a runaway fiancé,” he replied. “I know it sounds crazy, Finn, but I have to find out if anyone is hunting for Moira.”

“Have ye asked her?” Finn’s voice suggested that he thought Niall was being stupid by not doing so already.

“What do you think?” Niall asked angrily. “A hundred times over. Every time I ask her for his name, she puts up a ten feet wall of silence around herself.” He jumped to his feet and began to pace again. “She is suffering, Finn, and I cannot bear to see it any more. I have to stop it somehow.”

“I see,” Finn said thoughtfully. “An’ why does that concern ye, Niall? I have seen the way she looks at ye an’ I can guess how ye feel about her, but remember ye are betrothed tae somebody else. Have ye thought o’ a’ the trouble it will cause if ye back out o’ your marriage now?”

Niall grunted, then nodded and went over to the window to look out at the brewing storm. “I’ve thought of nothing else,” he replied, then turned back to face Finn. “But I need Moira here with me where I can protect her.”

Finn stood up, then walked over to Niall to put his hands on his shoulders. He looked deep into Niall’s eyes and said, “I have never seen ye like this before, man. Dae ye really love her so much?”

“With all my heart, Finn,” he replied with a heavy sigh. “And it would break my heart to lose her.”

Finn studied his friend’s face closely. He could see the pain in his eyes and understood it, having lost his own beloved once, years before. He nodded slowly. “But what about your bride, Niall?” he asked. “This will put a cat among the pigeons—nae doubt about it. The Maxwells are no’ a family tae be trifled wi’.”

Niall sighed irritably. “I know, Finn,” he agreed. “But I will think of some solution, there must be something I can do.”

“Dae ye no’ think ye would have thought o’ it by now if there was?” Finn asked. He was truly worried about his friend, and hated to see him so angry and distressed. He carried the weight of the whole estate on his shoulders, and Finn worried that it was all becoming too much for him.

“Perhaps I wasn’t as desperate before I knew I loved her,” Niall replied.

Finn nodded slowly and turned away to sit by the fire again. “I hope ye know what ye’re daein’, man,” he said. “This could a’ go wrong, ye know.”

“But it won’t,” Niall replied. “Not in your capable hands, Finn. I trust you.”

Finn finished his ale, staring into the fire thoughtfully for a moment. “I will dae as ye ask, Niall, as ye knew I would, but are ye sure?”

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” Niall replied firmly.

“Then I will dae what ye ask o’ me,” Finn told him. “But if ye change your mind?—”

“Then I will send for you,” Niall assured him.

Finn gave him a searching look, nodded once, then left.

Niall sat down and put his head in his hands, trying to focus his mind on something else; his work, his horses, the tenants’ problems, but the only problem he could concentrate on was Moira’s situation.

Am I being a fool? he thought desperately. Beitris might be a lovely woman and I may be making the biggest mistake of my life.

He went back to the window again and looked down at the surrounding land. He saw clumps of dark pines, emerald green grass on which sheep and their new lambs were grazing, and in the distance, Loch Begg, where Moira had almost met a tragic end. He shuddered at the thought of that terrible night.

It always amazed, and in some ways terrified him, that all this belonged to him. As a boy, he had known that he would be responsible for it all one day, but the reality of it had not hit him till his father died, leaving him to cope on his own. Well, not entirely because he had a capable steward.

Yet, he needed something—or someone more. He needed a woman to stand by his side and give him the love and support he was so sorely lacking, someone to listen to him, advise him, and comfort him in times of trouble. Could that woman be Beitris?

Then he laughed aloud. No. It could not be anyone else but Moira, the woman he needed as much as he needed the air that he breathed, and he needed her more than ever right at that moment.

Two minds were thinking about each other at that moment. Moira was lying on her bed, going over her two passionate encounters with Niall. They had been heavenly, but if she stayed with him, would they always be like that, or would their relationship become stale and tedious?

It was not worth thinking about, Moira decided. It would never happen. She had given her maid servant the day off so that she could pack her things in her small bag and take a look around the castle one more time before she left. This time, she was determined that Niall would not persuade her to stay, but a lingering doubt still persisted at the back of her mind. Would he imprison her to keep her at Baltyre?

At once, she dismissed the thought. Both she and Niall knew what it was like to be abused, and he was not likely to inflict that pain on her.

Moira turned to answer the door to her chamber as a loud knock sounded on the door. She smiled, since there was only one person who knocked as firmly as that! She opened the door, and was immediately enveloped in Niall’s arms and pulled into a tight embrace.

“Back again, Niall?” Moira asked, laughing.

He put her away to look into her eyes, but he was not smiling. “I cannot get enough of you,” he told her.

Moira moved out of his arms and walked to the window. “There is nothing I would like more, than to stay here,” she answered sadly. “I want to be in the Highlands. After all, it is my home. I know nowhere else, but it cannot be.”

“Yes it can,” Niall moved over to kiss her, once more wrapping his strong arms around her. He kissed her lips softly.“Stay with me,” he ordered. “I will make you so happy, Moira.” He kissed her again. “We will be so happy together.” He kissed her again, then she gently pushed him away.

“Would that not be wonderful?” Moira’s tone was wistful as she looked at him longingly. “We agreed to enjoy each other for a while, but I would love it to be forever. I can imagine children running about here getting into mischief and driving us both mad! Long days down by the loch fishing and bringing home trout for dinner, making love for hours… but this is nothing but a beautiful dream, Niall. What will I do when your bride comes? Pretend to be a maid servant? Glennie’s best friend? No, this can never happen, but not because I don’t care about you. I do.”

Niall leaned his forehead against Moira’s, then said softly, “If we have such a short time to enjoy ourselves, perhaps we should start now.”

Moira pretended to be shocked. “We have already ‘enjoyed ourselves’ twice today!” she exclaimed.

“Are you saying no?” Niall asked, feigning disappointment.

“Definitely not!” Moira replied, giggling. “We have no time to waste!”

Niall laughed and swept her off her feet, then deposited her on the bed and looked down at her as he knelt above her, feasting his eyes on the beautiful woman who was sure she would never be his. But there was still time. Perhaps he could change her mind because once on a mission, he was never one to back down.

Niall unbuttoned Moira’s dress and pulled up her chemise, kissed her softly on the lips then all the way to her navel, at the same time nibbling her flesh lightly so that the pleasure mixed with a tiny nip of pain shot straight to her core. She had never felt anything so wonderful, and arched her hips off the bed, clamping her lips together to stop herself from screaming.

Moira was wet and aching with pleasure as Niall parted her thighs, using his thumbs to open the folds of her womanhood to his gaze. He looked his fill for a moment, then smiled at her, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Moira nodded frantically, unable to speak. She was throbbing and pulsing, and when she felt Niall’s tongue sweeping through her folds, she gripped fistfuls of his hair to keep herself anchored to the earth.

When Niall began to nibble and tease her nub with his teeth and tongue, Moira cried out, but Niall silenced her by briefly moving to her lips and giving her a searing kiss. Then he returned to pleasuring her most sensitive spot, listening with satisfaction as her moans and cries grew louder.

Presently Moira reached her peak, and as ecstasy spread from her core to every nerve end in her body, she screamed, “Niall,” while she shuddered and clung to him until the last spark of pleasure died out.

When Moira opened her eyes, she found Niall’s green eyes gazing into hers, shining with love. He laid his head on her shoulder and sighed. He was hard and eager, but this moment was all about Moira, not him. He would take care of himself later when he was alone.

Then Moira said, “It doesn’t seem fair that I had all the pleasure, and you had none.”

Niall laughed softly. “Oh, but I did,” he replied. “I had the satisfaction of making you come and seeing your face afterwards. That is pleasure in itself, Moira.”

Moira caressed his cheek. He had been too busy to shave that morning, and she loved the rasp of his growing whiskers under her palms. If she had not been so thoroughly sated, she would have dragged him back to bed and begged him to touch her again.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she replied. “I want to give you what you gave me.”

Niall raised his eyebrows in surprise. “It would be my pleasure.”

She flipped up his kilt and was once more astounded by the size of him, now lying stiff and hard against his stomach. Moira wondered briefly if it would fit in her mouth, but she could only try.

She grasped him in one hand and gently pumped up and down, stretching the soft skin over his hard inner core. A little bead of moisture appeared from the tiny hole at the tip of his shaft, and she licked it off, causing Niall to twitch and writhe.

“You are killing me,” he groaned.

“Shall I stop?” Moira asked with mock anxiousness. “I would hate to hurt you.”

For an answer, Niall took her hand and wrapped it more tightly around himself. “No,” he growled. “You’ll kill me if you stop.”

“So I will kill you either way?” Her voice was mischievous as she concentrated on her task again.

Moira pumped him with her hand for a few more moments, then, greatly daring, took him in her mouth. He was so big that he filled her completely, and for a few seconds she almost panicked, fearing he would choke her.

Then Niall, unable to wait any longer, pushed the back of Moira’s head and arched his hips to ease himself further into her mouth. Gradually she acquired the rhythm and began to enjoy his moans and grunts as she brought him closer to completion.

Niall could not remember the last time a woman had done this to him. Except for making love, it was his favourite form of stimulation, and to have the woman he loved and pleasure him this way was glorious. He held back for as long as he could before crying out as his climax hit him, and he exploded, pulling out of Moira’s mouth just before he spilled his seed.

Moira was rather proud of herself as she looked at the expression on Niall's face. He looked as though he had been thoroughly loved, as indeed he had been, and he beamed at her as he drew her into his arms.

“That was wonderful,” he said huskily.

“I am so glad you enjoyed it,” she replied. “I have never done that before.”

“I would never have guessed,” Niall replied. “I thought you were an expert.”

They laughed together, then laid in each other’s arms for a while before they heard the sound of a number of carriages, their wheels rattling loudly on the cobblestones as they entered the castle.

Niall stood up and looked out of the window, and his face fell. Gerald was helping a woman out of a carriage, which bore the Maxwell crest on the door. He felt a stab of dislike as he saw the satisfied expression on his face, then his heart sank.

“Beitris,” he said, groaning. “Oh, god. Why now?”