Earl Remington’s castle sat high atop a hill overlooking the River Eden, surrounded on three sides by thick, green forest of what appeared to be birch, asher, and elm trees. They would soon turn from green to a riot of colors which Brice nearly wished he would be there to see when the time came.

The castle walls were a pearly gray and gleamed in the midday sun, towering high into the sky. Even at a distance, it was impressive, reminding Brice of nothing so much as a shining jewel.

“That is where you’ll make your home?” Quinn asked, slack-jawed.

Alana merely nodded. Her skin was paler than normal, the dark circles under her eyes standing out in contrast. It looked as though she’d been awake through the night.

Brice could barely stand to look at her.

“I suppose it is,” she whispered as they continued the ride along a winding road which cut through farm-studded fields.

A few of the modest houses were near enough to the road that they who lived inside watched the procession. A freckle-faced young lad, whose smile revealed his missing front teeth, waved to them and followed alongside until his mother called him back.

“They know who ye are and are anxious to see ye for themselves, the new bride of their earl,” Fergus observed. His arm was strong enough that he could ride on his own, leaving Alana with a horse which they’d purchased for her from the stable in the village.

A gift from them, Rodric had announced. To celebrate her wedding.

She’d barely managed to stop herself from crying.

The bundle of clothing and personal items she’d brought with her from home sat behind her in the saddle, and Brice realized he was looking at everything she owned in the world. Her mother’s wedding gown, a kirtle or two, stockings, a linen shift.

And the horse she’d been gifted that morning.

It was a sorry image, to be sure, and he felt worse than ever as he watched her ride along with her head as high as she could manage. Prideful, willful. She would not be humiliating herself again.

At least, not in front of them.

How he knew this, Brice could not tell. It was a sense he got from the lass, was all. He’d certainly had enough time to think about her and about everything he had not been at liberty to tell her in those terrible, painful, embarrassing moments in her room.

Such as how badly he’d wanted to give in and throw caution to the wind. To accept what would come after he’d had her for himself. To promise her anything and everything in the world so long as he could give in to what his body and soul so desperately craved.

Better men than he had found themselves in unenviable situations after giving in during moments of madness.

It was for the best that he had managed to control himself.

Perhaps if he repeated this enough, he would believe it.

The brown mare which Alana rode made a striking sight, prancing almost proudly down the road. As though it knew where it was going, how important the woman it carried. He’d chosen it for her himself, the white star on its forehead making it stand out from the others.

The least he could do for her, as he was letting her down in so many ways.

It was madness, really, the fact that he cared at all. She would no longer be his responsibility once she crossed the threshold of Remington’s castle, which was more astounding the closer they came. It seemed to be built into the hill itself, the rocky surface meeting the stones which comprised the walls and nearly blending together. As though some ancient creature had carved it, rather than it having been built up by the hands of men.

They had hardly reached the edge of the forest, the alder and ash trees beginning to replace open field, when the pounding of hooves caught everyone’s attention.

“That took longer than I’d expected,” Rodric observed with a wry smile. “I expect they spotted us from one of the lookout towers.”

“And were waiting,” Fergus added. He looked apologetic. “I suppose they’ll have a great feast to celebrate your arrival, lass.”

To her credit, Alana attempted to smile, but that smile only served to make her look more pained than ever.

Within minutes, a half-dozen horses appeared, their riders pushing them to a hard gallop through the woods. Brice and the rest pulled up on the reins, waiting for the welcoming party to reach them.

“They look a bit fiercer than any welcoming party I’ve ever seen,” Quinn observed.

“Remington is asserting himself,” Rodric muttered. “And perhaps impressing his intended.”

“He might have done well to spare the effort,” Alana whispered.

The first of the riders reached them, a tall, healthy looking lad with a glow to his skin and a wide smile. Golden hair swept high off his forehead, glistening in the beams of light which filtered down through the trees.

This boded well, Brice thought. Remington’s men weren’t mere brutes.

A sobering thought occurred to him then. What if this was Earl Remington himself? Young, handsome, virile? Would that change anything for Alana?

And thus make leaving her more difficult than he’d imagined?

“Welcome,” the lad smiled. “Earl Remington sent us to escort you the rest of the way to the castle.” His eyes fell on Alana, who rode in the center of the group. “And you would be Alana Stewart, I presume?”

“Aye,” she murmured, nodding.

He bowed in the saddle, as did the men who waited behind him. “It is a pleasure and an honor to meet you. The earl has been most anxiously awaiting your arrival. All preparations have been made for the wedding celebration.” He looked around. “Let us proceed, then.”

Rodric and Brice exchanged a glance. Alana merely rode ahead, positioning herself between Remington’s men and her escorts.

Brice’s heart sank. She was already leaving him, in a way.

She was never his to lose.

He lifted his chin, determined to complete the mission Earl Remington had set for them.

“How were your travels?” the smiling young lad asked as they progressed.

“Lengthy,” Fergus snorted.

“You’ve been injured?” The lad spied Fergus’s bandaged arm.

“Aye. A boar. He came out the worse for it.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Just the same, you might visit the healer who lives within the castle walls. She can provide anything you may be in need of.”

“Many thanks.”

The lad raised his voice, likely for Alana’s benefit. “The castle affords every comfort and consideration. To my knowledge, there is not a single thing a countess would want for—though should you think of something, I’ve no doubt the earl would acquire it for you.”

A countess. Countess Remington. Hearing the title come from the lad’s mouth was a cold reminder, indeed. A reminder that she’d be a noblewoman, living in a castle where she might look down upon everything and everyone.

Including men such as himself.

Remington’s men were well-dressed, their fine tunics and trousers dyed the deepest red, their leather saddles shining. Each of them wore a gleaming sword, freshly-honed and polished. Their horses were beautiful creatures, sleek and muscular and well-groomed.

There was no reason to assume Remington would not be just as fine as the men and animals in his employ. Better, even.

While Brice was merely a Highlander.

He’d never thought little of his beginnings and never would, proud always of his Scottish blood and his strength and abilities.

It was Alana’s opinion he questioned. Surely, she would begin to see now what a grave mistake it would have been to align herself with a man such as himself when she had everything she might ever need at her fingertips.

The lad turned to him, still smiling, as they came out of the thickest of the forest and began the somewhat steeper climb up a long, curved road walled on both sides by jagged stone. It would take them to the castle’s courtyard. “I’ve been instructed to offer you the benefits of the earl’s hospitality, as well. Arrangements have been made for you to spend a few days outside the stables.”

Rodric coughed, Quinn sputtered, Fergus gave a sharp intake of breath.

Brice was neither surprised nor amused. “I’m certain we would be glad for the chance to rest,” he managed to reply with all the dignity he could muster.

“The stables?” Alana finally seemed to come to life, shooting a sharp look over her shoulder at Remington’s man. “There is not enough room in the castle keep for them?”

The lad chuckled. “It is not a matter a room, but rather one of the earl’s wishes. I’m certain he would be glad to make things clear to you himself.”

Brice stared at her, hard as he could, willing her to look at him. She’d hardly looked at him all day, but this was when he needed her to most. Do not question him, do not question him, do not cause trouble for our sakes. Make it easier on yourself.

She merely turned her attention back to the road, her shoulders squared in determination. Fergus cleared his throat to catch Brice’s eye, and his grimace told him they shared the same thoughts.

There was no time to instruct her, for they were near enough to the castle that Brice heard the voices of the many men and women who bustled about outside. A few of them paused in their activity when they realized who approached, ravenously interested in the young woman who would be their mistress.

“It has been a very busy time,” the young man explained. “The stable boys and scullery maids and cooks have been working throughout the day and night to prepare for the wedding. The earl led a hunting party this morning with the other men, but ought to be refreshed enough to receive you immediately.”

“I do not understand,” Brice spoke up. “If the earl did not know when we would arrive, how are there already guests awaiting our arrival?”

“They have been staying at the castle for a fortnight, as is sometimes the case in situations such as this. There are entire seasons which Earl Remington spends at the estate of a friend. He was in Nottingham for much of this past summer. But there has been plenty of time left to see to your comfort. He will wish to extend his hospitality to you in person, when I escort you to his study.”

He was speaking to Alana, who merely nodded in reply. She would go in to see the earl alone. Her escorts were not welcome.

This guard of Remington’s clearly did his lower business for him, the tasks he did not wish to take on himself. Such as alerting the new guests to their very low status and shuffling them off to the stables, where men such as them belonged, while fetching his bride and bringing her to him.

Brice reminded himself yet again that she was not his. And now that they were on the earl’s land, riding into the courtyard of the earl’s castle, she was not even his responsibility. He’d done his duty. She was safe.

Remington’s men dismounted, tossing the reins of their horses to the stable boys in a practiced gesture. They seemed to ignore the eyes and whispers of the servants who observed their mistress’s arrival.

“Come, then,” the leader of their group smiled up at Alana. “He will wish to see you immediately.”

She cast a nervous look in Brice’s direction, but lowered herself from the saddle nonetheless. “My horse, my belongings…”

“They will be taken care of,” the guard assured her. “Your belongings will be taken to your room, and this beautiful mare will be fed and watered and shown to its stall.”

“I see.” She hesitated, one hand still on the mare’s neck. Brice wished more than anything that he’d had the chance to offer one more word of encouragement, to assure her that all would be well.

Alana lifted her chin, her blue eyes clear and determined, and only looked back and Brice and the others for the briefest of moments before following Remington’s men through the castle’s tall, wooden door which sat open as if in anticipation of her arrival.

He wondered as he watched whether the crushing sensation in his chest was grief.

“Come on, then,” Rodric muttered as he dismounted. “No one will see to us unless we see to ourselves, I’m thinking.”

As if on second thought, the young man who led Remington’s band of knights or guards or whatever he considered them stopped and turned back. “The earl will wish to see the four of you at some point, as well, to settle the matter of payment.”

Brice wasn’t entirely sure he wished to lay eyes on the man.