Thea clutched the seat of the otherwise empty coach, but her shoulder still banged into the coach’s side as one of the wheels dropped into yet another gouge in the road. Could it even be called a road anymore? She drew back the curtain on the square window and took in the darkening landscape.

The rain had ceased several hours ago, but the path they traveled was clearly sodden, for flecks of mud kicked up from the wheels and dotted the window, obscuring her view somewhat. The softly rolling hills and moorlands of northern England and the Scottish Lowlands had given way to craggy mountains, which emerged around them like ghosts through the mist as they lurched on. Clumps of dark trees lay in the hollows between peaks, some even daring to cling to the lighter-colored rocky outcroppings along the slopes.

The flat light of the fading day cast everything in blues, grays, and browns. Thea scanned for anything familiar, anything inviting, but all she saw was this desolate, grim landscape.

Just then, the coach’s wheel slammed into another divot. Thea’s head smacked against the side of the coach. With a sharp intake of breath, she brought her hand up. There was no blood, of course, only a rapidly forming lump on the side of her head. Pressing her lips together, she squeezed her reticule with her other hand, comforting herself with the sound of crinkling paper.

Yes, she had been sent for. Yes, there was a position waiting for her here in the Highlands. The missive signed by the Earl of Kinfallon himself was proof of that. She ran over the details of her new assignment to give her mind something to do while her body fought not to be flung across the coach as they made a sharp turn.

The earl had contacted her directly several weeks ago. Thea had no idea how he’d found her, but she was grateful, for her previous post as governess to the Braxtons in York was about to end. Gertrude, her charge, had turned thirteen and was in need of a finishing governess to teach her the ways of society before her debut in a few years’ time.

In his note of inquiry, the earl had mentioned that his younger sister was in need of Thea’s abilities and asked if Thea was willing to travel to the Highlands for the job.

That had given her pause. Weren’t there governesses in Scotland for the young sisters of earls? She’d shelved that question, though, for the offer held a…particular appeal. She knew not a soul in Scotland, and the Highlands were about as far away from London as she could get without boarding a ship. York had been a good start, but the more distance that separated her from her past, the better.

Besides, she would have had to arrange employment for herself in a matter of months anyway. It was rare for a governess to be sought out by an employer and not the other way around—perhaps Thea was finally making strides toward the type of positive reputation that would keep her employed for years to come.

The coach suddenly creaked to a halt. Thea let a relieved breath go. Not only was this rough ride finally at an end, but they must have reached Kinfallon Castle, for the driver had told her they would make it there before nightfall.

The coach door popped open and she accepted the driver’s hand down, but as she glanced up, instead of a keep fit for an earl, she was met with a two-storey wooden inn.

“This isn’t…”

“Beg pardon, miss,” the driver said, moving to the back of the coach for her single trunk. “This is as far as I can go tonight. The fog will make the passage difficult, and I fear I’ll break an axle on these roads.”

Thea stood, stunned. “But we were to reach the castle today.”

“Apologies, miss. Ye can stay at the inn for the night, I’m sure.” The driver hoisted her trunk onto his shoulder and began making his way toward the inn’s door without waiting for her.

She bit her lip against both her sharp disappointment and the dull aches in her body. Gingerly lifting her skirts a few inches above the mud, she hurried after the driver. He’d already entered the inn by the time she reached the door.

Lantern light made her squint as she stepped inside. The few patrons in the inn’s common room fell silent, turning to her with assessing eyes. The driver was just setting down her trunk next to a high counter behind which a man, presumably the innkeeper, stood wiping a mug.

“The lass is headed to the castle,” he said, jerking his thumb back at her without looking.

“Another one?” the innkeeper muttered, fixing her with a scrutinizing stare.

A few of the others in the inn’s main room began to murmur, still watching her.

Thea swallowed but straightened her spine and stepped before the innkeeper. “I am Miss Reynolds, here to serve as governess to the Earl of Kinfallon’s sister.”

The muttering around her rose. She caught the words “madwoman in the tower” passing between two men at a nearby table.

“Governess?” The innkeeper snorted. “I dinnae ken what the earl’s sister needs a governess for, but that is none of my business. Ye are welcome to stay for the night, lass. Tam here will no doubt be able to get ye up to the castle tomorrow morning.” He nodded toward the driver.

Uncertainty niggled at her. The inn was clean and safe enough, but she’d spent the last fortnight on the road, rattling around in coaches by day and sleeping in a different inn each night. She hadn’t realized just how eager she was to reach her post until now. She longed to get settled, to ease the aches and bruises with a bath, to meet her new charge—and her mysterious employer.

“How far is the castle?” she asked.

The innkeeper looked at her quizzically. “Only a few miles up the road,” he said, waving vaguely with the rag in his hand.

That decided it. A walk and some fresh air would do her good after being cooped up in coaches for the last fortnight. Besides, it might help her clear her head and settle her stomach after the rough ride today.

“If you’re able to keep my trunk for the night, I’ll walk,” she said.

Now both the innkeeper and the driver were giving her skeptical stares.

“I’ll be grateful for the air and exercise,” she went on, growing uneasy under their looks. “And I’ll send for the trunk first thing tomorrow.”

“Are ye sure, miss?” the driver asked.

Resolved, she nodded. “Yes, very. Thank you both for your assistance.”

Before their puzzled gazes could make her question her decision, she tilted her head and turned to leave.

Outside, she pulled her cloak closed at the front against the cold fog. Though narrow and pocked with holes, the road was easy enough to make out. She knew which way they’d come, so she continued on as it wound away from the little inn.

Thea swung her gaze as she walked, for her modest bonnet cut off her peripheral vision. There wasn’t much to see, though. A few huts emerged from the mist closer to the inn, but within moments, they fell away, leaving only the darkening trees and the muddy path ahead.

Soon the road grew narrower—and steep. She understood now why the driver hadn’t wanted to risk this trek. Sharp turns materialized from the fog only a few feet in front of her. The path was not only rutted and holey from the rain, but occasionally a large rock or even a tree branch lay across the way. She picked her footing carefully, her breath growing short as she ascended.

Perhaps she’d been rash to leave the inn and make her way on foot to the earl’s castle. This was no stroll through the English countryside, after all. Night was falling swiftly, making the gloomy fog all the more difficult to navigate. Yes, her limbs relished the exertion, but her head still throbbed faintly where she’d hit it against the coach’s wall. Her cloak had already grown heavy with the cold mist, and her boots—her only pair—were now caked with mud.

A noise in the distance made her still, her breath puffing white in front of her. She strained to hear over the hammering of her own heart. Had that been a branch snapping? The fog muted the sound, making her uncertain where the noise had come from.

Silly, she chided herself. Now was no time for gothic fancies. Thea prided herself on being practical—and strong, though she knew she didn’t look it to others. She was petite, true, but there were many different kinds of strength. It was not in her nature to be caught in a mental flight of over-imagination.

She trudged on, but another noise made her freeze a moment later. A low rumbling—no, not so much a noise as a feeling. The ground vibrated beneath her boots.

Thea whirled just in time to see an enormous horse emerge from the mist directly behind her—an enormous horse bearing a kilted rider on its back.

Panic spiked hard in her stomach. They were barreling toward her at a gallop. The few meager feet separating them were being eaten away by the horse’s powerful hooves even as she stood frozen with shock.

A scream rose in her throat. She couldn’t seem to move fast enough—as if her limbs were suspended in molasses.

The rider at last seemed to notice her. “Whoa!” He yanked hard on the reins, making the horse skid in the mud. The animal reared wildly, whinnying in fright.

Thea flung herself to the side just as the horse’s hooves carved the air where she’d been standing. She landed hard on her side, the air slamming from her lungs.

A string of curses filled her ringing ears as the rider thumped to the ground next to her.

“What the bloody hell—”

Suddenly big, warm hands latched around her shoulders and dragged her up to sitting. She blinked into the rugged face of the angry rider.

Dark stubble covered the angular lines of his jaw. His firm mouth was turned down, and the low-drawn angle of his black eyebrows made his scowl even fiercer. Unbound, near-black hair rested on his broad shoulders, one lock curling damply against his forehead.

He blinked too, his dark green eyes clouding with confusion as if he were realizing she was a woman for the first time.

“What the hell are ye doing on this road?” he demanded, the blunt words making Thea wonder if she’d misread the surprise in his eyes a heartbeat before.

“I am the governess,” she blurted. Perhaps she had bumped her head harder than she thought in the coach earlier, or else the fright from the rider’s sudden appearance had scrambled her brains. She drew a deep, painful breath into her battered lungs.

“I am Miss Reynolds,” she tried again. “The Earl of Kinfallon sent for me to work with his sister.”

Something flickered in the depths of those forest-colored eyes. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” she said, reaching for the calm self-assurance that normally came so easily to her. But something about the way this strange man was looking at her, as if he could see straight through to her wildly beating heart, set her nerves on edge.

He swept her with his gaze. “Are ye all right? Ye took quite a fall.”

“I am unhurt,” she breathed, acutely aware of his large hands, which still lingered on her shoulders. “And you? Your horse?”

“Unhurt,” he replied. He blinked again, as if coming out of a daze. “We need to get ye out of this damned fog and to the castle.”

Without waiting for a response from her, he slid one arm behind her back and the other under her knees. She gasped as he rose to his feet, lifting her and holding her to his chest. Unbidden, her arms looped around his neck, her fingers curling in his unbound hair.

He set her atop his horse, which had calmed considerably, then smoothly swung into the saddle behind her. To Thea’s shock, once he was settled, he pulled her across his lap so that she was firmly tucked against him, her legs dangling over one of his powerful thighs.

His arms looped around her as he took up the reins and urged the horse on, thankfully only at a walk.

At the edge of her bonnet, she could see the green and blue checked plaid he wore around his waist. His coat looked to be made of coarse wool, and he wore no cravat, his off-white shirt open at the neck.

Thea tried to remain stiff, to put at least a hair’s breadth of respectable distance between their bodies. A governess was the moral center of a nobleman’s household. How would it look to arrive at her new employer’s doorstep in the arms of some strange Scotsman?

But the motion of the horse’s steps drove their bodies together time and again. Her shoulder bumped into the man’s broad, hard chest until she was sure she’d have a bruise there tomorrow. And her bottom… Heaven help her, her bottom was perched on his steely thigh, shifting ever so slightly against him with the horse’s hoof falls.

Ahead of them, two stone towers began to materialize from the fog like black slashes against the gray sky. Blessedly, the sight of the castle tore her thoughts away from the Scotsman. Thea strained to make out more of the structure, but the combination of darkness and mist made it seem ghostly and ephemeral.

At last, they crested the rise they’d been climbing and Thea got her first full look at the castle. She sucked in a breath at what she saw.

The main keep was low and squarish, with two round towers jutting up from it, one on the north side and the other, closer one on the south. Each tower was perhaps four storeys high and capped with a crenelated battlement. Arrow slits made black tick marks in the gray stone. Surrounding both the keep and the towers was a circle of crumbling rock that once must have served as the castle’s curtain wall.

This was no luxurious residence for a pampered nobleman. This was a fortress—one that looked to be four or five hundred years old.

The rider guided his horse through an opening in the disintegrating wall, then reined the animal to a halt a dozen paces from the enormous iron-banded wooden door leading into the keep.

As he dismounted, Thea scrambled for her wits.

“Thank you for escorting me the rest of the way to the castle,” she said. “I’m sure my employer will be grateful to you.”

He cocked a dark eyebrow at her as he reached to pull her down. “I’m sure he will,” he murmured, wrapping his hands around her waist and drawing her from the horse’s back.

Leaving one hand at her waist, he lifted two fingers to his mouth and whistled. A stable lad came scurrying from behind the keep, where Thea assumed the stables lay, and gathered up the man’s horse.

Strange. Was the rider some sort of acquaintance of the earl’s?

Just then, the door creaked open and an older woman bustled out into the foggy twilight.

“Welcome back, my lord,” the woman said, then faltered. “And who are ye?” she asked Thea.

Unease coiling in her belly, Thea replied. “I am Miss Reynolds, the earl’s new governess.”

She turned slowly to the man who had almost run her down on the road, who had lifted her as if she weighed no more than a leaf, and who had held her close as they’d ridden to the castle.

“And I am Edmund MacLainn,” he said, watching her with inscrutable eyes. “Earl of Kinfallon.”