Reid dragged a hand over his face, willing his eyes to remain focused on the trail of horse hooves through the snow. The tracks looked fresher than they had an hour past. They were gaining ground, which meant he was closer to Corinne. And closer to whoever had taken her.

Ahead between the trees, the snow appeared disturbed. He leaned forward, squinting through the dark woods.

“Hold,” he ordered as they came upon the churned snow. “They appear to have stopped here.”

He swung down from his horse’s back and searched the stirred ground, looking for any sign to give him hope that Corinne was unharmed. His gaze landed on a smattering of red in the snow nearby. Blood. He swore on all that was holy that if it was Corinne’s, he would make her kidnappers pay one hundred-fold.

“The tracks continue north,” Alain said from atop his horse, his gaze locked on the ground ahead of them.

Reid should have mounted then and pushed them all after the trail. He was closing in, he was sure of it. Yet something made him hesitate. Some instinct drew his gaze from the spots of blood to the two pairs of boot prints leading to a large pine tree. One set of prints was large and wide—a man’s tracks. But the other was slim like a woman’s.

Reid followed the prints to the tree. He scanned the area, but the tracks turned back the way they’d come. Naught seemed amiss.

Just as he turned away, his gaze caught on something off-white stuck into the tree’s bark. He reached for it, and when he pulled it free, his heart leapt into his throat.

“I found something!” he called to the others. They dismounted and hurried to his side as he held up the bit of parchment.

With shaking hands, he unfolded the parchment and angled it to capture what weak light there was to be had amongst the night-dark trees. A knot of dread tightened in his stomach. It was addressed to Corinne.

“‘I was sorry to hear of your decision to withhold your gift from God’s service, but I understand that you must serve your husband and your new clan,’” Reid read aloud. This wasn’t the first time someone had written to her? Inferring from the words, the writer had offered her a position as a scribe—which she’d turned down. For him.

He continued reading, but after a few more sentences, ice stole through his veins. Reid knew this area. He’d lived on Mackenzie land all his life and had traveled a great deal throughout Scotland in service of the Bruce.

There was no such place as Drumleigh Abbey.

He glanced up to find that the others had realized the same thing, for their faces were set in grim lines.

Reid hurriedly finished the missive, then lowered it. “This was a trap for Corinne,” he rasped. “This is what they used to draw her away from the castle.”

“Do ye suspect Father Ewan?” Alain asked softly.

“Nay,” Reid replied without hesitation. “I imagine whoever arranged this simply used his name because they kenned Corinne would trust Father Ewan.”

“Lady Corinne trusted Gellis, too,” Hamond murmured. “That MacDonnell lady’s maid was the last person seen with her.”

That, paired with the scrap of MacDonnell plaid next to the lock of Corinne’s hair, made it seem all the more likely that the MacDonnells had something to do with this. It made no sense, just as Alain had said, but Reid couldn’t think rationally knowing that Corinne was in danger.

He crushed the sheet of parchment in his fist, but as it crinkled, a marking on the other side caught his eye. He turned the parchment over, and the air in his lungs froze.

Though the script was coarse, he would recognize Corinne’s hand anywhere. Only a single word had been scratched onto the parchment.

Trap.

The others must have followed his gaze, for Hamond let out a slow breath and Alain and Leith each muttered a curse.

“It still doesnae make sense for the MacDonnells to kidnap Corinne,” Alain said, clearly attempting to level all of their heads. “But even if they did, they are only leading us deeper into MacDonnell land.” He nodded toward the tracks that continued northward. “If this is some sort of trap, we’ll be riding right into it, with four men against however many they’ll have.”

A distant voice whispered that Alain was right, but Reid didn’t care. There would be no stopping him now. The parchment was proof that Corinne was still alive—or at least that she’d been alive a few hours past. He would ride straight into Lucifer’s mouth to save her.

“We’ll stay on the alert,” Reid said, striding back toward his horse. “But we’ll follow the tracks.”

Even if Alain and the others had doubts, none of them hesitated. They mounted up swiftly and set out once more. Their loyalty to him, and their dedication to saving Corinne, was one sliver of light cutting through the black fears that consumed Reid as they rode through the night.

 

*   *   *   *

 

When dawn broke and the snow stopped falling, Reid pushed them even harder. But it was two more hours until he saw another sign that had him reining in his horse.

The River Elchaig cut across the flat, white-coated plain over which they’d been riding. Where it forked, the trail of hoof prints was muddled once more, indicating that Corinne’s kidnappers had stopped again.

He and the others dismounted, scanning the ground for clues.

“It looks like there was a scuffle here,” Leith called a dozen paces away. At his feet, the snow had been flattened.

Reid swallowed hard, keeping a tight leash on his thoughts lest he spiral into a rage over what the churned snow might indicate. He followed the same woman’s footprints to a large rock near the river. He found more disturbed ground, but this time the snow had been pushed away completely from a little patch of dirt.

“Someone must have cleared that since the snow stopped falling,” Alain said, joining his side. “That was…two hours past.”

Reid’s heart surged. They were still gaining ground. He crouched, looking closer at the hard-packed dirt.

“What in…”

Ever so faintly, something had been carved into the frozen ground.

“M. A. C…”

Alain leaned closer, squinting at the lettering.

Confusion swamped Reid as he stared at the final marking. “What is that?” It should have been a D for MacDonnell, yet only the downward slash of the letter had been made, and it was at an angle, cutting away from the first three letters.

“It isnae the MacDonnells,” Alain said, his eyes going wide. “That is half of a V—for MacVale.”

Realization slammed so hard into Reid that he felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Of course,” he breathed.

He’d been a fool, blinded by fear and rage at the thought of Corrine being hurt. But just as Alain had said, everything pointed too obviously toward the MacDonnells when there was no cause for them to take Corinne.

The MacVales, on the other hand, had everything to gain from the situation. Though Reid had never met the MacVale Laird, Arthur MacDonnell had spoken vehemently against Serlon MacVale many a time. The man was manipulative, deceitful, and most of all greedy, according to MacDonnell.

If he chose, Laird MacVale could ransom Corinne back to Reid, thus hobbling the Mackenzie clan in terms of coin and supplies, which would force Reid to withdraw his aid to the MacDonnells. Some instinct told him that MacVale likely wouldn’t stop there, however. He had sown discontent along his border with the MacDonnells for decades now. He would undoubtedly seek to strike his enemies—and their allies—with a far greater blow.

“If he wants a war, he’ll have one,” Reid bit out, staring at the ground.

Just then, Hamond and Leith arrived at his side. Alain quickly explained what they’d found—another message from Corinne that just might save an alliance, not to mention many men’s lives.

“But the trail continues north, right toward the MacDonnell keep,” Leith said, pointing to the fork of the river that wound northward. Sure enough, two sets of tracks edged the river.

Yet instinct told Reid that the MacVales who’d kidnapped Corinne wouldn’t risk going farther into MacDonnell land in broad daylight. To the east lay MacVale land—and Corinne, he was certain.

“Leith, ye and Hamond ride north,” Reid ordered. “Get to the MacDonnell keep as fast as ye can and tell the Laird what is afoot. The MacVales have Corinne and are trying to incite a war between the MacDonnells and Mackenzies.”

Leith and Hamond nodded and hustled to their horses.

“And what of ye and I?” Alain asked, his voice low.

“We ride for MacVale land.”