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“Come on, lads!” The voice of one of the men, presumably the ringleader, rang out gleefully above the din of horses’ hooves striking the earth and the cries of triumph from the other men. “What a beauty we have here! Get her!”

One of them stretched out and grabbed the reins of Moira’s horse, but she reached into the pocket of her dress to grab a small knife she had stashed there at the last minute before she left. She swiped it sideways and slashed the man’s hand, causing him to scream in pain. His horse reared in panic and almost collided with Moira’s, but she managed to dodge him at the last possible second.

However, in doing so, she rammed the side of another bandit’s mount. He reached over and knocked the knife out of her hand, then grabbed her hand and tried to haul her towards him. The pull was so strong that she felt as if her arm was being wrenched out of its socket. Moira felt herself slipping out of the saddle and pushed back as hard as she could, knowing that if she fell onto the ground, she was in danger of being trampled to death.

Yet however hard she tried, the man was too strong, and Moira felt herself slipping inexorably towards the earth. Then, just as she had given up hope, a shout came ringing out of the darkness and more horses rode into the fray.

Moira’s heart sank, and she let go of the reins and fell onto the ground. The last thing she remembered was the sight and sound of dozens of hooves drumming around her, making the ground shake.

She had stopped caring, though. She was going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it. She closed her eyes and rolled into a ball, then waited for the end to come.

Alerted by the screams of a woman who was obviously in great distress, Finn Morrison, Captain of the Guard at Baltyre Castle, urged his stallion into a gallop and rode with his nightly patrol towards the sound.

Just then, his Laird, Niall McPhee, came galloping up behind them and paused for a split second behind Finn’s shoulder, but when he saw the woman falling from her mount, fury flared up inside him like a raging fire.

He despised men who terrorised women, and now he plunged into the fray, causing the bandits to scatter into a disorganised mess. Niall rode a great black stallion called Logie who had a fiery temper and was now rearing up and using his great hooves to knock the bandits off their mounts.

He and Niall made a terrifying team. Niall had a very long reach and a huge broadsword which he wielded to great effect, stabbing it viciously, slashing it sideways, causing some men to fall off while trying to avoid it. There, they were either trampled by the horses or severely dealt with by the rest of the guards.

Niall drove the point of his sword into one of the bandits’ shoulders, and the man screamed, but somehow managed to ride away. Niall would have followed him, but was distracted by a blow to the back of his arm. Without thinking, he slashed his sword backwards and was rewarded by an ear-splitting scream before the bandit fell from his mount, blood spurting from his neck.

The patrol managed to capture a few of them, but most escaped, and Finn made a resolution then and there to get rid of the scourge of their terror once and for all as soon as he could.

Now, however, there was another matter to attend to, something much more urgent. The woman on the ground was moaning in pain. Niall dismounted, then instructed one of his men to tie a piece of rope above a wound on her knee as a tourniquet. After they helped her onto his horse, they proceeded to ride back to Baltyre.

The young woman had lapsed into unconsciousness and was limp and lifeless in his grasp. He could dimly see her fine features, but after the ordeal she had gone through, her clothes were torn and tattered, and she was covered from head to foot in mud.

By the time they reached the castle, he was beginning to fear she wouldn’t make it. However, just as they reached the gates, her eyelids fluttered open. She looked around in panic and found herself in the arms of a stranger on the back of a horse that was not her own.

“Where am I?” she asked fearfully.

On every side, there were heavily armed mounted men, each one of them menacing and terrible. “Take my coin, take my jewels!” she cried desperately. “But please don’t hurt me! I will not tell anyone what happened here. You have my word, just let me go!”

She thought that the bandits had captured her, and she was being taken to their headquarters. For a moment, Niall imagined what would have happened to her there.

“Don’t worry,” Niall said reassuringly, feeling infinitely sorry for her. “We are not bandits. We scared them away. I am taking you to Baltyre Castle, and you will come to no harm from anyone there. I will take you to our healer as soon as we are inside.”

The woman looked unsure whether to believe him or not. Perhaps she was thinking this was another ploy to fool her into trusting him, while she was genuinely being carried to safety. Yet even if she was being carried into danger, there was nothing she could do about it.

It was at that moment that she screamed in agony, as though a bolt of excruciating pain shot up. She thrashed around in Niall’s arms till once more she passed out.

Niall ordered one of his men to ride ahead so that the healer would be ready to treat the young woman when they arrived, then he looked down at Moira’s leg and grimaced. The tourniquet had worked for a while, but it had loosened during Moira’s struggles and blood was now leaking from the injury. He could not risk going any faster because of the darkness, and the risk of making things worse, so he gritted his teeth and rode on.

When Moira opened her eyes again, she felt well-rested, and although her leg still hurt a little, it was nothing compared to the agony she had been in earlier. She looked around at her unfamiliar surroundings, confused for a moment, before her memory returned. She had a vague remembrance of coming through a huge set of metal gates, hearing the clatter of hoofbeats on flagstones and the rumble of men’s deep voices.

A young woman bent over her, smiling. “How are ye feelin’, hen?” she asked, as she put a hand on her forehead to judge her temperature.

“Better, thank you,” Moira answered hoarsely. She rubbed her eyes and blinked in the daylight which was streaming through the window. Where was she, she wondered?

“Ye dinnae have a fever, anyway. An’ your wound seems tae be healin’ well—there is nae infection.”

Moira sighed with relief. “I am so glad to hear that.” Infection was one of the many causes of an agonising death after an injury. “How long am I here?”

“Well, after I bound and cleaned your wound to stop the bleeding, I sedated ye. Ye fell into a deep sleep for two days.”

When Moira’s lower lip started quivering from panic, the woman quickly added, “Dinnae fret, hen! I spared no effort to assure that ye would make a full recovery.”

“Thank you, really.”

She was snuggled under cosy blankets and the healer came up to her and raised a glass of water to her lips, which Moira sipped greedily.

“What is your name, hen?” the healer asked curiously, with a slight smile.

“Moira.”

“I’m Sandie Aitken. I’m the healer in this Keep,” Sandie informed her. “Ye were in a terrible state, but the Captain saw to it that your leg was bandaged so ye didnae bleed tae death.”

Moira was stunned. “I had no idea it was so serious,” she breathed.

“Dinnae worry,” Sandie said soothingly. “Ye are fine now, hen.”

“Am I, though? I don’t even know where I am. Whose Keep is this?”

“We are in Baltyre Castle, home of the McPhee family.”

Moira felt a stab of fear, having heard that the Laird was a fearsome man. Even if his Captain saved her, and brought her here, did not mean the Laird had the best of intentions for her. A Captain must do his work, after all.

“Now ye must eat somethin’ tae help ye get your strength back, then ye can have a good long soak in the bath. How does that sound?”

“Wonderful.” Moira forced a smiled, and felt her face stretching in an uncomfortable way, as though she had not smiled for months. Sandie helped her sit up, then sent for some soup and bread, which Moira devoured greedily.

“It’s best no’ tae eat a big heavy meal at first, hen,” Sandie told her as she took her tray away. “Let us get ye washed now. When ye are clean, ye will feel like a new woman.”

Moira felt sated and comfortable in a way she had not felt for a long while, but she had no time to relax because at that moment the door opened and a man stepped into the room. She had a feeling that she had seen him before, but surely, she would have remembered someone like this?

Moira was transfixed. This was not just any man, but the biggest, most masculine man she had ever beheld. His light-brown hair, streaked with strands of blond, fell to his shoulders in waves, and his eyes, the most intense green she had ever seen, met hers and held her gaze. For a long moment, it seemed that only the two of them existed in the deep silence that settled around them.

“M’Laird,” Sandie greeted him, giving him a polite curtsey, which Niall acknowledged with a nod.

He closed the door behind him and walked over to stand beside Moira’s bed, then looked down at her, frowning for a few moments. At last, he asked, “What is your name?” His voice was a husky rumble, and sounded as though it came from somewhere deep inside his broad chest.

“I’m Moira.”

The Laird smirked, but he was not amused. “Your full name, lass.”

“Moira… Jamieson,” she replied without thinking.

She had somehow, by some miracle, plucked the surname out of thin air, and now she looked back at the big man, terrified. What was he going to do with her?

“I am sorry to intrude like this, My Laird, but I promise to be gone as soon as I can.”

To her surprise, he shook his head. “There is no need for haste,” he told her. “You may stay for as long as it takes you to recover.” He leaned over the bed and looked at her keenly. “Why were you riding alone at night, lass? It seems like a very dangerous thing for a young woman to be doing.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Were you running away from something—or someone?”

Moira hesitated. Should she trust him? What if he was just another abuser like her father and husband? She had to be cautious; her husband’s brother was probably looking for her.

She nodded, looking down at her hands to avoid his alluring eyes. “Aye, My Laird. I was trying to escape from my betrothed; he is a cruel beast, and I am absolutely terrified of marrying him.”

Moira’s tone was bitter as she told her lie, but the emotion inside her was genuine as she thought of her husband’s treatment. Husband, betrothed—what did it matter? Cruelty was cruelty.

“He had me imprisoned in his house until the wedding was over, but tonight I was able to get away. I thought I had managed to escape before the bandits attacked me. I don’t know what would have happened to me if your men had not come along and rescued me. Thank you, My Laird, I think I owe you my life.”

The Laird studied Moira for a long moment before commenting. When he spoke, his voice was trembling with anger. “I am deeply sorry this happened to you, Mistress.”

He watched as her expression turned to one of relief, but her eyes were full of tears, and he realised that she was in shock. He knew this because he had seen it many times in men who had come from a battlefield where they had seen blood spilled and violence beyond their capability to cope with it. It affected them whether they had seen it or inflicted it; indeed, he had suffered from it himself more than once.

Now he was gazing at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, looking almost like some magical creature from a fantasy story. He could not stop himself from staring at her pale, porcelain skin and silver blonde hair, her large pale blue eyes and full, Cupid’s bow mouth that was begging to be kissed. It was a very long time since a woman had had such an effect on him, and he felt his traitorous male body begin to betray him.

Then he chided himself for being so stupid; after all, he had just met the woman. Her beauty might be covering a black heart full of treachery. She might turn out to be a spiteful shrew who was only interested in his wealth and status. After all, he had a lot to offer; wealth, property, and a host of servants at her beck and call.

He knew her story about the bandits was genuine because he had been there, but it was a very long time since he had been able to trust anyone. There might be a hundred things about her that he would find repulsive. No, she could stay under his roof for as long as it took her to recuperate, then he would send her on her way.

“Thank you,” Moira said gratefully. She sighed and wiped away her tears with the heels of her hands, then gave him a shy smile. “I feel much better now.”

At that moment, two manservants came in carrying a copper tub, which they placed behind a screen. The Laird stood up, and Moira was struck again by his size. He was a sturdily-built man, but he seemed to take up more than physical space, as if he had an aura around him that made him larger than he actually was.

“I will leave you now,” he told her. “You are in very capable hands.” He gave her a slight bow, turned and walked away, pausing at the door to have a word with Sandie. She nodded and smiled at him before he left.

“What did he say to you?” Moira asked curiously.

“He told me tae let him know if your condition became worse,” Sandie replied. “He is a very kind man, although he does his best tae hide it. He seems very fierce, but he has a heart o’ gold. We a’ love him.” Then she winked. “An’ it is very nice tae have such a handsome Laird!”

Lying in the bath in the warm scented water, she was finally able to really relax for the first time in months. Were her fortunes changing at last? She hoped so. Then she thought of Laird McPhee. What if he mistreated her, or worse still handed her back to McDonnell? Once more, a tide of panic swept over her.

How far away was Baltyre Castle from her previous home? Had she ridden far enough for the two men not to be in the same social circle, or would they know each other? Moira’s heart began to beat so fast that the warm water no longer soothed her, and she started to panic, then wondered if she could possibly ride away that night. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down, then called Sandie.

“How soon will it be before I am able to ride again?” she asked.

Sandie’s eyes widened with disbelief, then her expression changed to a deep frown. “Nae less than a week, an’ even then I wouldnae advise it, hen,” she answered. “I would leave it for at least two.”

Moira’s heart sank. Two weeks! No, she decided. Healed or not, she would get out of this place as soon as she possibly could.

Outside, Niall called Finn, his face a mask of rage. “I want you and your best men from the garrison to round up those vermin infesting my land,” he said furiously. “No one should ever have to be concerned about their safety in Baltyre. I will not stand for it!”

Finn looked at his master apprehensively. He knew this tone; when the thugs were caught—God help them!