Highland Hope by Julie Johnstone

Eleven

Eve was quite certain she’d been duped by the two urchins riding in front of her up the rocky hill, the sun beaming brightly upon them. As her horse climbed, she kept a careful watch on Royce’s children and contemplated what mischief they were up to now. She had no doubt they were still trying to scare her off. She understood. She’d felt just as they did when her mother died and her father had pawned her off on the castle servants and ignored her. She’d wanted nothing more than his attention and love, but he’d been too cold to give it—if he’d ever had any love for her at all. Her mother had been the last person Eve had seen at night and the first person she’d seen in the morning, and her mother had told her bedtime stories of great loves. In Eve’s young mind, the stories of the noble knight who’d battled dragons to save his lady had been stories of Eve’s parents, but she’d long given up that foolish notion. Her mother had always told her to settle for nothing less than true love, but Eve hadn’t discovered until after she’d wed that her mother herself had wed for less than love and rued it all her living days.

As Eve’s horse crested the hill, a cool breeze washed over her, ruffled her hair, and sent gooseflesh over the exposed skin of her neck and chest. Her lungs tightened. She eyed the twins, both clad in what appeared to be very warm cloaks, riding on a single shiny black mount in front of her own destrier. Their whispers drifted back to her, but she could not distinguish the words.

Lord above only knew what they had planned next…

She felt a smirk pull at her lips. She hoped she survived their machinations.

She pulled back on the reins of her horse as the girls’ destrier started down the hilltop onto a narrow, winding path that appeared to lead into a lush valley. She took in the wide expanse of the breathtaking view. Green hills rolled in every direction for miles and miles, and where it was not green upon the land, it was the astonishing purple color of the heather that covered the land in patches. She inhaled a long, slow breath, and the fresh, woodsy scent of the flower filled her nose. Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes, surprising her. She quickly dashed at them, refocused on the girls, and considered what had made the tears come.

Hope.She felt hopeful for the first time in a very long time. No, she’d never have the true love of a husband she’d once dreamed of, nor would she have children of her own, but perhaps she could have a small place here and find a measure of peace. Unless her desire for a man she could never have drove her mad. She watched the twins’ horse wind down the path, and she started after them, thinking upon their father. He loved them. It was obvious. His heart was not devoid of the emotion, as her own father’s was. No, Royce MacLeod might have been a hardened warrior—a ruthless leader, even—but he had a deep love for his daughters. It was in the smile upon his face when he spoke of them and in the tenderness in his eyes. What he was not giving was time or even truly himself. From what she’d seen, he treated them as two of his warriors to be commanded and protected. It was as if he used the business of his position as laird to hold them at a distance, as if he feared allowing their lives to become too entangled, as if he feared allowing them too close. The daft man. They already had a grip on his heart whether he spent a great amount of time with them or not.

It was the last, she mused as she held tight to the reins to allow the horse a slow descent down the steep incline, that made her curious about the man behind the laird. She ought not to be. It was not her business. She was here only for a place to live in peace, far beyond the reach of Frederick, and yet, Royce had stirred her curiosity into a frenzy. He seemed to want to be hardened to soft emotions, but he wasn’t truly. He was kind and caring and tender, even in his gruff moments, and completely loyal and protective. She’d known hardened, cruel, and cold; what she’d never known was fiercely protective. The thoughts swirled in her head as the steep incline became a flat plane of lush, thick grass and the open space around her slowly became dense trees that blocked out all but the most stubborn of the sun’s rays.

“How much farther are the Fairy Pools?” she called out to the girls, feeling slightly irritated with herself that her thoughts kept straying to Royce.

“Not long,” they called in unison though neither girl turned around to answer.

“Tell me of this seer you wish to talk with,” Eve asked, wanting to find something to speak to the girls about to draw them into conversation so that they might grow closer.

“What do ye know about the MacLeod clan?” Lenora asked, looking over her shoulder to glance at Eve for one moment.

“Nothing very much,” Eve admitted.

“Ignorant English!” Lenora snapped.

“It’s not polite to point out someone’s ignorance,” Eve chided gently.

“It’s nae polite to come to someone’s home and nae know about their legends and culture,” Lenora retorted. “Why did ye want this position if ye do nae even know a thing about us?”

Eve could not very well tell the truth, but she didn’t want to lie, either. She swallowed, picking her words carefully. “I wanted a new beginning for my life,” she said. “Have you ever felt that way?”

Stony silence met her. Perhaps she would not make any progress today as she’d hoped. The thought made her sigh. She’d made precious little progress since arriving, and she’d been here over a month now. She hoped Royce wouldn’t dismiss her for it.

“I’ll tell ye of our legends if ye truly wish to hear them,” Lillith said.

“Lillith!” Lenora said. “Ye’re too soft. We are nae welcoming her, remember?”

“Simply telling me the legends does not mean you’re accepting my presence here, Lenora,” Eve said. “It means you are informing me of your ways. That’s a good thing, even if I don’t stay. But I’ll tell you a secret,” she said, deciding then and there she would tell them about what Florrie had long ago told her.

“Tell us!” the girls cried out, the anticipation in their voices obvious.

Eve grinned at their backs. She was going to win their trust no matter how long it took. “My companion told me years ago that Highlanders don’t wear anything under their kilts.”

“Oh aye,” Lenora confirmed.

Eve felt her jaw slip open, and an image of Royce as he’d been sitting yesterday with his heavily muscled legs spread filled her head. She heard the deep cadence of his voice as he told her to come between his thighs. She squeezed her eyes shut on a wave of heat. Whatever was the matter with her? She opened her eyes to find Lillith twisted about on the mount staring at her.

“Why would the men wear anything under their kilts?” Lenora asked. “This way, when they wish to make a bairn, they can.”

“Did your father tell you that?” Eve asked, sucking in a sharp breath between her parted lips.

“Och, nay. My da would nae ever speak of such things with us. Uncle Brus told us.”

“Your uncle needs to have his ears boxed.”

The girls giggled at that. Lillith stared at Eve wide-eyed for a moment as the horse she and her sister sat upon clopped deeper into the woods. “There’s much more to tell of our clan than that the men do nae bother with layers under their kilts, Abigail.”

Eve blinked, almost startled to be called by her middle name. That would not do at all; she had to remember that lie. “I’m listening,” she said.

Lillith cocked her head at Eve. “What shall we start with, Lenora?” Lillith asked, turning away from Eve and back toward her twin.

“Luran’s Horn of Truth,” Lenora said, matter-of-fact. “It’s the most important thing to Abigail if she wants to be truly accepted by the clan.”

Despite suspecting the girls were creating mischief for her in this very moment, with this very story, Eve found herself leaning forward on her mount, intrigued. “What is the Horn of Truth?” she asked as her destrier plodded across a stream behind the girls’ horse. Freezing-cold water splashed up from the stream to soak the edges of her skirt and her ankles, and she hissed between her teeth.

“’Tis a horn made of ox and gold that the mother of a former MacLeod laird, Luran, had created. Our da keeps Luran’s horn in the solar along with the Fairy Flag in a locked chest because both the horn and the flag have magical powers.”

Eve laughed at that, which earned her a glare from Lillith. Despite finding it hard to believe in fairies, Eve found she was intrigued. “Where did Luran’s mother get this horn from, and what sort of magical powers does it have?” she asked as she guided her horse along the side of the winding creek, which was now leading up a gradual incline of lush grass.

“Luran was the youngest laird of the clan until our da,” Lenora said. Eve smiled at the pride she heard in the young girl’s voice. “And Luran fell in love with a beautiful fae, but he thought the fae a mere woman as appeared at Dunvegan one day and pretended to be such.”

The word pretend made Eve tense. The girls could not know she was hiding the truth of herself, but they must suspect something to have decided to tell her this particular legend.

“Luran was supposed to wed a woman from a neighboring clan, the MacLeans, to end a feud with them and bring peace,” Lenora continued, “but when he met Daliha, he was taken by her beauty and her seeming purity. He broke his vow to the MacLeans, which started a war with them, and he pursued Daliha, despite his elders telling him not to, and he asked her to wed him. Luran’s mother had the gift of being able to feel others’ emotions when she touched them, and she had felt fear and worry in Daliha.”

“I want to finish the tale!” Lillith interrupted.

“Fine, but be quick about it. Ye know ye can be slow to relate a story.”

“Luran’s mother, Honoria,” Lillith started, “was owed a debt by the fae for saving one of their own from death. The fae told Honoria to return to them after Luran did a selfless deed, and nae before, and when she did return, she was to bring an object that was tied to his selfless deed.” She swiveled back to look at Eve. “The fae did nae really wish to aid her, ’tis thought, but they had a life debt to pay to her. They thought they were being cunning by telling her they could nae help her unless Luran did a selfless deed, but they did nae know Luran well. He was selfless and had put his clan first in everything until this deceitful Daliha beguiled him.”

The tale made Eve shift uncomfortably on her horse. “The verra day after Honoria visited the fae, Luran killed an ox that tried to gore his brother. Luran used his bare hands to grab the ox’s horns, and then he gutted the beast with his dagger. Honoria cut a horn off the ox and took it to the fae, bringing word of the deed, as well. But there was no need. Word had spread like fire, and the fae already knew. They dipped the horn in magical fae dust—”

“Which was gold,” Lenora inserted.

“And ’tis why the horn has a gold tip to this day,” Lillith said.

“And you said this horn has magical powers?” Eve asked.

“Aye, it does,” Lillith answered. “The fae cast a spell upon it. The laird of the MacLeod clan could present it to anyone he believes is lying to him to obtain the truth. All he needs to do is fill it with special wine that comes from a seer in the fairy caves.” The hairs on the back of Eve’s neck rose. The girls were bringing her here to obtain the special wine! “The person he presents it to,” Lillith continued, “must drink the wine from the horn, and when they do, they will be unable to speak anything but the truth.”

Gooseflesh swept across Eve’s skin from her head to her toe. It was tale. Nothing more. And yet…

“Honoria presented Luran with the horn,” Lenora said, guiding her horse around a bend, which Eve followed. “And she begged him to have Daliha drink from it before he wed her. Luran was so confident that Daliha was true of heart and word that he presented it to her without telling her what it was. Daliha drank from the horn, and her secrets flowed from her lips. What think you of that, Abigail?” Lenora asked, her tone challenging.

“I think,” Eve said, choosing her words with care, “that it’s an interesting tale.”

“It’s more than a tale,” Lenora said. “’Tis the truth.”

“Let me finish!” Lillith demanded. “Daliha was fae, Abigail, but her powers had been bound for being dishonorable. She was wed to another fae but had taken a lover and broken her vows.”

The girls could not know her secrets, and yet it felt as if they did. Eve’s gut knotted as Lenora continued.

“Daliha fled the Fairy Pools and came to Dunvegan hoping to start a new life where people did nae know the sort of woman she was.” Lenora paused, and Eve almost felt like she was waiting for Eve to confess. The knots in her gut tightened painfully.

“Daliha had intended to wed Luran, become mistress of Dunvegan, and never tell him she was already wed,” Lenora said. “And because she was fae, she died when she drank the special wine from the horn. The fae were angry that they’d killed one of their own. ’Twas nae their way to do such, even if Daliha had been deceitful, so they put a restriction on the horn’s powers. Now it can only be used by the MacLeod laird to illicit the truth thrice in his lifetime, and only if the circumstance is to save the clan from harm. The horn will nae work after the third use until a new laird comes to power, so the laird, our da, must choose verra wisely.”

“The fae wanted to ensure the laird was careful with how he used the horn,” Eve murmured, hardly believing she was actually inclined to believe the tale. Fairy magic, indeed! She frowned at her own ridiculousness. “Has your father ever used the horn?” she asked, glancing down at her knuckles, white from her firm grip on her reins.

“Aye,” Lillith said. “Twice, we overheard our uncle Brus say, though we only know what one time was about. We asked Da to tell us about the other, but he would nae. One time had to do with the king. There was a plot to kill him, ye see, and the men involved intended to kill Da, too, because they knew he’d do all in his power to protect the king.”

“Why did you girls bring me here?” Eve asked, already knowing. Her heart ached that the girls’ instincts that Eve was untruthful were correct, but she did not mean them any harm and she would protect them with her life as no one had ever done for her.

“Why, for the beauty of the ride!” Lenora exclaimed, but tight falseness rang in her voice. “Look around ye! I’d wager ye’ve nae ever seen such beauty in dreary old England.”

Eve pressed her lips together on pushing for the truth, given she was not giving it herself. Instead, she did as Lenora had said and pulled her gaze from the girls’ horse to glance around. She sucked in a breath at how the path had changed, and how she’d not noticed, so enthralled in the tale she’d been. The path was now slanting downward toward a glen. Thick, gnarled vines led from the trees lining either side of the path and crisscrossed the dirt where the lush grass was worn away. She followed the knotty roots, which she could just see peeking out of the grass from the path to the tall trees that stood perfectly spaced, like warriors guarding a treasure. She’d never seen such well-proportioned trees, and each one looked exactly like the one beside it. The branches reached toward the sky blocking much of the light.

As her horse clopped along, she gazed up in openmouthed wonder at how the branches stretched toward the heavens. Suddenly, her horse came to a stop, and she glanced forward, her jaw falling farther open. To the right of Lenora and Lillith’s horse was a tree that looked exactly like the others, except the face of a beautiful woman was carved at the base of the thick trunk.

“Daliha,” Eve murmured instinctively.

“Aye,” both girls replied in matching sing-song voices as they slipped deftly from their horses.

“The fae saved Daliha’s spirit, though they could nae save her body,” Lenora explained. “They put her here, in this tree, as a warning to any who would take the wine and wish to use it for any purpose other than to aid their clan.” She turned to look up at Eve and motioned for her to dismount. “The tree will nae let ye pass if yer desire for the wine is nae pure.”

For such a young child, Lenora had a mighty stare. Eve was glad for the distraction of dismounting, but once she did, she found both girls staring at her.

She cleared her throat, struggling to resist the urge to shift nervously. “Have you seen the tree block someone from going along this path?” She peered down the winding trail, which seemed to disappear between two mountains. Above her, birds called, and the wind rustled her hair as if in answer.

The girls looked at each other, then at her. “Nay,” Lillith finally answered. “We’ve nae ever been here. ’Tis on the edge of the boundaries of guarded Dunvegan land.”

Eve’s chest tightened with the confirmation that she’d been good and duped by the girls. “Your father told me not to take you beyond the boundaries. He’ll be vexed for certain.”

“We’re within the boundaries,” Lenora said, a petulant pinch to her tone. “The Fairy Pools are simply nae guarded by my father’s men because the fae guard them. We’re perfectly safe.”

Eve wasn’t sure it worked that way in the rational world, but arguing would be futile. The best thing to do at this point was get the girls back on guarded land, but she doubted she’d accomplish that until they had the wine they’d come for.

“Which way to the wine?” she asked, pleased when the girls blinked in obvious shock. At least she had the upper hand for a moment.

“Beyond the mountains,” Lillith said. “And up the hill, past the pools to the cave. The seer named Eolande lives there, and only she can give the wine.” She paused. “Ye mean to say ye’ll aid us?”

She knew the girls intended to try to get their father to have Eve drink the wine, but if the tale was true… Logic told her it could not be, but her gut did have a funny, tingling feeling in it that said it just might be. But even still, their father would never waste the wine on the likes of her. She meant nothing to him. If he suspected her of being deceitful, he’d simply send her away.

“Of course I mean to aid you,” Eve said, unable to stop her grin when both girls’ eyes widened like perfect dollops of spreading cream. “Now come along.” She brushed past them to start down the path. “We must hurry. I would not want your father to know you led me to disobey him. This will be our little secret, as I’m certain no harm will come of it.” She smiled to herself at her cleverness. This secret could show the girls she was on their side.

Ten steps down the path, she thought of the horses. She paused, turned back, and saw the girls both standing there gaping at her. “Hurry along and secure the horses,” she ordered, even as something twinged in her chest. The girls frowned at her, but then reluctantly did as she bade them and moved to secure the horses to one of the trees that lined the path. Eve turned over the feeling in her chest. It was a pulsing knot of longing, she realized, watching the girls. She’d desperately wanted children and a family of her own to lavish with all the love that was in her heart, and she’d never have that. Her throat tightened, but she swallowed her sadness. There was no place for it here. Sad or not, her situation could not be changed.

She didn’t need to ask the girls for directions to the seer Eolande, as the path was clear to follow, and so she did. The weathered rocks rose with each step, narrowing the path on either side of her. She glanced back every few breaths to ensure the girls were still there because the thick grass hushed their footsteps. The girls looked as nervous as she felt. Their lips were pressed into firm lines, and they clutched each other’s hands. Bravado. That’s what they had been showing her.

The farther along the path they walked, the warmer the air became, and then the rocks beside Eve gave way once more to a wide expanse of rolling hills, this time covered in jaw-dropping purple heather. She stopped to stare, drinking in the beauty, until someone poked her in the back.

She glanced behind her to find Lenora nibbling on her lip. “We kinnae afford to linger. ’Tis nae good to be out so far from Dunvegan after dark, and it will be dark before we reach the castle once more.”

Eve frowned. “Your father will be furious.”

“Aye,” Lenora said, giving Eve an unapologetic look.

“You meant to incite his anger at me.”

“Aye,” Lenora said while Lillith shifted from foot to foot beside her, looking decidedly guilty.

Eve set her hands on her hips. “You’ll not run me off, Lenora.”

“We’ll see,” the girl said, her chin rising.

Eve let out a sigh. “Come along, then. Let’s make haste. I can bear your father’s anger, but if anything happened to you, I could not bear that.”

The only response was a snort from behind her, but Eve had expected no less. This would take time, and that was something Eve had plenty of.

Round stones dotted a stream that ran downhill, and Eve had to skip across them to get to the other side. She wanted to turn and offer help to the girls, but she ignored the urge, certain that Lenora would not welcome her help and Lillith would follow Lenora’s lead. Eve climbed the sharp, jagged terrain that the smooth, flowered hills gave way to and wiped sweat from her brow.

At the top of the first crest, the rocks and trees finally parted, revealing a light bluish-pink sky that sent a shiver of apprehension through her. Night was fast approaching. How had she not realized how long it had taken them to get here? She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she had been utterly careless and foolish. The girls’ tricks would not run her off but their father might. She imagined his worry when they did not appear for supper, and it made her stomach clench and her heartbeat pick up its pace.

Stretched out as far as she could see were peak after peak of sharp pinnacles of rock that pointed to the sky. To her right was a sharp decline into the most astonishing color of water she’d ever seen. Bright blue and green mixed to make the water, and she paused, unable to do more than stare in wonder.

“’Tis the Fairy Pools,” Lillith said at Eve’s back.

Eve gazed at the bubbling white water rushing from the waterfall above into the pool and managed a nod.

“The cave where Eolande lives is down there behind the falls,” Lenora said.

“All right.” Eve led them down the rocky embankment, and they picked their way around the edge of the pools and behind the icy sheet of the waterfall. Her foot slipped on a rock, and it plunged her halfway under the falling water, soaking her gown through. She let out a yelp and flailed her arms to gain her balance. Luckily, Lillith reached out and grabbed her, aiding her in not falling. Lillith gave Lenora an apologetic look, which made Eve want to laugh. They moved as one to the edge of the cave and stood, staring silently into the dark expanse. “What do we do now?” Eve whispered, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

“We call to her, I think,” Lenora whispered back, moving—unconsciously, Eve was certain—closer to Eve.

Eve cleared her throat and, recalling the name of the fae, called out, “Eolande, I bring two girls who wish to speak with you.”

Lenora poked Eve in the side. “I think ye must wish to speak with her, too.”

Eve didn’t. She truly didn’t, but she didn’t want to disappoint the girls so she cleared her throat once more and added, “Er, I wish to speak with you, as well.”

A deep, yet feminine, throaty chuckle came from the cave a breath before a woman appeared before them as if she’d been dropped there from the sky. Eve took a startled step back from the dark-haired woman whose vivid violet gaze was trained upon Eve. “The Lady of the Glen,” Eve whispered.

The woman hitched a raven eyebrow, and a wry smile twisted her lips. “Nay. That’s my sister ye met.”

“Ye met the Lady of the Glen!” the girls cried out. “She’s the most powerful seer—”

“I take objection to that,” the woman teased, her eyes twinkling. “I like to think I’m more powerful than my sister.” The seer’s gaze probed Eve. “I’ve been expecting ye.”

“Did your sister tell you I’d be coming?” Eve whispered.

Eolande chuckled once more. “Nay. I’ve nae seen her in an age, traveling as she does with the Summer Walkers. The wind carried yer scent to me. I did nae know who exactly approached, but I knew it was someone nae from these parts.”

“These are the MacLeod laird’s children,” Eve said, motioning to the twins and praying the wind didn’t tell this seer any other secrets about Eve.

“I’m Lenora.” The girl stepped forward and lifted her chin in a defiant gesture.

“Ye’ve the look of yer mother,” Eolande said.

“Ye knew our mother?” Lillith asked.

Something dark passed over the seer’s face. Eve saw it, and she glanced at the girls to see if they’d noticed, but they had such eager expressions on their faces at the idea of receiving any crumbs about their mother that Eve knew they hadn’t seen the look of distaste. Or at least that’s what Eve believed she’d seen.

“I knew her only from a visit she paid me. I met her but the once, and I’m sorry for yer loss of her, but ye have yer father still, aye?”

The girls exchanged a look of sadness that one would have been blind to miss.

The seer nodded. “He’s laird and, therefore, verra busy.” She placed a hand on each girl’s head, and Eolande stilled completely as a flush spread over her chest, visible from the plain white léine she wore. The heat crawled up her neck to color her face. Her eyes seemed to glow silver as she stared at the girls in silence for one breath, which turned to two, then morphed into ten before she spoke again. “Be careful of what longing makes ye do. Ye may turn away the verra one who can help ye obtain what ye seek.”

With that, Eolande dropped her hands from the girls’ heads and focused her attention on Eve. “What brings ye to me?”

Eve’s skin prickled with the intensity of the woman’s stare, and her mouth felt suddenly too dry to speak. “The girls brought me here because they want something from you.”

“Oh aye?” the seer said as she focused on the girls, but her eyes held a look of knowing that made Eve certain and wary that the seer had seen what they wanted when she’d touched the twins.

“We wish ye to give us some of the magic wine from the Luran’s horn for our da to use,” Lenora said.

The seer’s full lips twisted into a wry smile. “But yer da does nae wish it, does he?”

“Nae currently,” Lenora said, an unspoken protest in her voice. “But he is in the process of being bewitched.”

Eve flinched at that accusation.

“Bewitched!” Eolande exclaimed. “By whom?” But her unwavering gaze bore into Eve, and suddenly, she reached out and grabbed Eve’s hand. Eve’s heart dropped to her stomach with a sureness that the seer would see all her secrets. The woman’s eyes burned bright, and her grip tightened almost painfully around Eve’s wrist.

“By Abigail,” Lenora said, her gaze accusing.

“Abigail, is it?” Eolande asked, hitching both her eyebrows high.

Eve forced herself to nod, and the seer snorted but leaned so close to Eve that when the woman exhaled, Eve got a whiff of something sweet, like ripe berries upon the seer’s breath.

“Abigail,” Eolande said, rolling the l’s in such a way that they dragged out overly long. “Abigail, do you know what the MacLeod clan’s motto is?”

Eve shook her head.

“’Tis ‘Hold fast,’” the seer said. “’Tis what he will do if ye be but truthful when the time comes.”

“You’re not seeing correctly,” Eve whispered, thinking of her hopeless situation. And whyever did Eve assume the seer was even speaking of Royce?

Before she could ponder that, Eolande spoke again. “I see perfectly,” she said. “’Tis ye who do nae know the truth of yer own situation. But I tell ye this now: only harm can come of holding in yer secrets.” Eolande released Eve and focused on the girls. “I’ll nae be giving ye the wine. If yer da wants it, he’ll come for it. Now off with ye. Ye’ve invited trouble to yerselves by coming here, but lucky for both of ye, ye have Abigail here to look out for ye. She’ll give ye exactly what ye need.”

Lenora frowned. “We do nae want anything from Abigail but for her to go away.”

Eolande pressed her lips together for a moment, then cupped Lenora’s chin. “Careful what ye wish for, Lenora. Ye may find yer foolish wishes come true. Off with the three of ye now,” the seer said again, waving a hand at them. “And make haste. The night falls fast, and it holds harbingers of ill intent.”

The prickle that had been at the back of Eve’s neck swept down her spine in a tingling path that made her cold toes curl in her slippers. “How long will it take to return to Dunvegan Castle?” she asked Eolande, wishing she’d paid better heed on the way here.

The seer clutched Eve’s forearm. “Ye’ll nae be making Dunvegan this night, Abigail. But hold fast to hope.”

“Hold fast to hope,” Eve muttered to herself not half an hour later as she clutched the reins of her horse and cast a furtive glance around the fast-darkening woods. The temperature had dropped alarmingly quick as the sun fled the sky. An owl hooted above her from somewhere in the thick, twisting tree branches, and the noise seemed to have an ominous quality to it. How had she been so foolish as to allow the girls to dupe her and then to have continued the journey here after she had realized they’d done so? She should have turned back. It had taken hours to get here, and they had no hope of making it back to Dunvegan before nightfall. If they survived the trip back, Royce would likely kill her for risking his children’s safety. Though he was partly to blame that they were in this situation. She had tried to tell him, after all.

“I’m hungry,” Lillith complained from ahead of Eve. “If we do nae pick up the pace we will miss supper completely!”

“Ye’re such a clot-heid,” Lenora said. “We are going to miss supper regardless. We’ve ages until we reach home. Da will be furious. We should make greater haste, Abigail.”

“No,” Eve said, keeping firm to the orders she’d given them when they’d reached their horses after leaving Eolande. “I want to gallop home, as well,” Eve said, trying to keep her voice calm so the girls would not know just how anxious she was becoming. “But if we go too fast in the dark, we risk injury.”

Behind her, a stick snapped. Eve’s chest constricted, and she glanced behind her, but the path was empty save for the growing shadows. Still, the hairs on the back of her neck rose, and the sensation of being watched danced down her spine. She clutched her reins so tightly, the leather bit into the tender skin of her fingers. “Mayhap we should go a bit faster,” she said to the girls.

When the girls’ horse suddenly took off, Eve opened her mouth to protest, but a loud rustle above her had her jerking her gaze up. Just as she did, something dropped from the darkness. Eve didn’t even get out the scream that rose up in her throat before she was knocked to the ground with such jarring force that she was rendered temporarily speechless. But when Laird MacNeil suddenly loomed before her, the lodged scream broke free and rang through the glen.

He deftly grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms over her pounding head. “Hush now, lass. Save the screaming for our marriage bed to show me yer pleasure.” He laughed cruelly. “Yearger,” MacNeil said to someone who must have been standing behind her. “Go after MacLeod’s children. He’ll learn soon enough how my retribution feels.”

Without thought to the repercussions to herself, Eve screamed. “Flee, girls, flee! Fetch hel—”

MacNeil slapped a meaty palm over Eve’s mouth so hard that her lip split and blood filled her mouth.

“I see ye’re in need of a lesson on listening to a man’s orders,” he said just before his palm connected with the side of her face, sending her into darkness.