Chapter 1
For a while, none of them moved. The wind swept across the lonely Highland road, stirring the hem of Merith’s cloak and carrying with it the scent of wet heather and blood.
Duncan still lay beside the shattered wheel, his gray hair damp with rainwater, while one frightened horse stamped nervously against the traces.
Merith forced herself to breathe. One breath… then another… then one more.
If she allowed herself to look at Duncan for too long, she feared she would crumble entirely.
The stranger seemed to understand that without being told. He remained close enough to help her if needed, yet not so close that she felt crowded. His sword still hung in one hand, dark with mud and rain, though the ease with which he held it suggested he scarcely noticed the weapon’s weight.
Shona dabbed frantically at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve.
“Saints preserve us,” she whispered. “Saints preserve us…”
Merith swallowed against the tightness in her throat and finally managed, “Thank ye.”
The stranger glanced toward her. “Fer what?”
“Saving us,” she replied.
A faint shrug lifted one broad shoulder beneath his weatherworn coat. “’Tis what any man would have done.”
Somehow, Merith doubted that. Any man might have ridden away from danger rather than toward it. Any sensible man certainly would not have charged alone into a fight against five armed brigands. Yet, this stranger had done exactly that.
“Well, most men would have been stabbed fer the trouble,” Shona commented, sniffing.
The rogue’s mouth curved slightly. “Aye. There is that.”
In that moment, Merith felt the faintest tug at her lips. The absurdity of it nearly startled her. Duncan was dead and their carriage was ruined. They stood stranded upon an empty road miles away from safety… and still this man made the darkness feel less crushing.
He glanced toward the heavy sky before sliding his sword back into its sheath. “Ye shouldnae remain here long.”
Merith forced herself to focus as she glanced around the area. “Where are we?”
“A fair distance from anythin’ useful,” he replied. “The nearest village lies at least two hours east if the roads arenae flooded. Carnegie lands are farther north.”
At the mention of Carnegie, Shona straightened quickly. Merith saw the subtle change in the stranger’s expression at once. It wasn’t fear, but an emotion closer to interest.
She gathered the remains of her composure as best she could, smoothing trembling fingers over the front of her muddied gown.
“I am Merith Donalson,” she said quietly. “Daughter of Laird Donalson.”
The rogue inclined his head politely.
“I must reach Carnegie Keep,” she continued. “I am to meet the laird.”
“Aye?” he chuckled, raising a single brow. “And how d’ye expect tae stroll into a laird’s keep, lass?”
Before Merith could answer, Shona bristled.
“You, lad, speak tae his betrothed,” the maid snapped. “Show some respect.”
The stranger blinked. Then his entire demeanour changed at once, smooth as silk slipping over steel.
“My apologies, my lady.” He swept into an exaggerated bow that somehow managed to be both mocking and charming all at once. “Lachlan Reid. At yer service. Everybody calls me Locke.”
Merith studied him carefully now that he had a name. Lachlan Reid. It suited him strangely well.
There was something restless about the man.
It was difficult to pin down. Though his clothes were plain compared to noblemen she had known, they were well-made beneath the dirt the weather had brought upon him.
His boots had been repaired more than once, and the dagger on his belt bore signs of frequent use.
Yet his speech lacked the roughness of common mercenaries.
Educated, then. Or clever enough to sound it.
Shona crossed her arms. “We ken nothin’ aboot him.”
“A wise observation,” Locke said lightly. “Though if I meant ye harm, lass, I chose a verra poor moment tae save ye.”
Suspiciously, Shona narrowed her eyes.
Merith found herself asking, “What brings ye tae this road, Master Reid?”
“A horse.” His blue eyes gleamed faintly. “And poor judgment.”
She stared at him for a moment before realizing he was teasing… again. The man answered serious questions as though life itself amused him.
Yet beneath the humor she sensed a watchfulness. He was careful as though he revealed only exactly what he wished others to see.
Locke glanced toward the damaged carriage. “Ye cannae travel farther in that.”
One wheel had splintered badly during the attack. The carriage leaned crookedly in the mud, its elegant blue paint scratched and cracked. Shona followed his gaze and groaned softly.
“Och, Lady Merith…” she said with a shaky sigh.
Merith closed her eyes at the sight like she was trying to pretend it wasn’t there. Her parents had spent dearly on the journey, and now Duncan was dead because of it. Guilt twisted painfully through her chest.
As though sensing the direction of her thoughts, Locke’s voice gentled again. “Dinnae blame yourself fer what happened here.”
She opened her eyes and they flew to his. “I dinnae say I blamed myself.”
“Nay.” His gaze held hers steadily. “Ye didnae need to.”
Heat rose unexpectedly in her face, though whether from irritation or embarrassment she could not tell.
The stranger looked away first, sparing her from answering.
“We’ve little choice,” he said. “If you mean tae reach Carnegie lands before nightfall, ye’ll need to ride.”
Shona frowned immediately. “Ride? On what?”
Locke gestured towards the surviving horses. “The brigands cut one trace loose before I arrived, but these two remain sound enough.”
Merith glanced uncertainly at the animals. One chestnut mare trembled beside the broken carriage, her ears flicking nervously.
Shona’s expression turned wary again. “And ye propose tae escort us alone?”
“Aye,” he answered simply.
“We cannae trust ye,” she reminded him.
“That is likely wise as well.”
Merith blinked at the easy agreement. Most men would have protested innocence. Locke merely leaned casually against the carriage as though discussing the weather.
“At least ye admit it,” Shona said, huffing in disbelief.
He grinned. “Och, I’ve many flaws, lass, but dishonesty is rarely useful when obvious.”
Merith kept her eyes on him like she was trying to decide whether it was a good idea to follow him at all. Every instinct told her Shona was right. They knew nothing about this man beyond the fact he wielded a sword exceedingly well and smiled far too easily.
But what choice did they truly possess?
The road stretched empty in both directions. Rain clouds gathered once more above the hills. They could not remain stranded beside Duncan’s body for another band of thieves to appear.
Despite her better judgment, something within her trusted Locke already. She might have been wrong to do so, but in this situation, there wasn’t much else she could do.
Shona leaned closer and whispered fiercely near her ear, “My lady, he could be a murderer fer all we ken.”
Merith lowered her voice in return, keeping her eyes on Locke. “He saved us.”
“Even if he risked his life, my lady, we cannae trust him,” Shona said back.
“Aye, handsome men often dae foolish things,” Merith observed, clearly oblivious to the loudness in her voice.
Locke’s mouth twitched instantly and Shona slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Handsome?” he repeated softly.
Heat rushed violently into Merith’s cheeks. “I didnae—”
“Och, dinnae fash, my lady,” he said, grinning at her. “I’ve been called much worse.”
Beside her, Shona giggled nervously. Meanwhile, Merith wished the muddy road might swallow her whole.
The rogue pushed away from the carriage, still looking entirely too pleased. “Come then. We should move before the weather worsens.”
He began untying the horses from the broken carriage with swift movements. Merith watched him silently for a moment. Even simple tasks seemed effortless in his hands. Strong fingers worked deftly through tangled leather straps while the nervous horses gradually calmed beneath his murmured words.
“Ye handle them well,” she said without thinking.
Locke glanced back over his shoulder. “Horses?”
“Aye,” she replied.
“They’re easier than people,” he commented.
His answer made her unexpectedly curious, but before she could ask further, Shona suddenly gasped.
“What aboot our trunks?” she asked.
Quickly, the maid rushed toward the scattered luggage. One chest had burst open during the attack, spilling gowns and blankets into the mud.
Automatically, Merith followed her and knelt down to help gather them.
At once, Locke crossed toward her. “Leave that tae men.”
“I am perfectly capable—”
“Aye, I can see that.” His gaze flicked meaningfully toward her muddied skirts. “But ye’ve had enough hardship fer one day.”
Without waiting for permission, he lifted the heavier trunk as though it weighed nothing.
Merith stared at him without blinking.
Together they salvaged what little they could carry. One smaller satchel held Merith’s books and writing papers, while another had her spare gowns. Most of the food stores had been ruined when the carriage overturned, though.
The reality of their situation loomed over her with every passing moment. They were alone and stranded. Not to mention completely dependent upon a stranger. No matter how nice he was acting toward them, Merith wanted to keep her walls up.
Once the horses were freed, Locke secured the remaining bags behind his saddle before turning toward the women.
“Right then,” he said, glancing between them. “Which o’ ye rides best?”
Shona raised her hand cautiously. “I dae.”
Merith hesitated and Locke noticed immediately.
“Dinnae tell me…” amusement crept into his voice, “the laird’s daughter cannae ride.”
“I can sit upon a horse well enough,” Merith replied defensively.
“Sit, aye,” Locke said, grinning from ear to ear. “Ride?”
Quickly, she looked away. Fortunately for her, Shona answered instead.
“Her mother feared she’d break her neck climbin’ cliffs and racin’ through glens,” she said.
“I nearly did once,” Merith muttered.
Locke barked a surprising laugh. “Well then. That explains much.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What precisely does it explain?”
“That ye’ve the spirit o’ a reckless lad trapped inside a lady’s gown,” he joked.
Merith ought to have been offended. Instead, another reluctant smile tugged at her lips.
Shona climbed awkwardly atop the smaller mare while Locke turned toward Merith. “We’ll share.”
The simple words sent an entirely inappropriate flutter through her stomach. Before she could protest, he stepped closer and held out his hands. “Come, lass.”
She hesitated only a moment before placing her hands in his. Warmth instantly closed around her fingers. Her heart began to race. It thudded hard against her ribcage.
Then suddenly, she was rising effortlessly upward. A startled breath escaped her as Locke lifted her onto the horse as though she weighed no more than a child. Her skirts settled awkwardly across the saddle while she clutched at the pommel for balance.
Locke swung up behind her in one smooth motion. Straightaway, heat surrounded her from every side. His chest pressed close against her back. One strong arm reached around her waist for the reins while his knees bracketed her hips securely against the horse.
Merith went utterly still. She had never sat this close to a man before.
Locke seemed entirely unaffected. “Comfortable?”
“Nay,” she said honestly.
A low laugh rumbled softly behind her. “Fair enough.”
Shona rolled her eyes from atop the other mare. “If ye drop her, Laird Carnegie may hang ye.”
“Then I shall try verra hard nae tae,” Locke responded.
The horse moved beneath them, and Merith found herself grabbing Locke’s forearm. Strong muscle tightened beneath her fingers. Then her gaze drifted unwillingly toward Duncan’s limp body once more. The laughter vanished from her chest instantly.
“What about…” Her voice faltered. “What about them?”
Shona looked down quickly. The bodies of the fallen brigands still lay scattered near the roadside, alongside Duncan.
Locke’s expression sobered.
“The animals will take care o’ them soon enough,” he said quietly. “Or travelers will find them come mornin’.”
Merith swallowed hard. A tear slipped silently down her cheek before she could stop it. She turned her face away at once, ashamed of the weakness.
Yet behind her, Locke felt that single tear like a blade against his ribs. For reasons he did not entirely understand, the sight of this proud wee lass grieving beside the ruined carriage stirred something dangerous and protective inside him.