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Douglas hadn’t imagined himself getting married, but it had been the only way to ensure Lyndsay’s safety. Even then, it was still a risk; she was bound to him and thus was offered protection from anyone taking her without her consent, but she was still English, and such a thing was not going to be looked upon favorably. He had no idea how he was going to explain this to his uncle, but he hoped that by the time they returned to the Highlands he would have thought of an explanation.

The feeling of her lips against his lingered. It was a warm, sticky feeling, as though honey drenched his insides. Kissing Lyndsay hadn’t been quite like anything he had experienced before. There had been other women, of course, for he was a vigorous warrior, potent and impressive, with urges that needed to be indulged. But these other women had only offered him fleeting moments of physical pleasure, a flurry of lust that burned brightly and then diminished like the light from a shooting star. The emotion that Lyndsay stirred within him was perennial, special, and it glowed more brightly than anything else. Kissing her had been transcendent. For a moment, he had genuinely believed that he had been floating when with her, and it was only because of the urgency of the moment that he was not left completely reeling. She was a transformative woman, and he would never have thought that such a petite lass like her, especially an English one no less, could have had such an effect on him.

Now her arms were wrapped around his body. A ribbon still bound their wrists together. Her hooded head leaned against his back. As the horse thundered away from the burning building, he could feel Lyndsay’s trembling breaths and the frantic beating of her heart. He was possessed by this desire, this need to protect her as though she was his own. He supposed that now that they were married, she was.

He glanced back to look at the orange hue that lit up the night. The great building was aflame, with fire licking the windows and running up and down the walls. Smoke poured out of the building and coated the air in a thick haze, making it impossible to make out any details other than that grim destruction was occurring. There was a heaviness in Douglas’s heart. While he was a fighter, he had never considered himself a destroyer. To burn that house away was to burn away all the potential of living there, of making it his own, of settling down.

His uncle had promised him that one day things would change, that one day all of the other Highland clans would kneel before them and offer them their swords and their respect. It was always one day in the future, though, so far off as to twinkle like a distant star. The older Douglas got, the more he wondered if this day was ever going to arrive. If things were different, then he could have been given that estate and known what it was like to be his own man. As it was, it just burned, and he had to continue life as usual, forever hoping to bask in the shadow of his uncle’s glory.

Except it wasn’t entirely as usual, for now he had Lyndsay. There was still the possibility of releasing her into the wild so that she might find her own way to safety. It may well be the only way to prevent her from being hurt, but the possibility did not sit well in his stomach. Now that he knew her, now that she was a part of his life, he did not wish to let her leave. There was something about her that made the air sweeter, that made the world brighter, that made him want to be a better man.

The air crackled behind him, and the heat was at his back. He rubbed his horse’s neck gently to ensure that the horse would not lose its mind and run away in a random direction. It was difficult to see too much through the smoke and the darkness, but he made out a few silhouettes moving, and he could hear the shouts of his men. His throat tightened when he thought about what might happen should Lyndsay be discovered. Douglas’s mind worked quickly. If he stayed with his men, the truth would be revealed, while if he went in another direction, he would be alone in this unsafe land where he was marked as a target for the English army. While he was a mighty warrior, he doubted he could take on an army alone. His best bet was to try and use the darkness to cover him and make it back to the Highlands, where he could think without the threat of being hunted hanging over his mind.

Branches crunched, and leaves rustled under the force of his horse’s hooves. He could feel Lyndsay’s nerves and her sorrow permeating through to him. It was as though the act of bonding had linked their hearts together in some ethereal way, allowing him to have a window into her mind.

He quickly squeezed her hand, hoping to reassure her, although he wasn’t sure how successful he had been.

The air cleared as they left the vicinity of the house. The smoke gave way to the shadows of the forest. Pinpricks of stars filtered through the canopy of leaves, and there were shards of moonlight that penetrated the forest occasionally. The sound of his men’s horses accompanied them, but Douglas kept himself separate. He whispered for Lyndsay to keep her head down, hoping to make it back to the Highlands without being noticed.

It was a vain hope, though. Douglas saw the shadows through the trees, heading in his direction. He almost wished they had been the English, for then he could have killed them without any trouble or hesitation. But it was Fergus leading another group of men.

“It’s good ye made it out!” Fergus said, raising his voice so he could be heard over the sound of the rushing hooves. “When I didnae see ye, I worried ye haed been trapped in the building.”

“Well, it was good that ye came in tae look for me,” Douglas replied sharply. It was dark enough that he couldn’t see the features of Fergus’s face, but he was certain that Fergus wore a serpent’s smile.

“Anyone would hae been crazy tae run intae that blaze,” Fergus said, and then geed his horse on to overtake Douglas. Douglas reared up before he clattered into Fergus. He ended up standing in a pool of moonlight.

“What in blazes are ye daeing?” Douglas exclaimed as the horse whinnied and reared back on its hind legs. Douglas felt Lyndsay’s grip tighten around his chest. If it had been in any other circumstance, he would have found the gesture touching and arousing.

Fergus furrowed his brow. “Aye, I thought I saw something else behind ye. What dae ye hae there?”

A low growl emanated from Douglas’s throat. “It’s none of yer business, and we hae no time tae stay here. The English are coming. We hae tae get back tae safe ground.”

It was a valid warning, but Fergus didn’t seem to be interested at all. He dismounted his horse and approached Douglas. Douglas stiffened.

“What do we do?” Lyndsay asked in the softest whisper Douglas had ever heard. He wasn’t sure what answer to give her.

“Fergus, we dinnae hae time for this. It’s just one of our men who was dragged from the fire. He’s burned and doesnae want tae show his face. Let’s be on our way and leave this all behind,” Douglas said, trying to hide the desperation from his voice. The other men had formed a semi-circle around him, and Fergus seemed intent to get to the heart of this small mystery. He walked right up to the horse and reached out. Douglas was tempted to stop him but knew it would only confirm that he had something to hide. There seemed to be no way out other than the truth.

Indeed, Fergus grabbed the hood of Lyndsay’s cloak and pulled it back sharply, making Lyndsay exclaim in pain. “What are you doing? Get your hands off me!” she cried without thinking.

There was an audible gasp from the Highlanders, who had certainly not been expecting to hear an English voice in their midst. Douglas’s heart sank.

“Well, well, well,” Fergus said with a knowing smile. “Looks as though ye smuggled yer own treasure from the house before it burned. Very clever of ye, Douglas. I haed my suspicions about what ye haed in that room. It’s very selfish of ye tae keep an English lass all tae yerself. I thought we shared the spoils of war between us.” Each word dripped from his mouth with hatred. His eyes flashed with greed, almost as if he knew that this had been a mistake on Douglas’s part, and now it was his opportunity to capitalize. Douglas knew it too. He could feel the mood change in the air. The other Highlanders glared at him.

“What dae ye think, men?” Fergus continued, spinning away from the horse and stretching out his arms to face the other Highlanders. “Dinnae ye think it would hae made the last day gae by better if we could hae enjoyed this English slut along with Douglas? After all, they’ve taken enough of our women over the years. I knew she would hae nae been as good as our Highland girls, but it would hae been fun tae see how many of our swords she could hae taken.” There was a suggestive tone to his voice that Douglas didn’t like. He heard a small whimper emerge from behind him, although none of the others heard it because they were all cackling with laughter.

“Dinnae talk about her like that,” Douglas said, cutting through the laughs.

The men fell silent.

Fergus turned around with a dark look on his face.

“Dinnae talk about her like that? Why? She’s just a common English whore. How should I talk about her? The only reason ye kept her alive was tae plow her like a field, and it’s very selfish of ye tae keep her for yerself when sae many of yer men are in need. That’s nae how a leader behaves, Douglas, and I am ashamed of ye. We’re all supposed tae share in the spoils of war, and ye hae kept her for yerself. In fact, I would gae sae far tae say that it’s treason.”

Douglas couldn’t help but laugh. “Treason? Be on with ye, Fergus. I am the leader, and it’s my right tae keep whatever spoils I want for myself.”