Morning turned to afternoon. Afternoon turned to evening.

Not once had he let her out of his sight, except when she needed privacy to attend to nature’s needs. Even then, while he’d freed her hands, he’d tied the rope to her arm, instead.

Tight. No chance of working out the knot in time. She had tried, too.

The same went for the two times they’d stopped to water the horses at a narrow stream. Ysmaine was unfamiliar with the territory and could not have guessed where they were, nor was she in any position to flee with the rope once again tied around her arm while she washed her hands and face.

She had pulled once, just once, to see what he might do in response.

The quick jerk on the tight rope had convinced her how easy it would be for him to dislocate her shoulder. As it was, her muscles had strained terribly and left her with an arm which ached worse than it already had.

“Do you have any food?” she asked when her stomach rumbled loud enough to be heard over the chattering of birds in the branches above their heads.

It had been nearly an entire day since she’d last eaten at the inn. If she’d known how long it would be before her next meal, she might have savored the experience a bit more.

“I’ll catch something for us to eat once we make camp.”

“When will that be? Are you not tired?” How could he stay upright in the saddle? His back was straight, his head held high, his eyes constantly searching the terrain for any signs of trouble.

All the while, Ysmaine struggled to stay in the saddle with her eyes open.

“Fatigue does not plague me overmuch,” he informed her, still surveying their surroundings.

“I suppose you grew accustomed to fatigue while a soldier.”

“I suppose.”

He had grown terse, short, his responses making it difficult to carry on a conversation. There was no way for him to understand just how much she needed to hear his voice. To remind herself that a thinking, feeling man held the rope which tethered them to one another.

The sun sank behind them, making the shadows it cast before them longer than ever before. They looked like monstrous things, large and shapeless, with four legs and two heads. Like something out of an old myth or legend, some creature the ancient ones had destroyed in order to maintain peace and order in the Highlands—

“Lass!”

His sharp voice startled her into wakefulness, and she realized with no small amount of embarrassment that she’d begun to fall asleep. If he hadn’t looked her way in time, she would have fallen to the ground.

“Ysmaine,” she mumbled, shaking her head and taking deep breaths to rouse herself.

“What is that?”

“My name. Ysmaine. You might use it when speaking to me, should you choose to do so. Rather than referring to me as ‘lass’ again and again.”

He did not respond to this. Instead, he brought the horses to a halt. “I suppose we ought to make camp for the night, then. No sense in allowing ye to tumble out of the saddle.”

“Oh, thank you,” she muttered with a roll of her eyes. “It’s a comfort to know you have the decency to be concerned whether or not I break my neck.”

“My concern is with keeping you alive, so I might collect the ransom I intend to demand,” he was quick to inform her. “You are valuable as far as the price I might put upon your head. Nothing more.”

She did what she could to let this pass, though it stung her pride considerably. Was that truly all she meant? It mattered not that she was human, a woman with a heart and a mind?

He was a truly desperate individual, she realized with a shudder. Desperate individuals were like cornered animals, another of her father’s preferred adages. He never trusted a man acting from desperation.

Just as she could not trust her captor, no matter how much they conversed or how handsome he could appear in the right light, when he would remove the hat to run the back of his arm over his forehead. At these times, he revealed dark red hair and a sharp, handsome profile.

It mattered not how pleasant he sounded when he laughed at himself, or how much she had always respected men who could do so.

He led her horse off the road then, allowing her to fall behind him as they walked their mounts through the woods. The trees had only just sprouted their leaves, the grass beneath them had only recently sprung up from the dark, rich soil. The scent of new life still hung heavy in the air.

In any other time, it would have been a lovely place to take a ride.

They arrived at a recently cleared stretch of land. “I can smell the fresh wood,” she murmured as she took in the sight of new, freshly-cut stumps.

“It’s much more pleasant than the stench of horses.” He helped her from hers, guiding her to a wide stump when she walked slowly. Painfully slowly, thanks to the soreness in her legs and backside.

“Rest here,” he ordered as he tied off the horses.

“My wrists are still bound,” she pointed out, holding them up.

“And?” He turned away, intent on heading further into the woods.

She looked around. The light faded faster all the time, the sun all but set. “What do you expect me to do here, alone, while you’re finding food?”

“You might join me,” he suggested.

She chewed her lip, considering this. It would mean companionship.

It would also mean walking, when her legs burned from the exertion of riding throughout the night and day.

Exhaustion won out, and she stayed in place. “I will wait here.”

“A wise decision.” He whistled some tuneless melody as he walked away, carrying a thick limb which he’d picked up from the ground. What he intended to do with the limb turned Ysmaine’s stomach—she imagined some poor, unknowing rabbit currently hopping through the woods unaware of what was about to take place—but hunger was far stronger than disgust.

She had never been one for watching the men come back from a hunt with game strung up by their feet from poles. She could not think of animals as food until they’d already been skinned and roasted.

The woods were peaceful, at least, the air sweet. A breeze drifted through the clearing, and she closed her eyes, breathing deep.

It would be over soon enough, would it not? She need only endure. The riding was difficult, certainly. Her legs chafed beyond anything she’d ever suffered before. She hoped there would no longer be reason to ride through the night; they had put a reasonable distance between themselves and Inverness. The chances of being followed were slim.

So she told herself.

It mattered not to her either way, in the end. They would either be captured, or they would not. She would go to France, regardless.

Would she not?

Footsteps told her he’d returned. She shook her head, sitting up. Once again, she had fallen asleep without realizing.

She looked at the horses and noted the direction in which their ears were turned. Toward the footsteps. They were uneasy. Worse than uneasy. They strained against the reins, wishing to be free.

She was halfway to standing when she sensed the presence behind her.

“What are ye doing out here all alone, lassie?”

There was no time to turn, no time to scream. A hand clamped over her mouth, arms pulling her against a body which reeked badly enough to make her eyes water.

Though it might have been terror which brought tears to her eyes. Or the way the hand not clamped over her mouth ran over her body, touching and grabbing hard enough to hurt. He held a dirk between thumb and forefinger, and the edge of the blade scratched against her kirtle.

“Who would be foolish enough to leave ye alone?” the man asked, his sour breath hot in her ear. “All on yer own, and with yer wrists bound, at that. Am I not the first to take you? Shall I be stealing ye from another man, then?”

“You shan’t.” Another voice.

Suddenly, a hot, wet substance covered her shoulder, her arm, her chest. She looked down at it and realized in horror that it was blood. But not hers.

It belonged to the man who held her.

He released her, falling to the ground with her captor’s dirk through his neck. Blood flowed freely from the wound, staining the moss, soaking into the loamy soil.

“Are ye all right?” Her captor-turned-hero grasped her shoulders, looking her in the eye. “Are ye?”

“I…” She swooned, her eyelids fluttering rapidly, the world going gray until an almost violent shake of her shoulders brought everything back.

“Stay with me,” he ordered. “We need to get him further away from the road, then find a new place to make camp for the night. I cannot have the both of ye slowing me. Understand?”

She nodded, the shock of what had only just taken place rendering her mute.

A man who had only just been alive, his hands on her body, his breath in her ear, was now dead. And his blood soaked into her garment, soaked through until she felt its wet warmth on her skin.

There was no time to think about it. There might never be a time when the memory of what had just taken place would not send shudders of revulsion through her.

“Take his feet.”

She held out her hands, still bound. “I cannot.”

He grunted, shaking his head, but untied her just the same. She shook her hands out, rubbing her chafed skin, wincing as the blood began flowing through her numb fingers.

Blood. Like the blood which soaked into her kirtle…

“Come, now. His feet.” There was no denying him when he barked at her that way. It was easier to turn her thoughts away from horror and turn her attention to following orders. A relief, really.

She did as she was told and helped carry her attacker deeper into the woods, where they covered him with fallen branches and leaves. It was difficult work, especially when she had been on the verge of collapse only minutes earlier, but the fear of discovery gave her the strength she needed.

She looked up at her captor when they finished. “What is your name?”

He looked at her, his face slack with surprise. “Quinn.”

“Thank you, Quinn. He was going to…”

“Ye need not tell me what he was, going to do,” Quinn was quick to assure her. “And as I said before, I must protect ye if I expect to earn a reward for ye.”

Her heart sank. She’d made a mistake in thinking he’d done what he did out of goodness. He merely wished to keep her alive, and in his possession long enough to collect his ransom.

“Come. We must find another place to spend the night.” They returned to the spot where the killing had taken place, where Quinn had dropped the rabbits which he’d been bringing back to her.

Rabbits which he’d hit over the head with the limb he’d found.

That was all it took to make the darkness close around her.