The sensation ripping through Niall’s chest was not one he’d been familiar with in over a year. Intuition told him exactly what was happening—ambush.

Terror. Dread. The need to shed blood. All of it warred inside him.

The riders, and from the way the ground rumbled there had to be many of them, were approaching at a frantic speed. An unsafe speed. An ambushing speed.

His men had drawn their swords, their backs to each other, and Bella’s maid’s once sweet face transformed into a silent scream as she ran toward him. It was enough to make his heart skip several beats.

An arrow fired through the trees, narrowly missing one of his men.

Every inch of his body leapt into action.

“She’s behind me. Stay with her,” he told Mary before searching out Walter, who was shouting orders to the men.

Several squires had the horses and were running to get out of the way as arrows whizzed through the air and struck haphazardly into trees, the fire, a leg, a horse’s neck. And then men were leaping from the trees, the MacGregor colors bright on their plaids. Red as the blood they wanted to shed and green as the envy in their hearts.

Ballocks!

Eòran McGregor was out for revenge after their fight in the tournament, that was evident. Niall had wounded the bastard’s pride.

Niall hacked at one man after another—and another, and another. En masse, the men attacked him, bypassing the other Oliphant warriors in favor of striking at Niall. It was as if they’d picked him out of the lot to fight, either at MacGregor’s order or because they saw his missing arm and figured him for a good target. The reasoning behind it didn’t matter at the moment, and as he kicked one man in the chest, shoving him into the bloke behind him, he bellowed in their faces like a madman.

If they thought they’d found a victim in him, well, they’d chosen wrong, for Niall was not going to die this day. If he was to meet Death, it would be by his own hand or by God’s grace, not at the end of some ambusher’s sword. Not by bloody Eòran MacGregor, who didn’t even have the decency to show his face at an ambush he’d clearly organized.

Walter and the other men fought valiantly and with more heart than their enemies, but what Niall wanted most of all, besides victory, was his wife’s safety. This wasn’t her fight, and there was no way in hell he was going to let her get hurt because of some idiotic vendetta a madman had against Niall.

As he fought, he tried to keep an eye on where their enemy was going, what they were doing, to keep his awareness on the tree where Bella and Mary hid. But with so many of them coming at him, doing so became harder and harder. Sweat dripped from his brow into his eyes, but he fought through it. He didn’t have the ability to wipe it away unless he wanted one of the men’s blows to land where they aimed.

Then a woman’s scream rent the air.

There was only one woman who could scream—Bella.

Niall cut through the men in front of him, barreling into those in his way as he charged toward where he’d told his wife to remain hidden. His men swarmed the MacGregors who attempted to stop him, and just before he made it to her hiding spot, a warrior took off at a run from behind the tree, carrying his wife over his shoulder. It was not Eòran, but that made little difference, he could have been a bloody ghost for all Niall cared—nobody was taking her away from him.

Poor Mary lay splayed on the ground, blood seeping from a wound on her forehead. She was unconscious, and Niall called for one of the squires to come get her and keep guard. The MacGregors were thinning out, their ambush objective now obvious. They’d wanted to steal Bella.

“Walter,” Niall shouted as he ran after the retreating man. “They’ve got Bella!”

Bella screamed again, beating at the man’s back. Her golden locks had fallen out of the neat plait and waved wildly in the air as she hit the warrior again and again.

Good, lass. Keep fighting.

Niall wanted to shout every obscenity he could, to threaten the man with the most heinous death, but to shout would be to waste the air in his lungs, and he needed to save it all to run as fast as he could.

Bella’s gaze, wild and angry, met Niall’s as he charged forward, making his heart tug painfully in his chest. She was terrified, and with good reason.

Not once back at the camp when he’d been under attack had he seen Eòran, which meant the rat bastard had sent his men ahead with express orders to ambush them and take the lass, where he would then make his escape with her. Bride stealing was rare nowadays, but not all that unheard of. Usually, it was done before the wedding or shortly thereafter, not after the marriage had been consummated, but Niall was certain that wouldn’t make any difference to Eòran. He’d likely make the argument that Niall was incapable as half the country probably thought at this point.

The sound of Walter’s steps behind him sent a renewed burst of energy through him, and he picked up speed. From the sounds of it, Walter was not alone. There had to be at least four other men with him. The rest would have remained behind to take care of the MacGregors who had not already fallen or fled. Once done, most would come after Niall to make certain there wasn’t a bigger ambush ahead, while others would remain behind with the horses and Mary.

The six of them charged through the snow, slipping on slick parts, but always keeping the MacGregor warrior in their sights. Inch by inch, Niall grew closer. He wanted the bastard’s blood so badly he could taste it.

Bella continued to scream, to fight. She was no simpering lass, and he couldn’t have been more proud. What she never did was call out to him—even though she kept her eyes locked on him. Maybe she hoped her captor wouldn’t turn around and see the Oliphant warriors gaining on him, though the imbecile had to hear them coming. Their footsteps crunched through snow, and they all grumbled and growled like wolves seeking their prey.

So close…

The bastard took a dizzying turn to the right and started to slide on both feet toward a tree. He grappled with the air and let go of Bella, who in her shock was silent, arms outstretched as though she could see the fall happening before it did. All of them could see it. Niall cried out, shooting forward as though he might be able to catch her before she fell, even though it was impossible. The man lost his balance completely then, his fight for purchase leading him nowhere but down. He fell flat on his arse with an oomph and a curse.

Bella’s head hit the snow hard, bouncing up and then down, her eyes rolling back before they were covered by her hair, and then she lay very still.

Panic rose in Niall, tightening his chest. “Bella!” he shouted.

A breath later, she started to scramble away from the man who’d turned onto his belly and was grabbing for her ankles.

Too late for him—that fall was his end—because it gave the men all the time they needed to catch up with him.

The Oliphant warriors wasted not one second, hacking his hand off where he grabbed at her, then his head.

Bella had barely risen to her knees before Niall dropped his sword and lifted her up into the air against him. His arm tight around her middle, he buried his face in her neck. She smelled of snow and spice and freedom.

She was murmuring incoherent words between sobs as she clung to him, trembling. All the fight went out of her as she lost control. “Mary, where is Mary? They tried to kill her! I think she’s dead.”

“Mary is not dead,” Niall soothed, stroking her back and pressing his lips to her temple. “I promise, sweetheart. She is safe.”

Bella let out a shuddering sob and then glanced down at the bloodied, dead warrior.

“He…he said they would kill me after their laird had his way with me.”

Fury rose inside him once more. If—nay, when—he got his hands on MacGregor, he was a dead man. “No one is going to take ye away, lass. No one is going to hurt ye. I willna let them.”

Niall met Walter’s gaze. This meant war.

Not only did he want to battle MacGregor for what he’d done here today, if he didn’t seek retribution, any other bastard who got it into their head that Niall was fair game would come looking for a fight.

With his blood still running hot, Niall forced himself to set his wife down. But he couldn’t stop touching her. With his sword in the scabbard on his back, he held fast to her hand. More than ever, he wished he had two arms to sweep her up into them and not put her down. Then again, his wife was not the type of woman who wanted to be carried. And that made him smile. At least by holding her hand, he could keep her beside him, right where she belonged.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured as they walked.

“This is not your fault.” Her voice was resolute.

“Aye, ’tis.”

“I will not allow ye to take the blame for it, Niall. MacGregor is a madman. And ye canna carry the burden of a madman’s choice.”

Still, he seethed. “What if he’d gotten ye?”

“I’d have fought, and ye’d have fought.”

“But what if we lost?”

“We didna.” She stopped walking and turned to face him, her eyes searching his. “We canna worry over what if, only on the future, Niall.”

“Ye sound like my brother.”

“Ye fought bravely. I’ve never seen a man run as fast as ye did. I’ve never seen a man take on so many at once. Your strength and power…’tis godlike.”

Niall laughed softly. “Ye’ll give me a big head.”

“I but want ye to realize all that ye are. Your men respect ye. Leaders in Scotland respect ye. I respect ye. Ye saved me. I dinna know how I can ever thank ye.”

Niall was hesitant to tell her that if it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have needed saving at all. Instead, he let himself believe for a moment that she was right, and how good it felt to have her support, her respect. And he vowed to never let MacGregor hurt her again.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, closing his eyes tightly against the torrent of emotion that flowed through him. He was finding it hard to breathe. So he just stayed like that, still and connected, breathing in her scent and trying to calm the surging in his blood of a dozen or more different emotions.

When he was able to regain his composure, he pulled away. “I promise that for the rest of our days, I will do whatever it takes for ye to keep looking at me like that. To believe in me.”

Bella smiled. “Just be yourself.”

Niall nodded, his throat tightening again. Her natural acceptance of him took his breath away. But they’d already taken too much time on the way back. They needed to hurry and get the hell out of here before reinforcements arrived. There was no telling how many other men MacGregor had with him wherever the meeting point was. Soon enough, that traitorous bastard was going to come looking for his men himself, and while Niall would love to be there waiting for him, he had to get Bella to safety first.

At camp, his men had already made a pile of the dead bodies and were readying the horses for departure. Two of their mounts had sustained life-threatening injuries and were put down, which only added more fuel to Niall’s ire.

As soon as Bella spotted Mary sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, she ran to her maid and crouched low to make certain she was indeed still alive.

Niall ordered Philip to take Mary up on his horse again, the women would not ride on their own for the remainder of the journey now that they were down two horses.

“We’ll take a different route home. Get off the main road. ’Tis too easy to follow us in the snow.”

Only when he had Bella in his lap and they were on their way did he allow himself a moment to breathe. But it didn’t matter, his ears were pricked, his eyes wide, and every gust and howl of wind had him on edge.

This was not the end. MacGregor would be back, and this time, Niall was going to be ready.

When the bright winter light faded to purple, making the diamond-like sparkling in the snow fade, they reached Dornoch, a Sutherland holding on the border of their lands and the Dornoch Firth.

Out of the way, and farther east than the route Niall had originally planned to take, it was the safest. They were admitted into the castle, currently inhabited by Bella’s older brother Magnus, who was still at Dunrobin. Everyone called her brother Strath—his nickname, shortened for his title Lord Strathnaver, so he wasn’t confused with their father. The servants made up beds, warmed the horses, and fed the warriors. The guards of Dornoch Castle were warned to be on alert for MacGregor’s men.

“Should we stay here for a few days? Until he is off our trail?” Bella asked, looking worried as she sat on the edge of the bed in her robe.

Her toes curled into the rug, and she bit her lip over and over, stopping only when she seemed to realize what she was doing. The lass was making a mighty good attempt at not looking worried, but all the same, he could see it. Despite her fidgeting, she was still incredibly enchanting. Her long locks had been brushed out and shined like spun gold in the light of the fire. Niall found it hard to take his eyes off her. It was hard to concentrate on anything other than taking her into his arms and hearing her sigh against his neck, her body melting into his.

“We’ll stay one day.” Niall lifted a boot onto a bench against the wall and untied the laces, then the other. “Then we’ll be on our way. I’ll send out scouts in the morning to see if they can find MacGregor’s trail.”

“Why would he have done such a thing?” Bella shuddered, rubbing her arms in the sleeves of her thin night rail. The movement made her breasts jiggle beneath the filmy fabric and had him instantly hard.

Niall cleared his throat, worked on tugging off his boots and hose. Then, for good measure so he didn’t accost his wife, he went to the wash basin and splashed cold water on his face.

“This is my fault, sweetling. I suspect the man seeks to humiliate me because he lost on the battlefield.” No longer able to resist the desire to touch her, Niall sat beside her on the bed and pulled her onto his lap, kissing the top of her head.

“But that’s just poor sportsmanship.” She toyed with the ties at the neck of his shirt, making him ache to tear it off and press his skin to hers. But he was not yet ready for her to see him in all his scarred nakedness. “If every man attacked another and stole their wife when they didna win a tourney, the entire country would be in an uproar.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Niall admitted. He told her about what had happened that morning, with MacGregor waking him with a kick to the back, and how MacGregor had been angry when the Bruce had chosen Niall over him to marry his daughter.

“Ah, so he’s holding a deeper grudge.” She was no longer playing with the ties of his shirt, but untwining them until his shirt fell open and the skin of his chest was exposed to the air.

“Exactly.”

Bella splayed her hand on his skin, and Niall worked hard not to hiss in a breath at her bold touch.

“I just dinna understand though, husband. He will make enemies of so many powerful people—including the king. Why would he risk that?”

Because of the way he held her with his hand around her back, Niall could not remove her hand from his chest, and he was now finding it hard to concentrate on their conversation as she danced her fingertips over his skin. “A man like that is ruled by his ego and not his mind. He is not thinking ahead, only for the temporary satisfaction of seeing me in pain.”

“I hate this.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the dip in his throat.

“Aye, sweet lass. Battling is never fun.”

“And he interrupted our kiss.” She dipped her tongue out to tease him further.

Niall groaned. The little minx was seducing him—and doing it very well. “What makes ye more mad? That he came right when I was about to ravish ye, or that he stole ye away from me?”

She giggled and threaded her fingers in his hair, giving a firm tug. “Well, that is a hard thing to answer, husband. For I desperately wanted to be ravished.”

Niall chuckled, brushing his nose over hers before kissing her gently. “Well, we are alone now and safe. And ye’re doing a good job of reminding me just what I missed. How about I make good on that promise?”

“Oh, aye, I suppose I could allow it this once.”

“Just this once.”

“Aye, but ye’re really going to have to show me that it’s worth it.”

Niall laid her back down on the bed and moved over her, and in a swift move of his knees between hers, he settled his hardness at the apex of her thighs. “Och, I’ll show ye ’tis worth it.”

He kissed her gently, then more demandingly, sending sparks of pleasure ricocheting through her. Bella was certain that no matter how many times he kissed her, she would never cease to wonder at the magic of it. The touch of his lips on hers made sparks of fire shoot through her limbs, making her weak and strong all at the same time.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and let her legs fall wider apart, trailing her feet up over his powerful legs and allowing him greater access to her center.

Niall kissed his way between her breasts, using his teeth to tug at the collar of her night rail, tugging it lower to expose her nipples. She ran her hand through his hair, tugging as he sucked one pink tip into his mouth and drove her wild.

“I want ye, I need ye,” she crooned, gripping her night rail and hauling the fabric up over her hips, knowing she was acting like a wanton and not caring in the least.

Niall growled, the vibration against her skin enough to make her keen with pleasure. He moved lower, sliding down her body, his tongue wetting the fabric of her gown.

“Niall?” she asked, uncertain of what he meant to do but too curious to ask him to stop.

“Lift your gown up higher.”

She did as he asked, distracted long enough not to see exactly what he was doing but feeling it all the same as liquid heat touched her very core.

Bella fell back on the bed, her gown wrapped around her head, as she was too shocked to pull it off when his tongue stroked that very wicked part of her.

She could barely breathe from pleasure—and from the gown suffocating her. In fact, she lay there in a state of pleasured shock for several hard breaths before her fingers figured out what to do. At last, she wrenched off her night rail, arching her back on the bed and crying out. The erotic sensations were intense. Indefinable. How in the world…?

And then that fatal explosion she’d felt before on their wedding night ripped through her in powerful pulsing waves.

“Och, my God, Bella, that was beautiful.” Niall slowly crawled up the length of her body, kissing her until he came to her mouth. “I want to feel ye come on my tongue over and over.”

“I would be more than willing to oblige ye, but please, first, I want ye inside me.” Bella reached between them, yanking his plaid out of the way to feel the velvet hardness of his cock in her palm. She gasped at the heat of him, moaned as she placed him at her entrance and cried out as he drove in hard.

Niall owned her then. He was in complete control of her body, and yet she knew without a moment’s hesitation that he would be her biggest champion in anything she did—had proven that so many years ago.

She clung to him, riding the waves of pleasure crashing down around her, and basking in the glow of his encouraging words and shuddering body as he too found that pinnacle moment.

When the weight of him became too much, she nudged him over onto his side and curled up next to him.

“Bella…ye’re my light.”

She snuggled closer, pressed a kiss over his heart, knowing how hard it must have been to say those words, and knowing just how deep they were in meaning. In the darkness he’d endured, she was the light that brought him home.