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Strangely enough, as soon as she had made the decision to go down to the loch, Moira’s headache began to clear, and she felt the tension ebbing out of her body. That was until she had an encounter with Niall.

It was a clear, cold evening, but she had been cold before and survived, and no doubt she would again, she reasoned. There was still an hour or so till full darkness and a long twilight.

The stables were a safe space for her; warm with the heat of the horses’ bodies, and although the smell of the animals was not exactly akin to eau de parfum, Moira loved it. She had often been able to escape from her cruel husband in the stables by hiding in the hayloft and covering herself in straw. That was why the atmosphere of the horses’ abode was so dear to her.

Now, Niall had ruined that for her.

Moira began to wish she had put her cloak on, since she began to shiver. She thought about going back to retrieve it, but she had no wish to encounter Niall again. Two confrontations in one evening was more than enough!

Her wrists were still tingling from the pressure of Niall’s grip, and although she could not see them, she knew there would be red marks there.

Her tears had dried, but a whirlwind of emotions coursed through her, the main one now being embarrassment at having allowed herself to become so emotional in front of Niall. Now she had given him a stick to beat her with—a metaphorical one that he could cast up in her face any time he wished.

However, as she looked at her dappled-grey horse, she knew that if she made it as far as Loch Begg, she could make it out of Baltyre without too much trouble. After all, the bandits were gone, and if her horse was swift enough she could outrun most wild animals. Immediately, her confidence increased; she straightened her back and lifted her chin. She could do this.

Why should I care about Niall McPhee? she thought mutinously. I will soon be gone from this place.

The notion strengthened Moira’s determination. She had been idle for too long; tomorrow morning there would be no more delay. She would not stop to break her fast or greet anyone. She would avoid all contact with Niall, Glennie and Gerald. She would simply slip away; in fact, had she thought of it before she would be escaping now, but she had none of her belongings with her.

Moira wished she knew in which direction the city of Aberdeen lay. She had made up her mind to go there and look for opportunities in the bustling city. There was no chance that she could find a place to work in Baltyre, it was too small an area and her husband’s brother would be on the lookout for her.

Moira had hardly remembered Brodie McDonnell during the time she had been away, but suddenly the memory of him came surging back. He had been instrumental, along with her father, in arranging her marriage to his brother, Roy. It was he who had told him about Moira and how beautiful she was.

And suddenly, Moira found herself in her father’s study, and knew that an altogether different future had been mapped out for her.

“Come in and sit down, Moira,” her father had told her. “I have some good news for you.” John Patterson had the kind of face that turned his attempt at a smile into something that resembled a wolf snarling, and as he smiled at his daughter, Moira felt a shiver of dread run down her spine.

Good news? She had never received good news from her father in her life, and she doubted if that was about to change.

Her father sat back in his chair with a satisfied air and said smugly, “I have found a husband for you. His name is Roy McDonnell and he is a prosperous fellow merchant. He will give you the finest things in life, you will be living very comfortably indeed. What do you think of that?”

Moira stared at him, horrified, then finally managed to ask, “Do I know him?”

Her father shook his head. “No, but you will have a while to get to know each other better,” he replied. “The wedding is to take place in a week, and I will have Roy come over every night so that you can have dinner together and talk. As you can imagine, he is a very busy man, and will not have any time during the day.”

He stood up and fetched a bottle of red wine from his desk drawer, poured two glasses, and held his up in a toast. Moira did the same, although drinking to her health under the circumstances was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Slàinte Mhath!” he said smugly.

“Slàinte Mhath.”

Moira’s toast was a great deal less hearty, but she dutifully swallowed her wine, even though it tasted like vinegar in her mouth. She had never drunk wine before, since her father had always been too strict to let her drink as a woman. Now, however, she was too numb to protest.

Not only was she horrified, but furious. How dare he spring this awful surprise on her? Who was this man she was about to marry?

She was trapped, and when she met her future husband she was almost sick with disgust. He was at least thirty years older than her, with sparse white hair and a face with sunken cheekbones, thin lips and bushy white eyebrows that made his piercing black eyes look like caverns in his face.

She hated him at first sight, and when they spoke, his conversation never wavered from one subject; himself. Their wedding took place in the dining room of her father’s house, and there were only half a dozen guests there. After the wedding breakfast, Roy McDonnell took her to their bedroom…

When she was taken to Baltyre Castle after the ambush, she had thought she was free, but now she was beginning to think she had escaped from one prison and stumbled into another.

Moira had become so distracted by her gloomy thoughts that she was beginning to lose all sense of direction. She knew that there was a wood at the foot of the castle which was not too thick, but the gathering darkness was making it almost impossible for Moira to make her way through it.

As well as that, she had not been able to explore the surrounding district due to the injury on her leg, so getting her bearings was a problem. Darkness had set in more quickly than she had anticipated, and the moon was no longer bright, having shrunk to a thin crescent. Moira had been so eager to escape from Niall that she had not brought a lantern, and she cursed herself for being a fool.

Every sound, no matter how faint, made her senses prickle. There were owls hooting, leaves rustling in the wind, and the sound of small animals running through the undergrowth. However, Moira was most frightened of the wild boars, which she knew roamed the area and could occasionally be very vicious.

As she wandered, darkness fell like a black curtain, and soon it became almost impossible to see through the trees. After a while, Moira felt a breeze on her face, and emerged from the wood onto a stretch of grassland. She could smell, rather than see, water in front of her, and sighed with relief.

Then, abruptly, a long, drawn-out howl broke the stillness of the night. A wolf! Moira’s horse screamed and reared up, then broke into a gallop to escape the animal.

When she hit the water, the horse panicked, then reared again. Moira hauled on the reins, trying desperately to keep the mare under her control, but neither her riding skill nor her strength was equal to the task. After another few moments that seemed endless, the horse threw her into the water before scrambling out and galloping away.

Moira was terrified. She had never learned to swim, and now she floundered helplessly in the icy water. The shock of its freezing temperature had made her inhale a great lungful of it, then her head dipped below the water, and she gulped in mouthfuls. The fear that filled her was overwhelming, but so was the urge to survive. She coughed and spluttered, kicked and flailed with her arms and legs, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not keep her head above the water.

As the icy liquid closed over her head, Moira’s lungs were full of water, but her panic eased, to be replaced by a strange peace, and she resigned herself to death.

Niall knew he had no more time to waste. He knew that Moira was not likely to be in any fit state to ride properly yet, and she had little idea of what the countryside around the castle looked like. She had a head start of a few moments, and the time it took to saddle his mount seemed endless.

When Logie was fully saddled and bridled, Niall mounted and went after her. The path was well-used and very easy to see, but there were no fresh hoof marks on it. In desperation, he frantically began to explore the rest of the area to see if he could spot any sign of her. He knew it well, and could find his way even in the dark, but he had a feeling that Moira was now likely to be hopelessly lost.

He knew Loch Begg was nearby, and even if it was a beautiful sight to behold, at this time of the day, wild animals sought their prey. Even the most skilled hunters avoided the loch during the night. Many incidents of men losing their lives in its waters during darkness…

Niall spent what seemed like an hour searching for her before several things happened at once. He heard the plaintive howl of a wolf and the shriek of a panicked horse, then a few seconds later a woman’s scream pierced the night air.

Niall’s heart skipped a beat. “Moira!” he cried, then swung Logie around to gallop towards the lake. He was just in time, by the feeble light of the crescent moon, to see Moira’s head disappearing under the water.

He did not think twice, but leapt from Logie’s back, tossed his cloak aside and plunged into the water. He too inhaled a lungful of icy water, but coughed it back up again and swam towards Moira’s limp body. As soon as he touched her, however, she reached out for him, and he slowly swam backwards to the shore, pulling her with him.

As soon as they reached the shore, Niall realised that Moira was still very much alive when she coughed up what seemed like gallons of water before gulping in great lungfuls of air. He sat her up and wrapped his cloak around her, then helped her stand up.

Later, Niall would reprimand himself harshly for his next words, but a mixture of anger, fear and relief made him growl, “What the hell were you thinking, Moira? You could have drowned.” A moment later, he regretted his words sorely.

As soon as she was on her feet, Moira backed away from him. She was shivering from head to foot, and she could see that Niall was too, but he picked up his cloak from the ground and wrapped it around her.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I should not have shouted like that, but I was worried about you.”

Immediately, Moira tried to take off the cloak, but Niall was not taking no for an answer. He stepped up and wrapped it around her even more tightly than before. She tried to back away further, but he held on to the cloak, and Moira’s strength could not match his.

“Come back with me to the castle.” His voice was gentle. “I cannot leave you here, Moira. This part of my land is full of boars and wolves, and you would be no match against them. Come back with me. I promise no harm will come to you, and you can leave in the morning if you wish.”

Moira stared up at him. In the almost complete darkness, he could see were tiny glints of light in her eyes from the waters of the loch. He could see nothing of her expression, but he was sure she was petrified. She said nothing, though.

After a few minutes of silence, Niall sighed. “I can tell that you are afraid of me,” he said sadly. “I know what it feels like to be scared, Moira. I have fought many battles and been injured many times.

I have even had to kill in self-defence, but I have never laid a hand on a woman in anger, and I never will. I can tell that something in your life has broken a piece of you because I see the same pain that I carry in me, and I know how much it hurts. Trust me, Moira. I promise I will not let you down. Let me take you to safety.”

Moira hesitated. Could this be a trap? Some sort of game? Had he let her leave the castle just so that he could bring her back for some sadistic purpose of his own?

Yet as his wet clothes clung to him, she could see his muscular shape, and the way his masculine body differed so sharply from her own. Even in these strange circumstances, when she was quivering with cold and fright, she could still feel something pulling her towards him.

“I will come with you, but only because I have no other choice,” she said at last. “I could never find my way out of this place on my own.”

“Good,” Niall said. “I promise you, lass, you are doing the right thing. I am not the monster you seem to think I am, and I will take you to safety.”

Having said this, he helped Moira onto her horse, and they rode back to the castle. Niall tried to start a conversation several times, but Moira was too tired, cold, and frightened to reply, and eventually, he gave up.

As soon as they arrived, Niall took Moira to the sick room, where Sandie dried her off and wrapped her in a warm dry blanket, then gave her a thorough examination.

“I dinnae think there is anythin’ wrong, hen,” she said, “but ye must go straight tae bed an’ rest. I will send up some hot milk for ye. How did ye end up in the water?”

She gave Moira a puzzled frown.

“It’s a long story, Sandie,” Moira replied, yawning. “I will tell you tomorrow.”

Moira thought that Niall would have gone straight to his own chamber, but he was waiting for her outside the sick room. He too was wearing a dry blanket, although his clothes were still wet.

“I wanted to see that all was well with you,” he told her. “What did Sandie say?”

Moira sighed. “She says everything seems fine,” she answered. “You should let her look at you.”

Niall shrugged. “I’m fine, Moira,” he said. “A wee dip in the loch will not do me much harm.”

Now that she could look at him properly, Moira could see that a bruise had formed on his forehead. “What happened?” she asked.

Niall laughed. “I collided with a low branch,” he replied. “No serious damage, my head is too hard to be seriously harmed by a bit of wood.”

“Thank you for helping me.” Moira looked down at the ground as she spoke. “You saved my life, I owe you a great debt of gratitude.”

“You owe me nothing,” Niall told her. He put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to look at him. “I would have done the same for anyone, Moira. Now go to bed. And sleep well.”

“You too, My Laird,” Moira said, then she smiled at him for the first time in days.

Niall smiled back. “Goodnight, Moira,” he said, then he was gone.

Moira went to her chamber and lay down, then drank her milk and laid her head on her pillow. She was exhausted, but sleep would not come, and by dawn she was still tired, and far too hot.