There was a moment of weightlessness then she hit the ground with an ‘oomph’ and staggered, losing her footing and falling on her backside. She was up again in an instant, scrabbling to her feet and spinning around to check her descent hadn’t been spotted. To Bree’s relief, it hadn’t. There was nobody in sight.

Picking up the hem of her dress so she wouldn’t trip over it, she scooted along the wall beneath her window until she reached a corner and peeked carefully out. Ahead of her lay the outer bailey and it was full of people: stable boys leading horses, women carrying baskets of laundry, soldiers on patrol. Bree cursed. How was she going to get through that unseen?

Her plan was a little sketchy—she hadn’t really paused long enough to think things through. All she knew is that there must be a way out of here and she was determined to find it.

Bree saw her chance. The stable boys disappeared inside the stable and the soldiers looked to be deep in conversation. Bree stepped out of her hiding place. She walked steadily, not rushing, as though she had every right to be there and hoping not to draw attention to herself. She reached the far side and ducked into the shadow beneath the curtain wall, heart thumping and breathing ragged.

Calm, she told herself. Calm.

She turned left and skirted the base of the curtain wall, keeping to the shadows. Up ahead she saw a darker shadow in the base of the wall. As she approached she realized it was a gate set into the thick stone. Much smaller than the main gates, it was so well camouflaged in the shadow that she wouldn’t have noticed it had she not been walking right past.

Bree chewed her lip and glanced around anxiously. Where did the door lead? Was it a way out of the castle?

Suddenly the door burst open and a man strode through. Bree yelped in surprise and the man halted too, caught unawares by her standing there. He was carrying a large sack over his shoulder which he dropped to the ground as he spotted Bree.

She gulped. It was Owen.

“Well, well,” he said. “I havenae been gone that long, surely? I’m touched that ye’ve missed me.”

Bree took a step back. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes that made her heart race.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I got lost.”

She turned but he leapt forward to block her. “Nay so fast, lass,” he said. “Where are ye going? Ye’ve clearly escaped yer room—and all to see me? I’m moved, I really am.”

Bree stepped back, holding up her hands. “I’ll go back now and we can forget this ever happened. Okay?”

She spun and began walking but he was quick, darting in front and blocking her path. Bree tried to still her suddenly racing heart. Would anyone come running if she called for help?

“Leave me alone,” she snapped. “I’ll scream if you come any closer.”

Far from unsettling Owen, this seemed to please him. “Nobody will come. They’ve all got far better things to do than come to the aid of a cheap whore. Ye think ye’ve fooled everyone with yer story? Not me. I can see ye for what ye really are—and what ye really want.”

He lunged at her but Bree got her arm up to block his attempted grab and then slammed the flat of her palm against his chest, sending him staggering back with a grunt. She whirled and sprinted away but his footsteps echoed behind her. Cold fingers closed on her arm and yanked her around. Bree aimed a kick at Owen’s shins but he grabbed her shoulder, spun her around, and pulled her roughly against him so he was pressed against her back.

“That’s right,” he whispered in her ear. “Fight me. Just how I like it.”

“Let me go, you asshole!”

But his grip only tightened. He twisted an arm up her back and inhaled deeply. “Ah, such a sweet smell. I’m going to enjoy this.”

Something hurtled out of the shadows and slammed into Owen. His grip vanished and Bree whirled to see Alex tackling him to the ground. He landed a punch into Owen’s stomach that doubled him over then hurried to Bree.

“Are ye all right?” he asked breathlessly. “Did he hurt ye?”

“I’m fine,” she gasped, trying to still her thumping heart.

Alex let out a slow breath. “Thank the Lord.”

Behind him Owen climbed to his feet. His face was a mask of fury. “Ye have just made a big mistake, Murray,” he growled.

“Stay away from her, Owen,” Alex growled back. “Touch her again and I’ll kill ye.”

He placed himself protectively in front of Bree. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart and his eyes were focused, a predator watching its prey.

“Ye are a fool,” Owen growled. “Ye have fallen for her lies. Look at her. Does she look like a noblewoman to ye? I dinna think so. She’s just a worthless whore.”

Alex tensed, his muscles quivering. “Call her that again,” he said in a voice made all the more menacing by its softness, “and it will be the last thing ye ever say.”

Owen straightened. He was about the same height as Alex but where Alex was broad-shouldered, Owen was whipcord thin and had a wiry physique that suggested great strength. He raised an eyebrow and stared Alex in the eye, an insolent smile curling his lips.

“Is that so? Ye really think ye are something special dinna ye, Lord Murray? Ye think ye have the right to swagger around and speak to the rest of us as if ye are the lord and we the peasants. Ye think ye are better than the rest of us. But ye aren’t. Ye are a liar and a betrayer, just like us. Ye might have been noble once but ye threw that all away. Or have ye forgotten that?”

“Shut yer mouth,” Alex growled.

“What’s wrong? Ye dinna want yer whore to know the truth about ye?”

Owen turned to Bree. “What has he told ye, my dear? That he’ll look after ye? That he’ll care for ye? That ye can trust him? Dinna believe a word of it. If ye want the truth, ask him why he’s here serving Lord Donald Sinclair instead of his clan. The truth is that Alexander Murray is just like the rest of us: a brigand and an outlaw. He’s a criminal who was sentenced to death for his crimes. Only Lord Donald’s father’s intervention kept him from the noose. Isnae that right, Lord Murray? Tell her how ye are an honorless brute with nay right to yer family name.”

Alex roared and charged at Owen. The two men began trading punches so fast Bree could barely keep track. They moved with sinuous grace, highly trained fighters who’d done this many times before. They ducked and parried and spun and kicked, dust flying from under their boots and the crack of fists hitting flesh loud in the air.

Then suddenly there was the flash of steel and swords appeared in their hands and the thuds were replaced by the high-pitched ringing of metal against metal. Neither man held back. Their blades whirred so fast they left blurred images behind them. Back and forth they went, the zing of striking metal sounding around them.

Bree’s heart leapt into her mouth. “Alex!”

Suddenly Owen’s sword went flying out of his hand and landed in the dirt with a thud. Owen backed away but tripped and fell on his backside in the dirt. Alex pressed his blade against Owen’s throat.

Alex’s chest was heaving, sweat matting his golden hair to the sides of his face and there was a look in his eyes that sent a wave of fear down Bree’s spine. It was feral. Wild. Frightening.

“Do it!” Owen hissed. He glared defiantly up at Alex. “Add murder to yer list of crimes!”

Alex’s arm quivered and Bree realized with horror that he might really kill Owen.

“No!” she cried, staggering to Alex’s side. “Don’t!” She laid her hand on the arm that held the sword. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t do it.”

Alex blinked then looked at her. His eyes seemed to clear, the wildness abating a little. “Bree?”

“Put the sword away, Alex. Please.”

He looked down at the blade in his hand and then at Owen glaring up at him. Slowly, he withdrew his sword and sheathed it. Bree let out a breath she hadn’t even known she’d been holding.

From behind came the sound of slow clapping. Startled, she turned to see Lord Donald standing nearby with his men arrayed around him. How long had they been standing there? How much had they seen?

Alex turned to face his lord and lifted his chin, glaring defiance. He took a half-step forward, putting himself between Bree and the others.

“Get up, Owen,” Lord Donald said coldly.

Owen scrambled to his feet. “He attacked me, my lord. He is feral and should be put down. I—”

“Silence!” Lord Donald roared. “I saw what happened. I saw ye harassing Lady Martin, my guest.”

“But...but...” Owen spluttered. “She’s just a woman. I thought to have some sport, that’s all. I wouldnae have harmed her.”

“Would ye not?” Lord Donald’s voice had gone dangerously quiet. He stepped close to Owen. “Ye behave like a spoiled youth, Owen, and have less brains than one. I am tired of cleaning up yer mess. Take him away.”

Several of his men stepped forward and dragged Owen off, to a shower of protests and curses. Lord Donald’s gaze fell on Alex. The two men watched each other in silence. Alex said not a word but he looked angry, like he was ready to kick off again if this went wrong. Bree found herself holding her breath as the moment stretched. Then Lord Donald finally nodded.

“Ye have my gratitude, Alex, for protecting my assets.” He raised his voice so that his men could hear. “Lady Breanne Martin is off limits. Any man who touches her will feel my wrath! Garth!”

A man appeared out of the crowd. “Escort Lady Martin to a more secure chamber and this time ensure she canna get out.”

“Aye, my lord.” Garth grabbed Bree by the elbow. “This way, my lady.”

As Garth led her away, Bree glanced at Alex, trying to get his attention, trying to detect any sign, any hint of what this was all about. But there was nothing. Alex stared at the ground. She may as well not have existed at all.