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When Moira opened her eyes, she realised that she was back in the castle in an unfamiliar room. She was lying on the soft mattress of a canopied bed, and her head rested on a soft feather pillow. For a few moments her mind was blank, then the events that had happened just before she lost consciousness came rushing back to her in a jumbled blur of realisation.

Moira squealed with fright as the memory of the dagger came back to her. She tried to sit up, but a bolt of sheer agony shot up her arm from the injury she had sustained, and she flopped down on the pillow again with tears streaming from her eyes.

“Mistress!” The voice belonged to Sandie, who rushed to her side and took both of Moira’s hands in her own. “Dinnae worry, ye are safe now.” She took a length of bandage and wiped Moira’s tears away gently.

“What-what happened?” Moira asked fearfully. Her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen, but she breathed a huge sigh of relief as she realised that there were none of Brody’s men around her, and no sign of Brody himself. Had Niall killed him? She hoped so. A quick death was more than he deserved.

“The Laird brought ye back fae the village the night, before last,” Sandie replied. “He has been sittin’ by your bedside a’ night, but I told him tae go an’ get some sleep. He is fair worried about ye, Mistress.”

“Have I been asleep all this time?” Moira was shocked, but Sandie smiled.

“I gave ye a wee somethin’ tae help ye,” she answered. “Ye were in such a state when ye came in.”

Moira vaguely remembered Niall’s anxious eyes looking down at her as he carried her upstairs, and the sensation of being laid gently on the bed. She remembered nothing about the journey to the castle, however. She looked around herself.

She was in a very plain room. The furniture was made of an assortment of different kinds of wood, and nothing matched anything else. There was a mahogany table in the corner with oak chairs next to it, and the armoire was oak. A writing table made of ebony stood beside the bed, which was also fashioned from oak, but in a completely different style.

The walls were pale grey, as was the coverlet and drapes on the bed, and were adorned with only one painting above the fireplace, the rest being bare. It was the chamber of someone who was uninterested in frills and furbelows, and had a starkly masculine feel.

“Whose room is this?” Moira asked curiously.

Sandie smiled. “The Laird’s,” she answered.

“Where is Jean? My maid?” Moira asked anxiously.

“Dinnae fret, Mistress. She is preparing some food in the kitchens for ye as ye speak!”

At that moment, the door of the chamber opened and Glennie stepped in.

As soon as she saw that Moira’s eyes were open, her face lit up, and she cried, “Moira! I am so glad you are awake!”

She rushed over to the bed and was about to throw her arms around Moira, but Sandie stopped her at the last moment. “Careful, Milady,” she warned. “The arm is no’ yet healed and is still sore.”

Glennie immediately looked contrite. “I am so sorry, Moira,” she said. I am just so glad to see that you’re awake and looking so well.”

Moira laughed. “I am not exactly at death’s door, Glennie.” She looked at her friend’s face, which was so like Niall’s, but in a feminine way, and thought about how much she had grown to love Glennie. “And it is I who should be sorry. I was deceiving you about my name and the fact that I was married, and I was about to run away without telling you, and not even leave a note. You deserve better. Please forgive me, Glennie.”

Then she put her face in her hands as she remembered something she had done that was even worse. “And I deceived Niall too, but he still came to rescue me. What a good man he is, Glennie, the best I have ever met, but now I am ashamed to face him.”

This time, Glennie leaned forward and folded her arms around Moira in a gentle embrace. “He loves you so much, Moira,” she said warmly. “As I do too. And if you lied to me, it was to protect yourself, and I forgive you. I regard you as my sister now. Indeed, you are the only sister I will have because Niall is not marrying Beitris, thank god. I can’t stand the woman.”

“Oh, I am so glad to hear you think of me as a sister,” Moira said, smiling. “Because I feel the same about you, and I am really not at all fond of Beitris.” Then she frowned. “But Niall is really not marrying her?”

“No,” Glennie replied. “He found out that Gerald McNicholl had manipulated her to gain more power and influence in the clan. The man had spies everywhere, even bought Heather off to keep an eye on you! I dismissed the lass without punishment, thinking of her situation, but it will be hard to forgive her betrayal.

Niall was furious when he found out because he does not like her any more than I do, and once he found out the truth, he simply could not go through with it, especially since he loves you.”

Despite herself, Moira felt sad for Beitris. She had never really liked her, but she knew what it felt like to be used, and it was not pleasant.

“Where is Beitris now?” she asked curiously.

“She has gone home to her family,” Glennie answered, and Moira’s heart gave a leap of joy. “She left in very bad grace. She did not even say goodbye to me, nor Niall, but I doubt he cared one bit for anyone other than you.”

Glennie smiled fondly at Moira and kissed her cheek. “Now, I will send for him. He will be overjoyed to see you.” She gave Moira one last hug and turned at the doorway to smile at her. “Good luck,” she said.

Niall had just woken up after an extremely restless night’s sleep in one of the spare bedrooms when he heard a knock at the door. He had sat at Moira’s bedside until the early hours of the morning, ignoring Sandie’s instructions to go and rest.

Now he was only half-awake and irritable, with the beginnings of a throbbing headache. He wrapped a blanket around himself and went to open the door with very bad grace. When he saw his sister, he groaned.

“What do you want, Glennie?” he asked, rubbing his hands over his eyes as he glared at her.

“Good morning to you too,” Glennie said dryly, frowning. “I came to tell you that Moira is awake.”

The effect on Niall was instant. He rushed back into his room and almost threw his clothes on in his haste to get to Moira. His heart was beating a wild tattoo, and he began to sprint down the passageway. As he came closer to his room, though, he slowed down then stopped and took a few deep breaths, realising that Moira would not appreciate seeing him in such a state.

He walked the rest of the way calmly, although he was hardly able to contain his impatience and excitement. When he reached his chamber, he opened the door and looked straight into Moira’s beautiful eyes.

“Moira!” he cried, then rushed across the room to throw his arms around her.

However, at the last moment, Niall saw the heavy bandage on Moira’s arm and stopped beside the bed, instead reaching out to cup her face in his hands and give her a soft kiss on the lips.

“How are you, my lovely enchantress?” he asked gently.

Moira’s heart swelled with love and joy as she gazed at Niall. Noting the anxiety in his eyes, she hastened to reassure him.

“I am fine, Niall.” She put out her good hand to stroke his cheek, and Niall placed his own big hand over it, then sighed in relief and satisfaction.

Niall closed his eyes and kissed her palm, and the smile he gave Moira was the most loving one he had ever given her. He had not realised how worried he had been until he saw her face again, and now that he was sure she was safe, all his pent-up emotion threatened to spill out.

Then something else occurred to him. “Moira, did he hurt you?” he asked anxiously. “Or touch you in any way that was… not right?”

Moira shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile. “I am well, Niall,” she assured him tenderly. “He insulted me and threatened my old maid but nothing else. Truly, I have come to no harm apart from the scratch on my arm.”

Niall frowned. “It looks like a bit more than a scratch to me!” His voice was furious, and there was a fierce frown on his face.

“Sandie has given me a salve and draught for the pain,” Moira told him. “Don’t worry, Niall. It will heal.”

Niall gave a soft laugh, and shook his head in a self-deprecating manner. “I only worry about you, Moira,” he said. “If anything happened to you, I don’t know what would happen to me.”

Moira looked into his emerald eyes and saw the deep well of love in them—love for her. What had she done to deserve it, she wondered? Suddenly, she was nervous. She had no idea what the future held for her yet, but she had to leave the past behind her, and that meant coming to terms with the truth.

“Niall, did you find out what Brody knew about what happened to Roy?” she asked. “I have been worrying about it.”

Niall sighed somewhat irritably, since it was a matter he had not wanted to speak about during this precious time with Moira.“Yes, I did,” he replied. “Actually, Finn found out. He has a few paid informants among the bandits that infested the estates around here, and one of them brought him the identity of the man who killed Roy McDonnell. Apparently, the man was paid by Brody to do the deed.

I have him in my dungeon, as well as Gerald McNicholl, that apparently innocent old man who seemed like everyone’s doting grandfather instead of the deceitful schemer that he was!” His voice was bitter.

“I know I should not be glad that Brody had Roy killed,” Moira said sadly, “but I am. Am I wicked, Niall?”

He smiled. “If you are, then I am just as bad,” he answered. “We are glad that a drunkard, a gambler and a violent abuser was murdered? No, I would say we are both normal, decent human beings, unlike Roy.”

Moira gazed at him, hardly daring to believe that this handsome, honourable, generous man loved her, scarred and abused as she was.

His mood changed abruptly as he caught her hands in his, then raised them to his lips and kissed them before he said, “Moira, please don’t lie to me again. I understand why you did it, but there is no need for any more lying now. If you promise to always tell me the truth, I will promise the same to you.”

“I promise,” she replied, smiling.

“It is not a true promise until it’s sealed with a kiss,” Niall said, his eyes twinkling.

He sat down on the bed, then very carefully folded his arms around Moira. For a moment, he did nothing but hold her, and Moira felt herself melting into him. She was safe in the shelter of his arms, and the musk of his skin, warm and earthy, was now so familiar to her that it brought even more comfort. Indeed, she could have stayed buried in the nest of his body forever.

Niall tilted her face to his and pressed his lips to Moira’s with infinite gentleness. His entire body was throbbing with need for her, and he felt his shaft stiffening as he held her.

He parted Moira’s lips with the tip of his tongue, then plunged it inside to taste her sweetness, all the while running his hands gently over her. It seemed like an age since he had caressed her lips with his; they tasted of sweet wine, his favourite drink. She was intoxicating.

Moira was lost in a sensation of warmth and sensuality; it seemed as though Niall had taken her to a special place in heaven, where all her senses were heightened and attuned only to him. It was glorious, and she never wanted it to end, but of course, it had to.

When they drew apart, he sighed deeply and said fervently, “God, I needed that.”

Moira laughed softly. “As did I,” she told him. Then her face became serious. “There is just one thing I would like you to do for me, Niall.”

He had no hesitation in replying. “Anything,” he replied, smiling. “I will do anything for you, Moira.”

“I would like you to have mercy on Gerald,” Moira said. “He is old and probably does not have much longer to live, Niall. The dungeon is not a place for a man like him. He made a mistake, granted, but he has not killed anyone. Forgive him as a gesture of good faith and make an ally out of him. Nobody, no matter how strong, can ever have enough allies.”

Niall looked at Moira in wonder and chuckled. “You’re already thinking like the mistress of the castle.”

Moira gave him a sad smile, “I am a nobody,” she replied. “I have nothing to offer you. I will leave soon, and you can find a lady of quality to marry.”

Niall looked at her gloomy expression and downcast eyes. He tilted her chin up and looked into her face. “Moira, I have already found myself a lady of quality—you. And never say you are nothing because you mean everything to me, and you can prove that to everyone when you are Lady Moira McPhee.”

Moira’s eyes widened in shock, and her mouth dropped open in amazement. When she had heard him declaring his love for her in the barn the previous evening, she thought she was dreaming. The whole situation had been so blurred and confusing.

Yet here he was, looking into her eyes—asking her to marry him. Had she heard him right? Moira shook her head in disbelief and his face fell; he thought she was refusing him.

Then she smiled, and Niall’s face lit up. “Are you saying yes, Moira?” he asked hopefully.

Moira decided to have mercy on him. “Yes, Niall,” she answered. “But only because I like the thought of being Lady McPhee. It has a lovely ring to it.”

Niall laughed. “Well, speaking of rings, I will give you another one—a wedding ring! One of the things I love about you, Moira, is that you make me laugh, and I have not had enough laughter in my life for a very long time.”

“I am so glad,” Moira whispered, and kissed him softly.

Niall drew her into his arms again and sighed contentedly. “Thank god I found you, Moira, because I love you more than my life. Never leave me.”

“I never will,” Moira murmured.