The moon hung fulland silver, painting everything in shades of pewter and shadow. Trees rustled in the distance, their leaves whispering secrets to the wind. The air tasted of heather and pine and earth, rich, complex flavors that made the stale air of her chambers seem like a pale imitation of life itself.
And the space.God, the space. No walls pressing close, no ceiling hanging low overhead. Just endless sky and open ground and freedom stretching out in every direction.
Maia's eyesburned with tears she fought hard to push back.
"Easy,"the man said, and she realized she was trembling in his arms. His grip on her loosened slightly, as if preparing to set her on her feet, but he didn't release her entirely. "Daenae go faintin' on me now. We're nae out of danger yet. Time to go."
The man'svoice was still calm, but Maia now heard the edge of urgency beneath it. He shifted her in his arms, adjusting his grip, and started moving—not running yet, but walking with long, purposeful strides that ate up the ground quickly.
Maia's handstightened on his shoulders again as she was jostled against his chest.
I should be terrified right now. Shouldbe screamin' for help, fightin' to get free, doing anythin' to alert the guards to our exact position.
But I am nae.
God help me,I am nae afraid at all.
Oh,there was fear, certainly—a bright thread of it winding through her chest, making her breath come quick and shallow. But it wasn't fear of this man who'd stolen her away. It wasn't fear of what he might do to her, or where he might take her.
It wasfear that the guards would catch them. Fear that she'd be dragged back to that tower room, locked away even more securely than before. Fear that this taste of freedom—this brief, glorious taste—would be snatched away before she could truly savor it.
This might beme only chance,me only chance to escape.
The man had takenher to use as leverage against her uncle, true. But Callen Ferguson didn't care about her; he'd made that abundantly clear over six long years.
When this strangerrealized his captive was worthless as a bargaining chip, when he understood that taking her had accomplished nothing...
Maybe,just maybe, he'd let her go.
And when he did,she'd run to one of the neighboring clans, throw herself on their mercy, beg for sanctuary.
Or perhaps fleeto a convent and become a nun.
Or she'd disappearinto a village somewhere, find work as a seamstress or a scullery maid, live a simple life far from nobility and politics and uncles who saw her as nothing more than an obstacle to power.
It was a mad plan.A desperate plan, probably doomed to fail.
But it was morehope than she'd had in years.
"There! By the east wall!"
The shout camefrom somewhere to their left. Maia twisted in the man's arms to see a cluster of guards pouring out of a side door, torches held high, swords drawn. They spotted her and her captor almost immediately.
"Stop!Stop in the name of Laird MacMahon!"
The man carryingher didn't even slow down. If anything, his stride lengthened, his arms tightening around her as he broke into a run. Maia bounced against his chest, her shift riding up dangerously on her thighs, but she barely noticed. She was too focused on the guards behind them, on the sound of pursuing footsteps growing louder.
"Release the Miss!"Another voice, this one she recognized, Hamish, one of the guards who'd escorted her to her chambers just hours ago. "Release her and ye might live through this night!"
A dark chucklerumbled through the man's chest, vibrating against Maia's side. "They always say that too," he muttered, more to himself than to her.
He vaultedover a low stone wall without breaking stride, landing on the other side with a grace that shouldn't have been possible while carrying her weight. Maia gasped, clinging tighter, her heart in her throat as the ground blurred beneath them.
They were crossingthe outer courtyard now, heading toward the stables. Maia could smell hay and horse and leather, could hear animals stirring restlessly as the alarm bells continued their frantic song.
Somewhere behind them,more guards joined the chase. She could hear them calling to each other, coordinating, trying to cut off escape routes.
But her captorseemed to know exactly where he was going.
