One of the Sinclair scouts stood in the stirrups and let out a piercing whistle. It was a signal meant to carry.
Then all four scouts wheeled their horses and burst into a full gallop across the ridge. Another whistle followed, but this time, it was a bone-deep, ululating call that echoed across the moor.
Davina’s horse jolted violently at the noise.
“Easy, lad, easy!” she gasped, but the animal had already reared back in panic.
“Davina!” Baird spurred forward.
She lost her seat in the next heartbeat. Her foot slipped from the stirrup. Her balance pitched sideways. The reins tore through her fingers.
For Baird, the world seemed to slow.
Davina’s body tipped dangerously, her hair whipping across her face as she fell backward off the saddle. A soft, terrified sound escaped her lips.
Baird didn’t think. He didn’t even breathe. Hemoved.
He kicked out of his own stirrups, launching himself from his horse with a force that tore the breath from his lungs. Mud splashed under his boots as he sprinted the last few steps. Davina’s shoulder struck his chest just as gravity wrenched her downward.
He caught her… not cleanly, for she collided with him hard enough to knock him back a step, but he managed to wind his arms tightly around her waist, hauling her against him before she could hit the ground. Her breath burst out in a sharp cry asher weight collapsed into him. Behind them, her riderless horse bolted forward with a panicked whinny.
Davina clutched at Baird’s coat. Her fingers were trembling, while her nails were scraping into the fabric as if anchoring herself to the only solid thing in the world. Her breath hitched against his chest. His heart slammed against his ribs.
“Are ye hurt?” he rasped through fear he had never felt before.
She shook her head, though she was pale, wide-eyed. “N-nay… I just… I lost the reins.”
“I saw.” Baird swallowed hard, tightening his hold without meaning to. “I’ve got ye. Ye’re safe.”
He forced himself to loosen his grip on Davina, though every instinct screamed to keep her pressed against him close and safe, where nothing could reach her. He turned sharply to his men.
“Four of ye stay with Lady Kincaid. Ye are nae tae leave her side, nae fer a single moment.”
The guards immediately circled Davina, but she reached out toward him. “Baird, wait?—”
He swung onto his horse in one fluid, angry motion. “Davis! Ewan! With me!”
Two guards spurred forward at once.
Davina stepped into the mud after him. “Where are ye going?”
“Tae follow them,” Baird snapped. He didn’t soften his tone; hecouldn’t. Not with adrenaline flooding his veins and with the image of her falling going over and over in his mind. “They came too close. I mean tae see why.”
Her horse, now calmer in a guard’s hold, snorted nervously. Davina planted a hand on the saddle for balance and looked up at Baird.
“Just… be careful!”
The wind caught the plea and carried it, thin and fragile, across the moor. Baird froze. Her worry wasn’t polite, nor dutiful, nor the empty concern a wife was expected to show. No… her voice trembled like someone who genuinely feared losing him. And that undid him in ways he had no defenses against.
He wanted to turn back. He wanted to promise her he would return. But his throat tightened, closing around the words. He was still furious at everything, at the scouts, at the danger creeping closer, at himself, but most of all, he was furious that for one terrifying moment, he thought he’d lost her.
So, he didn’t answer. Instead, he jerked the reins sharply and his horse surged forward. The cold air was slicing at his face, and branches were whipping past as he veered off the main path andinto the narrow break in the trees only he and his men knew. His guards followed closely behind, their horses thundering in rhythm with his own.
“This shortcut will bring us ahead of them,” Baird reminded his guards.
Their clan had hunted these woods since before he was born. Every bend, every ditch, every deer trail lived in Baird’s muscles as surely as bone. And tonight, those paths carried him straight toward the men who had dared come too close to Davina.
They burst through a thicket of birch trees and onto a ridge overlooking the lower path. There, he saw the four Sinclair scouts riding hard, completely unaware. Baird’s fury snapped like a whip.
