Bree didn’t sleep well. She kept tossing and turning on the hard ground, despite the blanket that she’d rolled up and wedged beneath herself but it wasn’t the discomfort of her sleeping arrangements that kept her awake. It was Alexander Murray. Or rather, thoughts of Alexander Murray. Although she was safely ensconced in the tent and he was outside, Bree was sure she could feel his presence. It burned against her senses like flames.

What was wrong with her? She’d only known the man for five minutes! Why couldn’t she get him out of her mind? She regretted that their conversation had ended badly tonight. She enjoyed their banter and she’d found that when he wanted to be, Alex could be light-hearted, playful even. There was more to him than the taciturn warrior who glowered at everything as though it was a threat. She wanted to see more of that side of him but she’d obviously pushed him too far tonight when she’d asked about his family. He’d clammed up and hidden behind his dour exterior as though that might protect him.

With a sigh she screwed her eyes shut and tried to sleep.

She was awoken at the crack of dawn by the chirping of birds in the branches above. She lay still for a moment, listening to their chorus and drinking in the smell of dew-laden grass that permeated the thin walls of the tent. Then she sat up, stretched, and crawled outside.

Alex was sitting by the fire, just as she’d left him last night, staring into the flames. Had he slept at all?

“Good morning,” she said.

He glanced up at her. “Ye are up early, lass. It’s barely dawn.”

She sat down on a log he’d drawn up by the fire. “Best time of the day, my dad always used to say.”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He seemed preoccupied and began poking at the fire again.

“So,” she said. “What’s for breakfast?”

She rummaged around in the saddlebags, pulled out some strips of dried meat and held them up. “Ah! Look, dried meat. My favorite.” What she wouldn’t give for some hot-buttered toast and a steaming cup of coffee right now!

She tossed one of the strips to Alex and then began munching on her own. Silence fell between them, punctuated only by the chirruping of birds and the sound of Shadow scratching himself on a tree-trunk nearby.

“Listen, Alex,” she said at last. “About last night—”

“I dinna want to talk about last night,” he snapped. Before she could say another word he rose to his feet and began kicking out the fire. “Come. Finish yer breakfast and let’s be going. The sooner we’re on the road the sooner we’ll reach our destination.” He stomped over to Shadow.

Bree watched him go for a moment then began packing up the tent in silence. They didn’t speak again as they struck camp, mounted Shadow and set off. Alex was a brooding presence behind her, his glowering demeanor seeming to preclude all speech so Bree kept her mouth shut.

As before, she couldn’t see the path they were following. To her, the terrain all looked the same: scrubby woodland with no discernible paths but Alex seemed to know where he was going. Every so often he would stop, dismount and kneel on the ground, his palms flat against it as though he could see something she could not. The first time he did this Bree had asked him what he was looking for. Alex had just shaken his head then mounted Shadow and nudged him into motion.

She wished he’d tell her what he was looking for because each time they stopped he seemed to grow more and more uneasy, even muttering to himself and cursing under his breath.

They were clattering through a stream and up the bank on the other side when Shadow suddenly shied, almost throwing Bree from the saddle. She yelped and clung onto the cantle just as Alex’s arm circled her to keep her steady.

“Easy, boy,” he commanded the horse. “Easy.”

He got control of the horse and pulled him to a halt, his head swiveling from side to side, scanning their surroundings. The birds had fallen silent and in the eerie stillness Bree could hear her own breathing. Alex had gone as tense as a bow-string.

“What is it?” Bree whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“Hush,” Alex replied. He reached over his shoulder and slowly drew his sword.

Behind them a branch snapped and Alex spun Shadow around to face that direction. Bree gasped in shock at the sight of three mounted men watching them from the other side of the stream. A second later three more emerged from the trees on this side.

The men did not look friendly. All wore gear similar to Alex’s, although their plaid was of a different color, and all were carrying weapons and sported grim expressions.

Alex’s grip on his sword tightened. “Say nothing, nay matter what ye hear,” he whispered in her ear. “Nothing. Understand?”

She nodded, her heart suddenly hammering.

For a long moment the group of men sat as still as stone, just staring at her and Alex. Then one of them nudged his horse forward until it was standing at the edge of the stream. He had lank hair that fell to his shoulders and his face twisted into a sneer as he looked Alex and Bree over. 

“Lord Murray! How fortunate! Seems our lost sheep has found a lost sheep of his own. Eh, Alex?”

Alex said nothing. He looked over the group, assessing each in turn. Then he nodded. “Aye, Owen. What are ye doing out here? Ye are a long way from our lord’s keep.”

The one called Owen raised an eyebrow. “Isnae that obvious? We’re looking for ye, of course. Lord Donald doesnae take kindly to deserters.”

“Deserter?” Alex growled. “I am no deserter!”

“Then where have ye been? Nay sign of ye for two days and then we find ye on the border of Lord Donald’s lands with some woman. Yer explanation better be a good one.” The man’s words were heavy with threat and his men shifted their positions, hands going to weapons.

“There’s a simple explanation,” Alex growled. “I’m on my way back to Lord Donald’s keep to deliver this woman to him. She’s a noblewoman I found wandering in the woods. She might just be the key to bringing us some riches.”

Owen’s eyes narrowed as they settled on Bree. She tried not to squirm under his scrutiny. What the hell was Alex up to? She opened her mouth to speak but his hand suddenly squeezed her shoulder in warning.

Say nothing. No matter what ye hear.

She clamped her mouth shut as Owen nudged his horse closer.  He was a few years older than Alex and had a look about him that suggested ruthless malice. He looked her up and down in frank appraisal and Bree wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly uncomfortable.

“What is yer name, woman?”

“She is Lady Breanne Martin,” Alex supplied.

“And how do ye come to be in this part of the world, Lady Martin?”

“She is an outlander who was traveling with a group to the shrine of Saint Agnes. Her group was waylaid by bandits,” Alex said.

Owen scowled at him. “Does she nay have a voice of her own? I will hear the answers from her own mouth. Is this true, woman?”

Bree felt Alex stiffen behind her and it was all she could do not to look at him for confirmation. She had no idea what game he was playing but right now she knew their safety hinged on her answers to this man’s questions.

“It’s true,” she replied. “This man rescued me from some ruffians who attacked my party and stole our goods.” She hoped her approximation of a noblewoman’s speech rang true.

Owen rubbed his chin as he watched her. “Yer accent is strange, I’ll give ye that. Mayhap ye are an outlander noble but what has this got to do with Lord Donald? What does he care if some caravan was attacked by bandits?”

Alex drew the Murray medallion out of his pocket and held it up. Its gold links sparkled in the morning light. “This is just a fraction of the wealth her party carried. The brigands made off with the rest. They were only a small party—one that would give us little trouble should we track them and take back what they stole—after taking a generous cut for our efforts, of course.”

Owen’s eyes widened and greed quickly flashed across his face. “Well, that puts an entirely new spin on things doesnae it?” He bowed to Bree from his saddle. “My apologies, my lady. I am Owen, captain to Lord Donald Sinclair. We will see ye are escorted to safety until we can...reunite...ye with yer caravan.” His eyes flicked once more to the medallion. “I will take that and see that it safely reaches Lord Donald.”

Alex tucked the medallion away. “Ye will not, Owen. I found it and claim first rights of plunder. I will take it to Lord Donald.”

Owen’s mouth twisted into a grimace and his eyes flashed with anger. “Fine. Let’s get going.”

He whistled to his men and they spread out in a circle around Alex and Bree and they began moving once more, heading north now instead of south east.

Alex said not a word and although he returned his sword to its scabbard, he didn’t relax as they rode. Questions did somersaults in Bree’s head. Where were they going? Who were these men that obviously knew Alex? Why had he told them that pack of lies?

It will be all right, she told herself. Alex promised he’d protect you, remember? It will be okay. It will.

They rode in silence for what felt an age before they finally came out of the woodland and onto a rutted track that was filled with puddles. They passed through a couple of villages where the locals quickly retreated into their homes and about an hour later the road began climbing an escarpment.

Up ahead Bree spotted a dark smudge on the horizon. As they drew closer it revealed itself into a castle perched atop a huge outcropping of rock. The castle itself was an ugly thing made of blocks of stained and weathered stone. It had obviously been built for defense rather than aesthetic appeal. Around the castle the land had been divided into pasture where long-horned cattle grazed.

They rode up to the castle gates where Owen called up to the guards on the battlements who winched up the portcullis to let them through. Alex dismounted and then pulled Bree roughly from the saddle. 

“What’s going on?” she hissed but he gripped her upper arm tightly, silencing her. He stared straight ahead, not looking at her, but his skin was pale. A vein throbbed in his temple.

“Go along with whatever I say,” he muttered. “Yer safety now lies in convincing them ye are a noble lady who could bring a profit.”

Bree was marched unceremoniously into a large hall. She was herded down the length of it to where a fire burned at one end. A man was standing in front of the fire waiting for them.

They came to a halt and Owen bowed. “We found Alex, my lord. And a little more besides.”

The man crossed his arms and looked them over. He had dark hair and a strong chin and would have been handsome but for the coldness of his eyes.

“Where have ye been, Alex?” he asked in a smooth, quiet voice.  “Ye were expected to join the patrol this morning. I willnae have my men shirking their duties in order to spend time with their—”he looked Bree over appraisingly, — “female acquaintances.”

Alex stiffened but gave a stiff bow. “Ye misunderstand, my lord. This is Lady Breanne Martin, a stranger I met in the woods. Lady Breanne, this is Lord Donald Sinclair, lord of this demesne.”

He proceeded to tell the same story as he’d given Owen. Lord Donald listened intently, his eyes straying to Bree as the story unfolded.

“She was carrying this.” Alex handed the Loch Shiel medallion to Lord Donald who examined it closely before turning to gaze at Bree. There was a calculating look in his eyes.

“It seems ye have been the victim of some misfortune, Lady Breanne,” he said, stepping close. “But dinna worry. Ye are safe now. As long as ye are willing to answer a few questions, of course.”

Bree glanced from Lord Donald to Alex and back again. “What sort of questions?”

“How many were in yer group? What wealth were they carrying? How many attacked yer group and how well armed were they?”

“I...um...I...” she stammered.

Lord Donald stepped closer. “Well?” he demanded. “Answer my questions, woman!”

Alex stepped up to Lord Donald. “Ye willnae get any sense out of her I fear, my lord. She is traumatized by what she has seen. She is only a woman after all and has a delicate constitution. Might I suggest ye let her rest for a while before questioning her? Mayhap then she can tell us what we need to know.”

Lord Donald frowned but then nodded. “Aye, ye are right. I shouldnae expect so much from a weak-hearted woman. I will question her later, after she’s rested.”  He nodded and Owen grabbed her roughly by the arm.

“Owen will see ye to yer room. I will want to talk with ye again soon.”

Owen dragged her away. Bree twisted in his grip, looking desperately at Alex, but he was talking to Lord Donald, the two of them appearing to be sharing a joke. 

Owen marched her unceremoniously through several dank corridors until they reached a stout wooden door.

“Ye will remain here until the lord sends for ye,” he snapped before shoving her into the room and pulling the door shut behind her with an ominous thud.

“Wait!” Bree yelled. She grabbed the door handle and pulled with all her might but Owen had locked it behind him. “Let me out!” she bellowed. “Let me out right now!”

She heard footsteps retreating down the corridor and then silence. Bree shouted again, pounding on the door until her hands hurt and shouting until her voice turned hoarse. Nobody answered her. Finally she fell silent and pressed her forehead against the smooth wood of the door, breathing deeply against the panic that threatened to choke her.

Calm, she thought. Stay calm. Think.

She turned around and took in her surroundings for the first time, realizing this was no dungeon cell as she’d expected. It was a bedroom. Not overly large with plain plastered walls and a cot with a straw-stuffed mattress, it looked to be a bedroom for one of the servants. Over in one corner stood a washstand and a fireplace took up most of the far wall.

Bree moved over to the window. It was on the leeward side of the castle and she could see the village stretching out down the hill where people were going about their business. She spotted two women winching buckets up from a well, chatting as they did so, a group of children playing with a small white dog and an elderly man leading a mule piled high with baskets of vegetables.

Her legs felt suddenly shaky and she folded into the window seat. Without Alex beside her she felt vulnerable, alone. This was not her place. Not her time.

And she was a prisoner.

The realization hit her like a slap. Alex thought these men dangerous enough that he had made up a lie to throw them off her scent.

A sliver of doubt gnawed at Bree. Lies seemed to trip so easily from Alex’s tongue. The question was—who was he lying to? Lord Donald? Or her?

Perhaps he’s been lying to you all along, a little voice whispered in her head. Perhaps his plan all along was to bring you here.

But that made no sense. If he’d planned to bring her to Lord Donald then why tell him those lies about her origins?

She shook her head. None of it made any sense. Glancing around at her prison, frustration welled up inside her.

If Alex thinks I’m going to sit around here like a good little girl and wait for him to come and tell me what the hell he’s up to, he’s got another think coming, she thought to herself.

Her eyes strayed to the window. Below was a small courtyard. Her room was on the first floor and there was a little sill outside her window.

She pursed her lips. The drop to the courtyard wasn’t that far. She’d had worse falling out of trees when she was little.

Before she could change her mind she took hold of the latch on the window and swung it open. It was narrow, barely large enough for her to fit through but she wriggled, scraping her shoulders on the casement, and then crouched on the window sill outside. The wind tugged at her, threatening to rip her from her perch and for a second her heart leapt into her mouth. Then she dropped onto her belly and wriggled until her legs were dangling over the edge, her fingers gripping the cold stone for all she was worth.

Sucking in a deep breath, she let go.