The quiet of the night was shattered by the sounds of men shouting. Victoria Westcott Turner jerked awake and bolted upright. Darien ran into her room pulling on his breeches just as screams erupted. He grabbed her from the bed and shoved a gown into her arms. "Go through my chamber and out the back woman, hurry!” he shouted.

Her heart pounding, Victoria did as he commanded and dashed through his chamber pausing only slightly when a nude chambermaid sat in the center of Darien's bed screaming hysterically. There was no time to be concerned about what she'd already suspected. The reason he never sought her in bed.

She kept moving until finding the back exit and made her way through a dark tunnel, her feet sinking into foul smelling muck. She didn't stop to wonder what coated the ground, too distressed at hearing more screams and the sounds of horses outside.

Victoria crept out into the night quietly calling for Mary, her handmaid. The lack of moonlight made it almost impossible to see. Running barefoot, she grimaced when she stepped into a puddle and lost her footing, slipping down a muddy slope and landing in a small trench. Unfortunately, she lost hold of her bundle of clothing and it remained at the top of the small hill.

Fires had erupted from the direction of the large estate. The light from the flames helped her eyes adjust to the darkness. Victoria took advantage to look for Mary. Climbing on all fours Victoria inched back up the hill.

The pounding of the hooves echoed on the ground as she lowered back down into the muddy ditch.

Victoria was not sure how much time passed. Other than the occasional shouts and sounds of horses moving about, she could not make out enough to know more than they'd been attacked. By whom is what she needed to know?

When the flames arose into the night sky she was finally able to see what happened around her. Horsemen rode to and fro. Fierce looking men corralled people and loaded them onto a wagon.

Who were these men that attacked in the middle of the night? Obviously they had to be her husband’s enemies?

Soon after marrying, Darien Turner’s cruel personality had been revealed. It did not surprise her to find out he had enemies she wasn't aware of.

Victoria refused to cry. She had to keep her wits about her. Listening intently for any familiar voice was difficult with all the noise. The horsemen spoke with heavy Scottish accents communicating with short commands and whistles. According to one of her brothers, Scots were bloodthirsty brutal men. They would probably kill everyone including her, if they found her.

"Mistress Victoria?" Over the shouts and other sounds she heard Mary’s voice in the darkness.

"I'm here Mary." She stood and rushed toward her maid only to trip on something.

Mary hurried to her crying. "Oh thank goodness you are alright.” The older woman pulled Victoria to her and hugged her. Just then a horseman came upon them.

"Who’s there?” The deep voice held a strong Scottish accent.

"Don’t say a word milady,” Mary whispered to Victoria urgently. She then addressed the Scot, "Tis only two of us women, we are unarmed milord.”

The huge man bent to get a closer look at the two women huddled together. He looked over his shoulder. "We missed two." He shouted as another horseman neared.

"We've already sent the other maids and stable lads away on a wagon as you directed," the other male stated.

"Leave them then," the first man said, turning his horse away.

"They'll die of exposure. There’s nothing left of the house but the walls and winter is fast approaching."

The first man grunted his reply, too low for Victoria to understand.

"You should have kept silent," Victoria whispered to Mary who looked to be in shock.

After being herded to their wagon, the men loaded Mary and Victoria onto the back of it. Now they bumped along behind twenty men lead by the Scot who'd found them.

"I'm sorry milady, we would have frozen to death. Ye look positively miserable. Are ye warm enough?" Victoria remained muddy and uncomfortable. The cold dirty nightgown clung to her skin. She glanced toward an old man who introduced himself as Hamish. He sat up front driving the two mules that pulled their wagon, which was full of foodstuffs and other items they had obviously looted from the Turner estate. She whispered to Mary. "Do you think Darien is dead?”

"Yes my sweet I saw it meself” Mary whispered back. "That large Scot killed him.” She motioned to the Scotsman. "He’s a mean one that one.”

"What of Lady Beatrice?” She asked referring to her mother in law.

"I believe she is dead as well.”

Although she'd not grown fond of her cruel husband of only two months and her equally bitter mother in law, Victoria began to cry. "Why did they choose to come to attack our home?"

"I don't know milady," Mary whispered and patted her back. "We've got to be strong. Now, now, stop crying, we have to keep calm so we can think better."

"What will become of us Mary?” She shivered from a combination of fright and the chilly air.

Mary cupped Victoria’s face and lifted it. "You must not tell them who you are milady. Tis best that you stay covered in mud. The fact that you fell into the muck is a blessing in disguise. I shudder to think what those brutes will do, if they get a good look at you.”

Victoria gasped at the thought and nodded. From the corner of her eye, she eyed the two Scots who rode behind the wagon. Neither of them seemed particularly interested in Mary or her at the moment. She could tell they were on guard. Both constantly looked to the surrounding trees, ever alert. By their battle-toned awareness, she realized it would be almost impossible to escape.

Resigned she prayed that her brothers would receive word of the attack and come to rescue her. They were her best hope. Jamie the younger of the two was a well-known privateer. Her oldest brother, Aidan, who ran the family estate, was also a decorated warrior. The Westcott’s were a force to be reckoned with. If anyone could stand up to these brutes, it was her brothers. Sending a silent prayer for her husband’s soul, she resigned herself to the fact that in a few days she would be in Scotland.

Her future more than uncertain.

When the group came to a stop in the light morning hours, Mary shook Victoria awake. Although she could feel the Scot's gazes, none spoke to them. They made their way to a crop of trees for privacy and relieved themselves. A Scotsman followed, but kept a discreet distance. She and Mary washed up at a nearby creek. Victoria careful to only rinse the muck from her hands and forearms ached to dunk into the water and wash off, but Mary's words kept repeating in her mind. It was best not to look attractive. She rinsed around her mouth and eyes and left her dirty hair down to cover as much of her face as possible.

Such a contrast to the day before, the same men who slaughtered her household were now watching for their safety. When they returned to the wagon Mary automatically switched to what she knew best. She went directly to help Hamish who seemed to be in charge of feeding the men. Unsure what exactly to do, Victoria followed the woman's lead.

"Tis a shame to have to feed the men who killed our people without regard” Mary grumbled under her breath

Hamish took affront and replied curtly "Tis a shame for some to judge people without knowing their motivations.”

Victoria looked over to where the men had gathered near the creek rinsing their faces while at the same time keeping a vigilant eye to their surroundings. She wondered what motivation would bring them so far.

After a short respite and simple meal, the party mounted their horses and traveled again for the entire day.