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Brody looked back as they rode away from Baltyre castle and smirked in triumph. “Well, that was a lot easier than I expected,” he said. “To be truthful, I feel a little disappointed. I expected a bit more resistance from McPhee’s men.”

If he wanted Moira to speak up, he was disappointed. She said nothing, and stared resolutely in front of her, refusing to meet his eyes.

She was terrified, but was doggedly refusing to show it, since her fear would be another weapon for Brody to use against her. What was Niall doing, she wondered? She hoped against hope that he was following her with a rescue party, but how could he if he had no idea where she was going? Her situation seemed hopeless.

Her thoughts were racing, however. Her hands were tied in front of her to make it possible for her to ride, but she would be unable to run; she needed her arms and hands for balance and drive. No—that would be impossible, and she would never be able to outpace a man, especially wearing her long skirts and petticoats.

Moira tried surreptitiously moving her hands to test the tension of the ropes, but they were too tight to allow her hands to slip out, although not painfully so. If she had time and somewhere to hide, she was sure she could untie herself, but she had neither of those things. She was helpless.

Perhaps trickery? Could she perhaps pretend to faint with shock, as so many ladies did? Maybe she could find a way out if she pretended to be unconscious, but the more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed as an option. Anyway, she might have to fall off her horse and injure herself, then she would indeed be doomed!

Moira looked down at the horse they had chosen for her. Moira could tell the mare was fairly old and not very fast, so trying to outrun the bigger mounts of her kidnappers was also impossible. She sighed irritably, knowing that she would have to face whatever fate awaited her.

Another thrill of fear went through her as she saw that they were about to enter into the dark shadows of a pine wood, where the trees were so close together she could hardly see. All her married life, Moira had been wary of the dark, mostly because her husband had often lurked in shadowed corners to frighten her.

However, there was one bright spot on the horizon. Jean would be there, someone who loved her would be there, and she would do everything to protect Jean. Moira tried to cheer herself up with this thought, but as they moved over the narrow path through the dark pines, she was trembling with fear.

Brody had been keeping up a continuous stream of nonsensical talk all the way along their route, mostly boastful lies about his own abilities and achievements, and Moira’s attention had soon wandered.

To Moira’s intense relief, they emerged eventually onto a grassy field where a flock of sheep and lambs were grazing. A small rundown farmhouse with an equally ramshackle barn stood there, and Moira shuddered as she looked at it and realised that this was their destination.

The first signs of dusk were beginning to show in the sky, and night would soon be closing in. Moira dreaded what McDonnell had in store for her. Would she be tried for her husband’s murder? She hoped not, otherwise her life would be done.

However, when one of Brody’s men dragged her off the horse, she squared her shoulders and tilted her chin up, refusing to show how frightened she was. Brody would never make her beg for mercy, no matter how badly he treated her. She would always fight back, as she had been doing for years.

“Do you like your new home, Moira?” Brody asked with a malicious smile.

Again, Moira remained silent, but Brody was tired of being ignored. He thrust his face into hers, and Moira recoiled at the foul stench of his breath. “Answer me!” he hissed.

“Yes!” she cried in terror at the savage fury in his face.

He gave her a venomous look, then he stepped forward to open the door with a large key that he took from a deep pocket in his jacket. He grabbed Moira by the arm then practically flung her through the doorway so that she landed on the floor face down. She had flexed out her hands to break her fall, and the resulting pain of the impact stunned her and took her breath away for a moment.

When her head had stopped spinning a moment later, the stench of rotten straw, mice, and manure hit her, and she covered her nose and mouth with her hand to try to block it out.

Then she heard a familiar and beloved voice, and looked up to see Jean rushing towards her. She reached down and helped Moira to her feet, then cried, “Mistress! I am so glad tae see ye!”

Her homely face was full of concern, and Moira hastened to reassure her.

Moira tried to smile. “Jean!” she exclaimed. “Thank god!”

She was about to embrace Jean when she realised that her hands were still tied, and she turned to ask Brody to free her. However, Jean had anticipated her request and had begun to untie the rope from Moira’s wrists. It took her a few moments, but eventually Moira breathed a sigh of relief as the cords fell away. She rubbed her wrists, which were raw and sore.

“I suggest you do not cause me any more trouble, Moira,” Brody warned her grimly. “I have stationed two guards outside to stop you escaping, and they are not the kind of men you should trifle with. I want you all in one piece, I have plans for you.”

He paused, watching and enjoying the fear on Moira’s face. Then his own countenance took on an expression of sickening satisfaction as he said, “You see, my brother had all the things I wanted. He had you and your rare beauty.” He gave her a leering smile. “When my father died, Roy, being the elder son, inherited all his wealth, which he did not deserve. He was a wastrel, a drunk, and a gambler, so it was easy to pay someone to drop a little something in his drink and put him to sleep forever. Now I have his fortune, which he would likely have gambled away anyway, and I have you. We will be married as soon as I can arrange it.”

Moira was so horrified at this news that despite her fear, she yelled, “I would rather die than marry you!”

However, Brody had been expecting something like this, and was thoroughly enjoying the sense of power he was experiencing as he stepped over to Jean and held the dagger to her throat. He gave Moira an evil smile. “Be very careful, Moira,” he warned. “If you continue to resist me, I will kill her.”

Jean was wearing an expression of sheer terror, and the lethal blade was only inches from her throat. Moira instinctively went on the attack, pushing Jean out of the way of danger. However, as she flew past Brody, his knife sliced along her left arm, causing her to scream in pain as a deep gash opened.

Brody grabbed a fistful of her hair, then growled, “Stop fighting me, or I will kill both of you!”

He had no time to say another word, however, for at that moment the sound of horses’ hooves and the roar of men’s voices shrieking in rage could be heard outside, as well as the noise of clashing metal as swords struck swords.

Brody let go of Moira and jumped to his feet, making for the door, but hearing the noises of battle outside, he hesitated. He knew that Niall’s guards’ fighting skills had been honed to perfection, and had no wish to die at their hands. He had never fought a battle in his life, and knew he had little or no chance of survival.

He dithered for another moment, wondering if he could find another way out of the barn. However, a second later the door flew open and hit the wall of the barn with a resounding crash, then Niall burst in.

He looked even bigger than usual in the small dark space, and was truly a terrifying sight. He was carrying his enormous, lethal broadsword and his expression was murderous as he looked at Brody, his teeth bared in a ferocious scowl.

Brody raised his own sword, trying to appear defiant, but even before a blow was struck, it was clear that he was outmatched. He was smaller and lighter in build than Niall, whose arms had a much longer reach, and he was frozen with fear.

Niall advanced towards him threateningly, holding his sword out point first towards Brody’s chest. He could see the other man trembling, and he knew he was the superior fighter of the two, but Brody was standing only a few paces away from the prone figure of Moira, and Niall was taking no chances. Brody could reach over to threaten Moira with his own weapon, or even hurt her by accident.

He cast a glance over to where an older woman was holding Moira in her arms, reassured to see that Moira’s eyes were open and she was watching him.

At last Brody moved, raising his sword to bring it down on Niall’s shoulder, but he swept it aside easily and began to edge sideways so that they were moving away from the two women.

Up till that moment, Niall had been careful with his adversary as he lured him away, but now he let loose with all his strength and the skill that years of experience had given him.

Brody’s eyes widened with fear as he struggled to stay upright against a foe that was twice his size and strength, and when Niall’s sword pierced his heart, he went down without a sound.

Niall wasted no time in rushing to Moira’s side. The other woman had folded a piece of cloth torn from her skirt and was pressing the thick wad onto the deep gash on Moira’s arm, at the same time murmuring soft words of comfort.

“We need tae get her tae a healer as soon as we can, M’Laird,” she said anxiously, for surely Niall couldn’t have been anything less than a Laird in poor Jean’s eyes. “She is losin’ a lot o’ blood.”

Moira was groaning in agony, and Niall could see that the cloth was already bright red. He wished with all his heart that he could take her pain away and bear it himself. This was what it felt like to truly love someone, he thought, and he knew that if Moira died, a part of him would die too; that was how much she meant to him.

At that moment, Finn came in, looking sweaty, dishevelled and blood-spattered, but uninjured.

“My men have sorted out McDonnell’s men,” he stated grimly. “They can walk back tae the castle wi’ us.”

He looked down at Moira and frowned in concern, then left hurriedly to organise his men for the trip back to Baltyre. He had plenty of experience with wounds, and he knew that Moira’s was serious.

Moira looked up into Niall’s leaf-green eyes, and her heart swelled with love. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t know what we would have done if you had not come. He threatened us both and?—”

Niall smiled and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “I love you,” he whispered. “I will never love anyone but you, Moira, and I will never let anyone hurt you—ever again. I promise. You mean everything to me.”

“And you mean everything to me too, Niall,” Moira answered, “and I…”

She began to voice another thought, but as she spoke his face began to blur before her eyes then darkness descended, and she remembered no more.

Niall looked at Moira, horrified. She could not be dead, could she? He felt the pulse at her throat and almost wept with relief when he found it strong and steady.

“Thank god,” he whispered.

“She is a tough lass, M’Laird,” Jean assured him. “I am sure she will be fine, but we must hurry.”

Niall cupped Moira’s cheek and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I hope you’re right,” he said. “Because I could not live without her. Look after her.”

He instructed, then sprang to his feet and ran outside to get help. His heart was racing, he had never been so afraid.