The cross above the bell tower of Courlochcraig Abbey rose high over the old town of Ayr, casting shadows on the five faces looking up at it.

Rob surveyed the perimeter carefully while Colin dismounted and swung open the heavy iron gate that barred their entrance. The Abbey sat perched atop an old motte and bailey foundation, probably built in the days before the Norman invasion. From the vantage point along the tower, one could see in every direction, from the majestic peaks of Arran to the Mull of Kintyre behind. There were few trees to obscure the presence of an enemy, and the Auld Brig, being the main crossing into the port town, was well in sight. He had no army, but at least he could see one coming for leagues.

“Rob?”

He cut his sharp gaze to his brother standing beside the gate, waiting for him to bring Davina through.

“The Abbess approaches.” Colin gestured toward a tall, thin woman exiting the convent with four other nuns hurrying to keep up. All were garbed from foot to crown in gray and white habit, arms folded across their waists, hands tucked into their wide sleeves.

Women, Rob reminded himself glumly. Who would protect them if Davina’s enemies found her here?

“Good day, Mother,” Colin greeted with a reverential bow.

The Abbess stepped past the young Highlander without a glance in his direction. Her gray eyes were as pale and as cool as the stone walls behind her, and they were fixed on Davina while Rob helped her dismount. Encased in stiff white wool, the Abbess’s thin face remained impassive while her gaze skimmed Davina’s robes, her unveiled head, and her hand clutching the arm of the giant Highlander beside her. Her eyes lingered on their touch long enough for Davina to let him go.

“Lady Montgomery,” the Abbess said without even the subtlest shift in her tone to suggest she knew Davina in any way other than that she was already expecting her.

At the mention of her surname, Rob felt Davina go rigid at his side before she nodded her head. He looked down at her in time to catch the cautious glance she cast the Abbess.

“Where is Captain Asher?” the Abbess asked, turning her attention to Rob for the first time and validating his first assumption. “I was under the belief that he would be escorting my guest to Courlochcraig.”

“St. Christopher’s was attacked, Reverend Mother. Captain Asher has perished.”

Only a hint of the pain he had just caused her flashed across her eyes before she lowered them to the ground. “And the sisters?”

“I regret to inform ye that they have also perished.” Rob gentled his voice for Davina’s sake, as well as the Abbess’s.

The Abbess crossed herself, paused, most likely in prayer, and then raised her dried gaze to Rob’s. “Who are you?”

“I am Robert MacGregor of the clan MacGregor. These men are—”

He did not get the chance to finish his introduction. The Abbess, holding up her palm, stopped him. “MacGregors. God be with us.” If she meant to insult them further, she must have decided to do so later, for her face finally softened when she reached for Davina. “Come inside, child. You will find refuge here.” She gathered Davina in her arms then turned to Rob. “There is food and drink inside. You and your men may take your rest before you tell me how she came into your possession.”

The Abbess had been expecting Davina, Rob thought as he took up his steps behind the women. Asher or the Abbess at St. Christopher’s must have penned her a missive. That would mean they knew her enemies were on the way. But how could they have known, and why hadn’t they all fled before it was too late? Who the hell was Davina Montgomery that she should be protected by not only the Royal army, but by the Church as well? Whatever the answers were, she was in great danger. How could he leave her here, defenseless? When she turned to look at him over her shoulder, as if to make certain he was still with her, Rob knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Captain Edward Asher was a resourceful man. If Davina was still alive, he had to find her before Gilles did. And the Admiral would find her… eventually. Finally exposed to the world, people were going to take notice of Davina Montgomery. They would question why a woman of such radiance was clothed in nun’s robes. Though she would never tell the world her secrets, she was kind and outgoing, and those who met her would remember her, mayhap enough to describe for Gilles, should he question them.

Edward had to find her. He had to warn her—and MacGregor if she was with him—that her enemies did not think her dead and were now, in fact, hunting her.

He couldn’t do that on foot, and since the stable as well as the Abbey had been burned to the ground, he had to find a horse and a stream to cleanse himself of the blood of battle before he went searching through towns and villages for her.

It didn’t take him long to find both when he came upon a small bothy nestled within a stand of trees. The well provided fresh water, and the steed tethered to the low front gate would provide speed. He washed quickly, filling the well’s bucket and dunking his head twice. He leaped upon the horse just as the door of the bothy swung open. The shouting man rushing through it gave Edward pause only long enough to slip the heavy ring from his left index finger and toss it to the tenant.

“Payment for your horse, good man.”

He was not worthy to wear the royal signet anyway. Everyone at the Abbey was dead. His men… the sisters. He prayed Davina would forgive him. He prayed for just one more chance to prove his devotion to her.