The following excerpt is unedited and may differ from the final format and/or published work.

Prologue

The heat from the blaze burned her cheeks as if she’d stayed out in the sun too long. Flames licked the manor’s façade and had already begun to dance behind the black clouds smoke billowing out of the nursery’s windows. The sight sent a wave of terror through her unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

“Oh dear God, Charlie. Willie.” Her anguished cry echoed loudly in her ears, but the pandemonium surrounding her ensured no one heard her.

Cries went up into the air as someone pointed toward the side of the house that wasn’t on fire. She jerked her head toward the sound and saw her nephew, Jamie, quickly walking toward where she, Constance, and Helen stood with the servants who had fled the fire. Following close behind Jamie was Theo. Imogene drew up the rear carrying a small bundle in her arms. Helen and Constance both cried out with joy and ran toward the children.

Frantically, she looked past the children searching for more figures hurrying toward them, but there was only darkness. For what seemed an eternity, only darkness filled her vision until Nanny emerged from the shadows carrying Charlie in her arms. A cry of relief flew past her lips as she met the older woman halfway to pull her oldest son into her arms. He was crying wildly and choked her as he flung his small arms around her neck.

Tears flowed down her cheeks as she kissed her son repeatedly and examined him for any burns. Relieved to find him unharmed, the emotion evaporated as she turned back toward the empty shadows. Inside her chest, her heart pounded a fierce beat not unlike a racehorse’s hooves hitting the dirt as it ran. Charlie still in her arms, she saw a shadowy figure moving into the light. The sight of Aunt Matilda hurrying toward them with Tilly cradled close to her breast made Helen cry out with happiness. Her sister-in-law ran forward with an outstretched arm to pull her daughter as she kept Theo close to her side.

Another cry filled the air, and she jerked her gaze back toward the dark side of the house to see a footman hurrying toward them with Braxton in his arms. The terror and fear gripping her muscles made her tighten her grip on Charlie as the heat of the fire reached out to taunt her as if it was laughing at her fear.

“Angus!” Helen cried out in relief as footman emerged from the darkness with her son in his arms.

All the children were sobbing in fear, and the sound scraped across her senses as if someone were slicing into her with a sharp knife. Dear God, where were Willie and Devin? The fear slithering through her closed off her throat until it became difficult to breathe. Tears blurred her vision as she buried her face in Charlie’s hair and prayed as she’d never done before in her life. This time it was Aunt Matilda who cried out as two more footmen rounded the house with children in their arms.

“There! Willie. Alma. Saints be praised,” Aunt Matilda exclaimed in loud relief.

With a cry of joy, Louisa hurried forward with Charlie still pressed tightly against her chest to pull Willie close with her free arm. Tears of relief streamed down her cheeks as she clutched both of her children close. The boys’ tears wet the thin wrap of her night robe, and she tried to soothe them as they clung to her with a desperate terror she was feeling too. Suddenly a feral scream pierced the night.

The blood-curdling cry sent an invisible, icy hand brushing over her back. She turned with a jerk to stare in horror at the façade of her home burning brightly in the darkness. Another dreadful shriek echoed out into the night. It repeated itself until it became one continuous filling the air. It was the cry of a wounded animal in agony. Terror swept through her as the scream ended abruptly as a split-second later a loud crash filled the air. The violent noise was followed by flames erupting out of the nursery windows as the fire began to engulfed half of the house that had already reached the main entryway.

Another wild scream echoed from the second story combined with male shouts of panic. The sounds pulled a loud gasp from the small crowd staring at the burning building. It was a collective breath of horror that died away into silence until the only thing filling the air was the roar of the fire, the soft sound of sobbing children, and the distant clanging of bells from a fire brigade that was already too late.

Indistinguishable male shouts of helpless anger and fear poured out of the burning house. The panic in the male voices sent a sudden stillness through her as she turned her head to account for every child. They were all here. That only left the men and…

“Patience, where is Patience?” she cried out as her gaze searched the people surrounding her. Constance took up her cry as Aunt Matilda’s face became ashen.

Without hesitating, Louisa kissed her boys’ cheeks and whispered reassurances she would return as she gave each of them into the arms of a maid and footman. Spurred by the fear her aunt appeared ready to collapse, she hurried to Aunt Matilda’s side. The woman swayed on her feet, and she quickly wrapped her arm around her aunt to keep her from falling to the ground.

“Constance!” she called out with a quick glance behind her. In seconds, her older sister was on the other side of their aunt to help ensure the older woman remained standing. As Louisa touched her aunt’s arm, the older woman began to tremble and it shot a bolt of dread through her.

“Patience,” her aunt rasped softly. “She and Caleb stayed behind tae ensure the children were safe.”

“Oh, dear God,” she whispered as she met the matriarch’s horrified gaze and an image of Patience’s happy smile filled her mind.

A barely audible cry of horror escaped her aunt, before a violent tremor pulsated out of her. It heightened Louisa’s fear as she watched the Scotswoman close her eyes. The sudden look of stark grief accentuating the gray pallor of her aunt’s face made her go rigid. The an dara sealladh. Aunt Matilda had seen something that had rocked her to the core.

Another image of Patience flashed before her eyes before Caleb’s somber features flashed in front of her. It wasn’t possible. She refused to believe it. The Rockwoods always rose to a challenge. They never accepted defeat. She couldn’t have lost both of her siblings in one single moment in time.

In the next breath, guilt made her tremble. Her first thought had been for her brother and sister’s safety, not Devin’s. She closed her eyes as she remembered the last words she’d screamed at her husband. They’d been terrible words. Startled by Constance’s unexpected, tight grip on the arm she’d braced against her aunt’s back, Louisa jerked her gaze toward her sister. Tears shimmered in her older sister’s eyes as their eyes met. The an dara sealladh. The family gift had shown Constance something too.

“What? What have you seen, Constance?”

A shout went up from people surrounding her before she could press her sister for an answer. She turned her head toward the house and saw a small party of men moving in the shadows. Julian was the first one she recognized. When she saw Patience in his arms, she drew in a breath of relief. Lucien, Percy, and Sebastian followed close behind their brother-in-law. Soot covered their faces, but it didn’t hide the dark, grim emotion hardening their faces.

Constance and Helen both released quiet sobs of relief as they ran into the arms of their husbands. She glanced briefly at Julian laying Patience on the grass with Percy kneeling at her side then turned her attention back to the darkness. The fire was spreading quickly now, and the shadows that had shrouded the side of the house were giving way to the light of the blaze.

A wave of dread swept through her as she frantically looked past Sebastian searching for Devin and Caleb. When they didn’t stride into view, Aunt Matilda grabbed Louisa’s hand.

“It will be all right, my darling lass.”

The quiet words of sorrow wrapped around Louisa’s body like a vicious band of metal. Fear and guilt engulfed her with the same strength and power as the fire consuming her and Devin’s home. Tugging free of her aunt’s hold, she leapt toward her eldest brother and grabbed his arm.

“Where are they? Where’s Caleb? Devin?”

Her demands for an answer were met by silence as Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment then shook his head. She took several quick steps back from her oldest brother as shock pounded its way into every cell of her body. She whirled around to face the manor that had now spread to the opposite side of the house. The sting of guilt and pain lashed at as if someone were striking her with a whip. Without thinking, she rushed toward the front door and the flames shooting out into the night. She barely heard the cries of fear behind, and she’d only take a few short steps before a strong hand yanked her to a halt.

“Stop, Louisa.” Sebastian’s voice was harsh and commanding. As she stared up at him, her brother’s face darkened with a deep sorrow. “There’s nothing more we can do. Caleb. Devin. They’re gone. Both of them.”

“You’re lying,” she screamed as she struck out at her brother. “Let me go. We can’t just leave them in there.”

She twisted her arm trying to break her brother’s grip on her arm as she looked back at the house and screamed Devin’s name again. She heard Sebastian speaking quietly in her ear, but not his words. Fighting like a madwoman, she broke free of her brother’s grasp and ran back toward the house. A second later Sebastian’s his arms wrapped around her to hold her close against his chest. Still fighting his embrace, she screamed Devin’s name over and over again. Her wild cries shattered the night as guilt slashed into her very soul then swallowed her whole and everything went black.

Chapter 1

November 1899

“Madison said you wanted to see me?”

Louisa smiled at her eldest brother as she closed his study’s door behind her. As she sat down into one of the chairs facing his desk she frowned at the serious expression on his face as he turned away from her to stare out the window. After several moments of silence it was impossible not to prod him into speaking.

“What’s wrong, Sebastian? Has something terrible happened?” Fear rose up inside her as she tried to remember where the boys were. A second later she began to breathe easier as she remembered they were in the nursery doing their lessons. Sebastian cleared his throat then circled the large mahogany desk to sit in the chair next to hers.

“Louisa, as the head of the family—”

“Clearly you’re about to lecture me on some transgression.” She smiled at him, despite her sudden sense of unease.

The instant Sebastian grimaced, her heart sank. It was obvious he was uncomfortable with whatever he wanted to discuss with her. It was unlike him. All her life she’d looked up to Sebastian. Where she was impetuous and prone to fits of anger, her brother had been the exact opposite.

With the exception of when Helen had been kidnapped by the Marquess of Templeton, the oldest Rockwood sibling was always controlled and unflappable. Although in recent years he wasn’t quite as rigid as he’d been before Helen came into his life. To see him hesitate now only increased her tension.

“No, I have no intention of lecturing you.” A frown furrowed his brow as he dropped his gaze to study the floor for a long moment then raised his head to look at her with a resolute expression. “It’s time to let go, Louisa.”

“Let go of what?” she replied innocently, although she knew precisely what her brother meant.

“Do not pretend to be obtuse, Louisa, it doesn’t suit you,” Sebastian snapped before he released an oath beneath his breath.

“What is it you really want to say, Sebastian?”

She was now certain she knew what the discussion was about, but she refused to make it easy for him. His status as head of the family didn’t grant him carte blanche to question her behavior. It was a Rockwood trait to meddle in the affairs of loved ones with the goal of ensuring happiness for their family.

But this was different. Hers wasn’t a wound of the heart, it was the guilt that crushed her with every waking moment. Even in sleep she wasn’t completely free from nightmares. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, he narrowed his eyes at her.

“It’s time to start living again. You’re far too young to grieve in the same manner as the Queen has done for years. You cannot give up on life when it has so much to offer.”

“And what does it have to offer?” she said as she heard the bitterness in her voice.

“A great deal if you would simply visit us here in London more often and reenter society.”

“I do visit you here. In fact, I’ve been here for almost two months,” she snapped as she glared at him. Sebastian scowled back.

“And in that time, you’ve rarely gone out. Other than Helen’s and my anniversary party, working at White Willow House, and attending the occasional opera or theater with Percy and Rhea, you’ve more of a recluse,” Sebastian growled in obvious frustration. “You don’t receive callers, you don’t make social calls, or accepted any of the invitations that have been delivered to the house . You’ve even refused to go for a drive in the park with Helen or Constance.”

“Is that all that’s troubling you?” Louisa released a soft noise of disgust. “My lack of inclination to attend frivolous events?”

“They didn’t used to be so frivolous for you.”

She shook her head as she struggled with Sebastian’s words. It was true she’d always loved going to parties, but she’d been younger then. Now her shoulders bore the heavy weight of anger, pain, and guilt. When she didn’t answer him, Sebastian released a sound of irritation.

“Damn it to hell, Louisa. The fire was an accident. A terrible, unfortunate accident. No one is responsible for that damn log knocking over that fire screen and setting the manor on fire.” The ferocity of his reply startled her, and she jumped as his words settled in her brain.

“I know that,” she said softly as she looked away from him.

“Then end your mourning. It’s been more than two years now. It’s time to start living again—see old friends.”

“Society no longer holds any interest for me. I like my life as it is.”

“Of course you do,” Sebastian growled. “You hide yourself away in the abbey with only Aunt Matilda and the boys for company. That’s not living.”

“You know good and well that I have always loved staying at the abbey. How many times did you threaten to punish me by sending me there, only to realize it wouldn’t be a punishment at all?”

“You’re no longer a child.”

“True. I’m a grown woman who doesn’t need her oldest brother dictating to her as to how she should grieve for her dead husband.”

“It isn’t my intent to dictate how you grieve, Louisa, but there’s more to it than that, isn’t there.”

Sebastian’s quiet words made her grow still as a hare sensing danger. She swallowed hard, uncertainty flooding through her as she met her brother’s steady gaze. Surely he couldn’t know the truth. If he did, she wasn’t sure she could bear to see the disappointment in his eyes at the way she’d sent Devin to his death. When she didn’t speak, Sebastian shook his head slightly.

“The night of the fire, I was unable to sleep and decided to retrieve a book from the library. It was difficult not to hear you and Devin fighting when I passed your door on my way downstairs.” Sebastian paused slightly as sorrow darkened his handsome features. “The irony of my timing is not lost on me. If I’d gone downstairs just an hour or so later, I might have been able to prevent the entire disaster.”

“You mustn’t say that. You said yourself it was an accident,” she exclaimed softly as she caught her hand in his in a gesture of comfort and reassurance.

“And it was an accident, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have regrets, just as I suspect you do.”

Louisa dropped her brother’s hand as if it were a hot iron. She refused to confess to him, or anyone, the terrible sin she’d committed that horrific night. Refused to share with anyone the words she’d flung at Devin the night he’d died. Words she could never take back. Springing to her feet, she turned and walked toward the door without speaking.

Sebastian had always encouraged her to face her fears head on, and she knew his raising the question of regret was deliberate. It was time to face the pain and guilt rooted deep inside her. She’d accepted that fact months ago.

She just didn’t know how to face the pain of Devin’s betrayal or the disappointment of knowing he hadn’t loved her enough to tell her the truth. Worst of all, she didn’t know how to forgive herself for the last words she and Devin had exchanged the night of the fire.

“Devin wouldn’t want you to grieve like this, Louisa.” At Sebastian’s words, a wild, unconstrained anger surged through her. She whirled around to glare at him.

“How do you know what he would or wouldn’t want me to do?”

“I know because Devin was like a brother to me. He was just as much a part of this family before he married into it as he was after he married you.” Sorrow swept across his face. “I know Devin would not want you to stop living. He loved you too much for that.”

“I don’t think you knew Devin half as well as you think,” she said with a bitterness that mixed with her anger, pain, and guilt. “My husband had a child with another woman.”

“What the devil would make you think such a thing let alone say it, Louisa?” Sebastian’s harsh admonishment and stunned disbelief sent a jolt of irony through her. Clearly not even her brother had been privy to his best friend’s secrets. She laughed mirthlessly.

“Because he admitted it the night of the fire.”

“There has to be some other explanation, Louisa,” Sebastian protested in a bewildered tone. “Devin loved you. I’m sure of it.”

“Of course he did.” She didn’t bother to hide her humiliation in her scathing reply. “He loved me enough to hide the fact that he had a bastard son. A child he’d provided for since before we were married. Provided for the child’s mother.”

She inhaled a deep breath as she remembered the letter from their solicitor she’d mistakenly opened. The same paper she’d thrown at Devin during their argument. The vivid memory stabbed at her heart with a the strength of a physical blow that she almost bent over from pain of it.

“I don’t believe it,” Sebastian ground out in an obvious struggle to deny the inevitable. “I can’t believe Devin would ever betray his vows to you.”

“You don’t know that. I don’t know that. He says he didn’t, but how can I believe that when he kept the truth from me the entire time we were married?” Eyes closed she shook her head slightly. “He betrayed me by hiding the truth. He made me doubt him—doubt his love for me.”

“Devin was my best friend. I’m not surprised he would have kept such a matter to himself. He loved you, Louisa. He would have gone to great lengths to spare you the pain or gossip such news would cause.”

“Would you have tried to spare Helen from such news? Do you love her so little as to not trust her with all your secrets?” When he hesitated, she glared at him. “Answer me, Sebastian. Would you have hidden this sort of truth from Helen?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I would have told her everything.”

“And yet somehow I’m supposed to believe Devin didn’t tell me about the child because he loved me? Didn’t want to hurt me?”

“Think about it, Louisa. If he’d betrayed you with another woman, the Set would have gone out of their way to ensure you heard about it,” Sebastian said fiercely and with conviction. “They thrive on gossip, and the majority of them are filled with jealousy that all the Rockwoods have happy marriages. A rarity of among the Marlborough set. ”

Louisa met her brother’s gaze and winced. What Sebastian said was true. If Devin had really been keeping the mother of his bastard child as his mistress, the gossips would have gleefully ensured she knew about it. As the logic of her brother’s words sank in, she closed her eyes and swallowed hard at the possibility Sebastian was right. Tears welled up behind her eyelids, and she shuddered. The sudden touch of her brother’s hands on her shoulders made her open her eyes to meet his gaze.

“He did love you, Louisa. I firmly believe that.”

“But not enough to tell me the truth,” she said softly.

Pain, anger, and doubt ate away at her just as the memory of how harshly she’d condemned him that night. Words she’d said in anger. Words that weighed on her every waking moment.

“Damn it, Louisa. You need to let all of it go. You’ll fade away into someone no one will recognize, not even yourself. If you won’t talk with me, then speak with Aunt Matilda, Helen, or one of your sisters.” Sebastian moved toward her, and she took a quick step back.

“I’ll keep my own counsel, Sebastian. I’ve already revealed more than I intended.” Louisa waved her hand in a gesture that said she refused to continue with the discussion. “You cannot convince me to change my plans to leave for Callendar Abbey in the morning.. I need some time to myself, so I intend to leave the boys here. They enjoy being with their cousins, and Aunt Matilda has agreed to bring them with her when she returns to Scotland.”

“Then at least think about what I’ve said here today.”

She’d never heard Sebastian plead before, but that he did so indicated just how worried he was about her. With a slow nod of her head, she met his concerned gaze steadily.

“Very well, I’ll think on everything you’ve said.” At her reply, her brother’s expression indicated he believed she was simply appeasing him. Louisa quickly walked forward to kiss his cheek and whispered. “I promise I will, Sebastian. I swear it on the Sword and Blood of Angus Stewart.”

The moment the childhood oath softly echoed out of her, her brother’s mouth quirked slightly upward. It was an oath she’d always extracted from Sebastian when he’d given his word to her, or when she’d agreed to do whatever her brother demanded of her in some matter. In making her pledge, she knew Sebastian would understand the significance of the promise she’d just made.

Sebastian wrapped her in a warm hug, and relief relaxed his stern expression as he released her. Without another word, she left him alone suddenly realizing she’d made up her mind more than a week ago that it was time to let go as well. She just wasn’t sure how to lift the weight of her guilt. She could only hope going to Callendar Abbey and riding on the moors would give her the answer.

§ § §

“You lied to me. You lied.”

“Sweet Jesus, I’m sorry, Louisa. I love you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare say that to me! If you’d loved me you wouldn’t have kept them a secret all this time,” she shouted angrily as the weight of his betrayal pressed down on her. “If you’d told me when we were first betrothed—married. I would have believed you. I would have admired you for what you were doing.”

“Damn it to hell, Louisa. Do you think I didn’t want to tell you? I would have, but I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Lose my dowry you mean,” she sneered. “You didn’t have any trouble telling me that your family fortunes were almost non-existent when you offered for my hand.”`

“I didn’t marry you for your money, and you damn well know it. I married you because I love you.” Devin glared at her.

“You don’t know the first thing about love! It requires trust, and you didn’t trust me enough—love me enough to tell me the truth. And you would have gone on hiding it from me if I hadn’t discovered your secret strictly by chance.”

“I am telling you the truth, Louisa. All I’ve done is ensure they’ve been well cared for—nothing more.” His jaw was hard with anger as he met her gaze.

“And now, after all this time, I’m supposed to believe you provided for them simply out of a sense of responsibility—duty?” she sneered. “Provided for them with my dowry. To think I believed you every time you said you were out late playing cards at the club. To think I let you touch me after you came home. Came home from her bed.”

“Christ almighty,” Devin roared. “She’s not my mistress.”

“A man who pays for the upkeep of a woman other than his wife is the very definition of a man keeping a mistress.”

Enraged by his denial, Louisa picked up a container of perfume from her dresser and threw it at him. Devin ducked the missile targeted for his head. Instead, it hit the wall behind him and broke into small pieces while the liquid fragrance darkened the wallpaper. Furious she’d missed him, she grabbed a vase of flowers sitting on a nearby table. Water and flowers flew out of the ornamental jar to hit him in the face, blinding him to the trajectory of the vase. Triumph sped through her as the glass object hit him in the shoulder before it fell to the floor and shattered, His face hardening with fury Devin took a step forward then stopped.

“Enough, Louisa. Enough. We’ll discuss this in the morning when you’re calm and rational.”

“No. We won’t. You’ll be going back to London to stay at your club. The boys and I will go to Callendar Abbey to stay with Aunt Matilda.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my wife. I love you. I want you with me.” At his quiet rejection of her edict, she drew in a sharp hiss of air and shook her head.

“You are a liar. I wish I’d never married you,” she said in a voice devoid of emotion. “I wish you were dead so I wouldn’t have to endure the pain and humiliation of a divorce.”

At her icy reply, Devin paled, and he stared at her in stunned disbelief. He took another step toward her, but the moment she jumped back he flinched. Pain flashed across his face before his features became cold and unyielding.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” he said woodenly before he turned and walked through the short corridor that connected their rooms.

With a jerk, Louisa cried out in pain as she sat upright. Disoriented, she looked around her compartment half-expecting Devin to be kissing her hastily as he told her the house was fire and ordered her to go outside. The clickety-clack of the train’s wheels against the railroad tracks slowly penetrated through the hazy mist of her jumbled thoughts as she realized she was the sole occupant of the compartment. A nightmare. It had only been a nightmare. She closed her eyes as guilt flooded her senses.

It had been almost three years since the fire and more than a year since the last time she’d dreamed about her argument with Devin that horrific night. Staring out the train carriage window, she leaned back into the seat cushions and exhaled the tension that had held her rigid since she’d awoken. Outside, the bleak, gloomy weather reminded her that in a few days it would be December.

As the train rolled along, she studied the scenery passing by. Scotland’s stark beauty had always given her a sense of peace and comfort. The serenity had been especially necessary when she’d retreated to Callendar Abbey shortly after losing Devin, and her brother Caleb, in the fire at Westbrook Farms.

For over most of the time since the fire, the abbey had been her sanctuary from well-meaning friends’ intent on easing her sorrow. Her family had been far more willing to let her choose the amount of time she wanted to grieve, that is until Sebastian had called her into his study yesterday.

The sudden jarring sound of the compartment door opening jerked her out of the past. Startled, she quickly turned her head to see the white-haired conductor standing in the doorway.

“Tis no’ far now tae Dunblane, me lady.”

The soft burr in the man’s voice was a sound that said she was close to the one place she loved more than anywhere else in the world. Not even Westbrook Farms had been so treasured in her heart even though there had been happy times there until that terrible night. Aware her thoughts had drifted off again, and the conductor hadn’t left as he awaited any instructions she had. Louisa winced as she met his gaze.

“Thank you. If you would, please have one of the porters secure my luggage when we arrive. There are two trunks in the baggage car that need to be unloaded.”

“Aye, me lady. I’ll see tae it.” The conductor nodded then closed the compartment door to leave her alone again.

The scenery through the window had changed from a barren landscape to one dotted with cottages and farms. Louisa recognized one of the houses that sat on the outskirts of Dunblane as the slowing train rattled past it. In little more than an hour, she’d be at Callendar Abbey with its peaceful, healing atmosphere. For the first time since leaving London, she experienced a serenity she’d not felt for a very long time.

It had been the right decision to leave the boys in London for the next two or three weeks. They would enjoy being with their cousins for a little longer, and she would cherish the quiet in the abbey. As much as she adored her sons, she knew she required peace to do what she needed to do. It would be far easier to say goodbye to the past in the peaceful tranquility of Callendar Abbey without the rambunctious antics of the boys. She also didn’t want either of them, especially Charlie to see her if they caught any sign of her weeping. Her oldest had taken on more than just his father’s title upon Devin’s death. Charlie had become extremely protective of her, and it troubled him deeply if anyone said something to bring her grief to the surface, including himself.

The train lurched to a halt, and Louisa quickly pulled on her black leather gloves then picked up her hat from the seat beside her and set it on top of her head. She was securing it on her head with a hatpin when the door to the compartment slid open. Fergus’s tall, lanky frame filled the doorway and he nodded at her with a cheerful grin.

“Welcome back, me lady. Tis good tae see ye again.” Just as the conductor’s quiet Scottish brogue had filled her with a sense of homecoming, Fergus’s voice had the same effect.

“Thank you, Fergus. I’ve two bags here.” Louisa pointed to the small traveling case and larger portmanteau. “And two trunks in the baggage car.”

“Aye. One of the porters has already unloaded yer luggage so I kin load it onto the cart.”

“Is Alfred not with you?” Louisa asked in with a small amount of surprise.

“No, me lady. Tis Alfred’s arthritis. His knee locked up so badly last night, he’s barely able to walk. Being as it was just ye, I told him I could come by myself.”

Fergus picked up her bags and stepped out into the corridor to make his way to the carriage exit. Collecting her purse, she followed him down the narrow hallway. Fergus set down her luggage on the station’s wooden platform then offered his hand to assist her down the carriage’s metal steps. Satisfied she was safely off the train, Fergus retrieved her luggage and headed around the small station building. As she followed the long-time servant, Louisa breathed in the cool air. It was a welcome respite from the stuffy train compartment. There was even the faint earthy hint of fall’s last remnants of heather. Fresh and sweet, it made her realize how much she loathed the tobacco-like smell of burning coal in London.

The delicious smell of tablets from the town’s bakery drifted beneath her nose, and her stomach growled softly. The cold chicken and bread Mrs. Haversham had wrapped in paper for her lunch had been more than filling, but the sweet vanilla scent of the sugary treats made her mouth water.

She drank in another breath of the scent-laden air as she rounded the station to see the abbey’s largest wagon sitting in front of the station. An apologetic look on his face, Fergus grimaced at her surprise as he touched his cap.

“Forgive me, my lady, but Alfred insisted. He says his knee tells him there’s a bad storm coming. He thought it best tae bring the wagon, since a carriage could easily get stuck in the mud.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Louisa said with a smile as she glanced up at the gray sky. Alfred’s uncanny ability to accurately predict bad weather was a trait the family heeded without question. “I suspect we’ll be warm and cozy inside the abbey before any storm arrives. Besides I confess the open air after being on the train most of the day is preferable.”

Relief swept across the man’s face as he continued to load the wagon with Louisa’s luggage. In minutes they were pulling away from the station. On their way out of town, they passed the bakery, and she asked Fergus to stop to buy a tablet for the two of them. They washed the sweet pastries down with milk the servant had bought as they headed out of Dunblane along Doune Road.

They were well past Doune Castle when a light rain began to fall. Fergus muttered something under his breath and reached behind him to pull out a wool blanket. He handed it her with a frown.

“It will help keep ye dry my lady.”

Louisa accepted the blanket and threw it over head. With each passing mile, the rain began to fall harder, which caused Fergus to mutter with growing irritation. He threw up the collar of his jacket as they sky darkened considerably. Thunder boom over their heads, and Louisa sighed. As much as she loved the highlands, she didn’t enjoy being soaked to the skin with winter was so close at hand. It made the rain cold as ice.

In her eagerness to reach Callendar Abbey, she’d miscalculated the timing of the storm. Her mouth tightened with self-disgust. Aas always, the Rockwood trait for casting caution to the wind had made her dismiss Fergus’s suggestion they seek shelter at Doune Castle a few miles back.

It made no sense to turn back now. They were closer to the abbey than the castle. She deserved to be wet and cold, although Fergus didn’t. Irritated by her reckless decision, she blew out a small puff of air in silent frustration and recrimination. Another shiver rippled through her as daylight slowly gave way to the approaching night. The sprinkle of rain began to fall harder, and she pulled the wool blanket tighter around her shoulders.

As they approached the Cambus Burn, she inhaled a sharp breath at the sight. Unlike the last burn they’d crossed, the stream was swollen to more than three times its normal size. Fergus drew the horses to a stop and stared in dismay at the raging water.

“It was no’ like this earlier, me lady. Perhaps we should turn back.” The young man had a helpless look on his face. Despite her own trepidation, Louisa patted his arm.

“This a last burn between us and the abbey, and once we’re across it’s only a few miles from home.” She nodded toward the sturdy animals then smiled at Fergus. “The horses will get across without much trouble. Besides, I’m certain Mrs. Campbell will have hot stew and bread waiting for us.”

“But ye are soaked, my lady.”

“It isn’t the first time,” she said with a twist of her lips. “But the sooner we reach the abbey, the sooner we’ll both be dry and warm.”

A troubled look still on his face, Fergus didn’t reply. He simply nodded then slapped the reins against the horses’ backsides to urge them forward. One of the animals shook his head in protest, but the other one simply moved forward forcing the other to follow.

The water rose high on the wheels of the wagon, and the stout vehicle shuddered slightly from the strength of the water’s flow. Ever so slowly the horses pulled the wagon through the burn and up onto the muddy road. A relieved grin on his face, Fergus glanced in her direction.

“I’ll no’ doubt Colman or Tulipan again, me lady.”

Fergus praised the animals as he urged them forward. They’d gone only a quarter of a mile from the burn when the wagon hit a pot hole hidden by the dim light. A loud crack filled the air, and the wagon lurched violently to one side. The jolt sent Louisa crashing into Fergus so hard it threw him out of the vehicle. Quickly righting herself, she leaned over the side of the wagon to see the young man sprawled in the mud.

“Fergus, are you all right?”

When he didn’t move or speak, Louisa drew in a sharp breath of dismay. Scrambling down from the wagon, she leaned over the unconscious man. Her heart sank at the bloody wound on his temple, and she straightened upright to look around her. There wasn’t even a hint of shelter anywhere as she stared out at the moor. Aware she needed to get Fergus out of the rain, Louisa quickly searched the back of the wagon for another blanket, but the only thing available was the canvas that covered her luggage.

It was a struggle to drag the heavy cover off her trunks, but she managed to keep the dry part of the canvas free of water and mud as she spread it out beneath the wagon. She turned back to Fergus and debated how to move him under the wagon. With as much strength as she could muster, she tried to drag the man toward the underbelly of the wagon but barely managed to move him a few inches.

“Damn,” she muttered.

The unladylike curse would have earned her a dark frown from Sebastian, and Percy would have simply laughed. Lord how she wished they were here now. She wiped her eyes free of rain and moved to put the man between her and the wagon. Sinking down onto her heels, Louisa grunted with exertion as she rolled Fergus under the wagon and onto the dry side of the canvas.

The man didn’t utter a sound, and Louisa’s heart sank again as she struggled to cover Fergus’s body with the remaining half of the heavy tarpaulin. Huddling beneath the wagon, Louisa cherished the small reprieve from the cold rain as she contemplated her next move. She wasn’t unacquainted with serious injuries, but Fergus’s silence as she’d dragged him to shelter worried her deeply.

Louisa glanced down at the man and noted the pallor of his skin. It was obvious she would have to go for help. Alfred was the only other man at the abbey as everyone else had accompanied Aunt Matilda to London. If Alfred’s knee made it difficult to walk, her only other option was Doune Castle or Argaty Keep.

The Earl of Argaty’s estate had to be nearby, but she had no idea where. Aunt Matilda had made it clear she couldn’t tolerate the earl’s wife, and she’d never even met the man or his countess. While she had never shown fear in the face of any reckless behavior she’d committed, she knew better than to try and find the earl’s home in the dark. That left Doune Castle. Louisa muttered a curse even Percy would have been appalled by as she scrambled out from under the wagon.

With as much speed as possible, she undid Colman’s tack from the wagon and loosely tied the horse to the back of the wagon. Despite the horse being the steadier of the two animals, Colman was much older than Tulipan. She found a small knife in a makeshift tool box beneath the wagon seat and proceeded to cut a reasonable length of rein from Tulipan’s tack.

Discarding the extra leather straps, she quickly unhitched the horse and led him to the wagon’s front seat. Quickly climbing onto the floorboard of the wagon, she tugged Tulipan into place, hitched up her skirts, and climbed onto the animal’s back. Until now her legs had been dry, but Tulipan’s wet coat immediately remedied that situation. Shivering, she gathered up the makeshift reins and headed back the way they’d come. When they reached the burn they’d crossed earlier, the horse indicated his reluctance to enter the water. Irritated by his fractious behavior, she released a harsh breath of disgust.

“Stop being a ninny you blasted animal. You just crossed this stream a few minutes ago.”

Louisa pressed her heels firmly into Tulipan’s sides and urged him forward. Slowly the horse made its way into the rushing stream. Glancing down, she saw the water was now almost up to the horse’s knees and she flinched as he stumbled slightly and water splashed up over her foot.

“Come on, Tulipan. Just a few more feet,” she muttered. As if understanding her encouragement, the horse took two more steps forward then quickly scrambled up the bank of the burn. A few yards away from the water, she stopped him and leaned forward to pat his neck.

“Good boy. See, that wasn’t too hard, was it.” She smiled as the horse bobbed his head then danced sideways at the flash of lightning in the sky, which was followed by a loud crack of thunder directly overhead. Tulipan snorted loudly in fear, and maintaining a tight grip on the makeshift reins, she tried to soothe the animal. “It’s all right boy. It’s just a little thunder.

Louisa pressed her knees into the animal’s side and urged him into a slow trot. It didn’t take long to reach the last burn that stood between them and Doune Castle. Buchany Burn wasn’t nearly as wide as the one they’d cross moments before, but the water looked much deeper. She would have to jump.

Barely thinking through the decision, she rode Tulipan a short distance away from the burn before turning him around and prodded him into a gallop. The horse cleared the burn easily but the landing cause Louisa to slip slightly to one side on the animal’s wet back. She’d barely recovered her seat when a bolt of lightning hit the ground several yards away, and the horse reared in terror.

Desperate to remain seated, Louisa grasped the animal’s mane and pressed her body into the horse’s neck. The animal’s feet hit the ground in a hard jolt, and Louisa barely managed to maintain her already precarious seat on the animal’s back. Another loud boom of thunder sounded above their heads. With a wild cry of fear. Tulipan lunged forward.

Another flash of lightning lit the sky followed by booming thunder. It caused the animal to sharply change direction. Unable to maintain her seat on the horse’s rain-slicked back, she flew through the air to the ground. Her hip and shoulder hit the soggy moor a split-second before head hit something hard. With a cry of pain she lost consciousness.

The first thing she felt was the icy sting of the rain on her cheek. For a moment, she laid where she was. Every part of her body ached, and while she’d been soaked before, now it felt as if she’d been dumped in the burn Tulipan had jumped.

Even worse was the hammer beating a loud, powerful rhythm in her head. The storm was still raging around her, and she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. The movement caused her stomach to lurch unpleasantly as the pounding in her head sharpened. Eyes closed, she remained still until the pain had eased to a dull throb.

Slowly, she stumbled to her feet. She’d never been so wet and cold in her life. Teeth chattering, she stood trembling and huddled over as the icy rain beat down on her. It was impossible to tell how long she’d been unconscious, but it was completely dark, which meant it had been at least two hours, maybe more, since Tulipan had thrown her.

A small voice in her head told her to look up. When she did so, she saw a light flickering in the darkness. Hope swelled inside her and she stumbled toward the faint glow. She’d only gone a few feet when she tripped over a rock, and fell. Slowly she climbed to her feet and continued toward the light.

The rain-soaked skirt of her dress grew heavier with each passing moment until it felt as if she were dragging a heavy cart behind her. Exhaustion settled in her limbs while the pounding in her head only added to her misery. The sensation of walking on broken glass made her bite her lip as the rest of her body protested against the tiny little needles of pain trying to puncture her skin.

Willing herself not to cry, Louisa plodded her way forward. Suddenly the light disappeared and a hard wind knocked her off her feet. As she tried to stand up, a wave of hopelessness swept over her. Slowly, she sank back down to her knees. No more. She was in too much pain, too cold, and too weary to take another step.

“Stand up right now, Louisa Rockwood Morehouse. A Rockwood does not quit.” Harsh with anger, Caleb’s voice rang out clear and strong above her.

Startled by the sound, she jerked her head up to see her brother standing in front of her, arms folded across his chest as he glared at her.

“Caleb…?” She blinked rapidly as she made out his solid form. Certain she was dreaming she closed her eyes against her brother’s image. With a growl of disgust she remembered so well, Caleb squatted in front of her.

“If you’re a true Rockwood, little sister, you’ll get up onto your feet this minute.”

“I…can’t…I’m so cold.”

“I don’t give a fuck how cold you are, Louisa. Get up.” Outraged by the brutally caustic tone of his voice more than his crude language, she scowled fiercely at him.

“Do…not…talk…to…me…like…that,” she said angrily through her chattering teeth. “Sebastian…wouldn’t.”

“I won’t mollycoddle you like our oldest brother would. And Sebastian’s not here to tell you what to do,” he snarled viciously. “I am. Now for once in your goddamn life, do as I say. Act like a Rockwood and stand up.”

Anger drove her to stand upright as the Rockwood stubbornness suppressed the throbbing in her head to a dull murmur. Swaying where she stood, she scowled at her brother as he smiled with smug satisfaction.

“So—now that I’m dead you decide to listen to me.” At the mockery in his voice, she cried out in sorrow.

“No.” The anguish in her objection made him grimace.

“It’s all right, little sister. Everything will be all right,” his voice was soft with affection.

She’d always hated it when Caleb had referred to her as his little sister, but at the moment, it was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. The sensation of a gentle kiss brushed against her brow even though he didn’t move.

“Turn to your right and look, Louisa. Look hard.”

Like an obedient child, she did as he commanded and peered into the darkness. In far distance, a small light flickered. Sanctuary. She took a slow halting step toward the light. It was an excruciating one.

“I know it hurts, Louisa, but you can’t stay here. You’ll die, and I’m not going to let that happen,” Caleb whispered in her ear. “The boys need you. He needs you.”

She didn’t understand what he meant, but the thought of Charlie and Wills made her obey her brother. Every part of her body was stiff with cold. Each of her limbs protested savagely as the icy rain and frigid wind seeped its way deep into her bones. It made every step she took agonizing, but she pushed on knowing her brother was right. If she stayed where she was, she would die. Overhead another flash of lightning lit the sky, and she blinked away the rain and searched for the light again. It was gone. Louisa’s heart sank.

“It’s there, little one. Keep going. He’s coming for you.”

“I…don’t…under…stand.” Her teeth made a loud clacking sound as she spoke, but she continued in the direction she’d been heading. She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other trying to ignore the pounding in her head and how numb her body was.

Unable to see where she was going, she encountered a small drop in the landscape and lost her footing. With a cry she pitched forward to land hard against the ground. She tried to push herself up, but she didn’t have the strength to do so. The salt of her tears mixed with the stinging rain drops on her cheeks as she cried out for help. An invisible, tender touch brushed against her cheek.

“He’s coming, Louisa. It won’t be much longer, little sister.” With each whispered word, Caleb’s voice grew fainter as she slipped into the abyss.

Chapter 2

The harsh wind outside pelted the window of Ewan’s study with a hard rain. A particularly strong gust shook the double doors that led out to the small balcony overlooking the moors. He turned around in his seat half expecting to see the doors give way and fly open with a resounding crash.

Satisfied the fragile-looking doors would hold under the weight of the storm, he settled back into his seat once more and returned his attention to his book. In his effort to ensure the doors would stand up against the storm, he’d lost the comfortable placement of the book he was reading.

A noise of frustration escaped him as he struggled to adjust the position of the volume so he could see the text with the only eye he possessed. Although it wasn’t in as comfortable position as it had been, he could at least see the text. He picked up where he’d left off, and a moment later reached out to turn the page with the hand he no longer possessed.

“Fuck.”

In a violent move, he sent the book flying through the air with his only hand until it landed with a crash on a table several feet away. The book an oil lamp, which rocked for a moment as it teetered from the blow. It lost the battle and careened downward to the floor. The instant the lamp’s flame hit the large amount of oil spilling out onto the floor, a small fire erupted.

Another oath of fury erupted out of him and Ewan leapt to his feet. Dragging the wool blanket off the back of his chair, he threw it over the flames to smother them. Stomping on the blanket, the fire died a quick death. The sound of running feet made him turned toward the study door as Asadi burst into the room at full tilt. The boy jerked to a halt just inside the room.

“You are all right, Argaty sahib?”

“The lamp broke.” Ewan shrugged as he jerked his head toward the mess on the floor. “I had to put out the fire.”

“It broke, Argaty sahib?” Dark eyes wide in his light brown face, the boy’s gaze darted to the charred edges of the blanket before shifting to the table where his book had taken the place of the lamp. “Perhaps your book did not like the lamp?”

Ewan growled with irritation as he glared at the Asadi, who had already begun cleaning up the mess. Wheeling about on the edge of his heel, he returned to his chair, and stared into the fire. The heat of the flames reminded him of the Afghan desert. Gunfire and screams suddenly echoed in his head, and he stood up to pace the floor waiting for the cries to fade as they usually did except in his sleep.

“Shall I bring you dinner, Argaty sahib?” At the boy’s question, Ewan directed a scowl of aggravation in his direction.

“Leave me be, Asadi,” he snarled. The boy quietly moved toward the door carrying the remains of the oil lamp and scorched blanket. As Asadi reached the doorway, Ewan blew out a harsh breath of disgust as his abrupt manner with the boy. “Asadi. You may bring me something to eat.”

“As you wish, Argaty sahib,” the boy said cheerfully at Ewan’s unspoken apology.

Ewan didn’t bother to look in the boy’s direction as the door closed behind him. Instead, he continued to pace the carpet. For some reason, he knew tonight would be another restless night. He snorted loudly. When was any night not filled with the screams of injured men having their limbs sawed off? He strode over to the window behind his desk and with his only hand threw up the window to welcome in the cold damp air.

The fire in the hearth his only source of light in the room, it allowed him to see the landscape more easily. Off in the distance he thought he saw a movement, but quickly dismissed it. What madman or animal would be out on a night like this? A tentative knock made him glance over his shoulder as he saw the door slowly opening.

“My lord.” McCallum’s quiet, yet steady voice was filled with respect. A long-time retainer of the Argaty family, McCallum had known him since he was a boy. The Scotsman was the only member of the household, other than Asadi, he allowed in his quarters.

“Finn just sent word from the stables that a horse has appeared out of the storm.”

“What the devil does that have to do with me? Tell Finn to stable the damn thing. We’ll find the owner tomorrow.”

“Aye, my lord. However, there is a slight complication.”

“Then say it McCallum, stop dancing around what you came to say.” Ewan frowned as he turned to face the Scotsman who never seemed troubled by Ewan’s foul moods.

“The horse appears to hae been unhitched from a carriage.”

There was a quiet note in McCallum’s voice that said he expected Ewan to respond to the situation. What that response was, he had no idea. Irritated by the retainer’s unspoken belief that Ewan was somehow required to do something, he glared at the older man.

“And what the hell makes you think that?”

“The animal has no saddle or tack other than a bridle. And the reins had been deliberately cut tae a shorter length tae make the horse easy tae ride.”

“In this weather?” Ewan snorted his disbelief. “A man would have to be daft to be out in a storm like this.”

“Unless a vehicle had come tae some harm, my lord.” The Scotsman’s words made Ewan scowl at the man with disgusted disbelief before he turned back to the open window.

In the distance, he saw something move against the landscape once more. He narrowed his one eye to focus on the spot. Perhaps McCallum was right. If a carriage had experienced a mishap on Doune Road, it would make sense for someone to try to seek help. At that precise moment lightning flashed in the sky to illuminate the countryside. In the bright light he realized the movement he’d seen was a figure staggering toward the house.

Whoever it was came to a sudden halt and stood swaying in the heavy wind and rain. A fraction of a second later, the figure disappeared like an apparition on the rain soaked moor. For a moment, he continued to stare out at the spot where he’d seen the figure expecting to see whoever was out in the storm to rise to their feet. Ewan released a soft noise of disgusted skepticism at the likelihood he’d actually seen someone.

“I do no’ like tae think we ignored the possibility of leaving someone out on the moor on a night like this, Master Ewan.”

McCallum only used his childhood title when gently rebuking Ewan. The man had become a father figure to him after his father had died in a riding accident when he was just a boy, and he allowed the familiarity. He grimaced as he turned to face the man.

It would be a fool’s errand to send Finn out onto the moors in the middle of one of the worst storms Ewan had seen in a long time. The lad had not grown up on the moors as Ewan had. Not to mention it would be difficult to find someone in the dark if the lad didn’t know where to look, when even he wasn’t sure if what he’d seen had been real. With a grunt of displeasure, Ewan slammed the window shut and turned to face McCallum.

“Tell Finn to saddle Lachlan, and send Asadi in with that infernal contraption as well as my coat.”

“Yes, my lord.” Although his face was stoic, McCallum’s voice echoed with approval.

As the Scotsman left the study, Ewan acknowledged the older man was proud of him for agreeing to the search, even if it were for naught. Almost as if he’d expected Ewan’s request, Asadi appeared moments later with the artificial device a physician in London had given him when he’d returned from the Sudan. Ewan glared at the metal and wood attachment as Asadi adjusted the straps that went over his shoulders and under his arms to secure the device. God how he hated the thing.

Asadi offered Ewan his black glove, but he waved it away. The device was more flexible without the leather covering the metal. Lachlan could be contrary at times, and he could control the animal better with the unnatural fingers free of any glove. He also cared little that the grotesque metal fingers might frighten someone, particularly when he was certain he was on a fool’s errand. With a growl of irritation as Asadi tightened the strap, he glanced over his shoulder at the boy.

Regret crossed the boy’s face, and Ewan looked away. He knew the boy would do anything asked of him, and he didn’t like it. He hated how Asadi believed himself beholden to him. Ewan shrugged on the coat the brown-skinned boy held up for him. The metal fingers snagged a piece of thread and pushed back on his thrust. The result was a twinge in his shoulder. A quiet oath of frustration blew past his lips. Asadi immediately darted around to face him and gently wiggled the coat sleeve free of the metal device.

With a nod, Ewan strode out of his study and downstairs to the front door. McCallum was already there with the door open. Outside the rain had eased slightly, but the wind was bitterly cold. He strode out to where Lachlan stood stomping his front hooves into the ground. A cry behind him, made Ewan turn back to the house.

“Argaty sahib. Argaty sahib. Your hat for deer.”

The boy’s description of his deerstalker twisted Ewan’s lips slightly. He accepted the hat then ruffled Asadi’s in an affectionate gesture. The boy grinned up at him, and Ewan immediately regretted the move. The gesture would only encourage the boy to do more for him. A quiet sound of irritation flew past his lips as he turned toward Lachlan. Ewan’s natural fingers slid through stallion’s thick mane as he launched himself up onto the pewter gray animal.

In a smooth movement, he adjusted the horse’s reins in his fingers then accepted the small lantern Finn offered with his paltry excuse of metal that substituted for a hand. Adjusted solidly in the saddle, he turned the stallion in the direction of where he’d last seen the figure on the moors. If there were someone out on the moor on a night like this, he should have leave the fool out there.

But something in the darkness of his soul compelled him to commence the search. At a slow trot, Lachlan moved forward into the dark with only the small lantern to light their way. They’d gone almost a mile from the house when he slowed the horse to a walk. Lantern held high over his head, he guided the light across the ground surrounding him.

“You came out here for nothing, Argaty,” he muttered with disgust. “It was probably some damn animal you saw from the window.”

Ewan urged Lachlan forward once more then paused after a few yards to raise the light again. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and as far as he could see there was nothing moving on the moor. Disgusted with his efforts, he was about to turn the horse around when he heard a faint sound above the rain and wind. Frowning, he raised his lantern higher and saw nothing.

He tugged gently on the reins to turn Lachlan back toward the house when he heard the sound again. Twisting in the saddle, he raised his lantern high above his head to see the area around him with the only eye he possessed. Another pitiful sound echoed through the air, and he jerked his head in its direction.

Overhead a flash of lightning lit up the area for only a second, but it was enough to glimpse a movement on the ground about fifty yards away. Ewan tugged on Lachlan’s reins and urged the animal toward the sound. Lantern raised high, he slowly moved the light in a sweeping arc.

“Please…help…”

The cry was hoarse and weak, but it was a distinct plea. A small nudge of the heel sent Lachlan forward. It wasn’t until the stallion danced to one side and snorted loudly that Ewan saw the figure lying at the feet of the horse.

“Christ Almighty, man, what the devil are you doing out on the moor?” Ewan exclaimed as he leaned down and dropped the lantern onto the ground.

By some miracle, the light landed upright to cast an unearthly glow across the ground as he dismounted close to the fallen figure. Ewan gently rolled the man over then grew rigid.

“A woman,” he muttered to himself in disbelief.

Dark hair plastered against her forehead and cheeks, she could have been a ghost for how white her face was. Alarmed by her condition, he uttered a harsh oath. At the sound, her eyes fluttered open, and she murmured something. Unable to hear her, Ewan bent his head so his ear was close to her mouth.

“Are you real?” The fear in her almost inaudible whisper made him growl deep in his throat.

“Aye, lass, I’m real.”

Without thinking, he used his metal fingers to pull hair away from her face. At the touch, she opened her eyes and released a small cry at the sight of his unnatural hand. Fear made her try to pull away from him and the metal device that served as his missing hand.

A fraction of a second later, her eyes focused on his face and the horror widening her eyes made him realize he’d failed to wear his eye patch. Without it, she had an up close view of his scarred face with its skin stretched across the hole where his eye had been. The revulsion crossing her white features was an all too familiar reaction.

“I’m not the devil, lass, although I come close,” he bit out between clenched teeth.

When she didn’t respond, he realized she’d fainted. A growl of exasperation rumbled out of him as he realized she’d be of little assistance climbing onto Lachlan. Quickly shifting his position, Ewan slid his good arm under her legs and shifted her onto his good shoulder as he would a sack of flour.

The sodden wool dress she wore quickly soaked his own coat. It clung to her legs almost like a second skin. She’d obviously been out in the storm for quite some time. He rose to his feet and strode toward Lachlan. His mechanical arm and hand sought to hold her steady as Ewan slowly slid her body down over his chest. The moment her feet touched the ground, he gently patted her cheek until her eyes fluttered open in response to the action.

“I need you to stand for a moment, lass.”

He barely saw her nod of understanding as he turned her toward Lachlan and allowed the horse to absorb her weight. Almost as if the stallion understood the woman’s need for support, Lachlan didn’t shy away from her. As she leaned into the animal’s wet coat Ewan guided her ice-cold hands up to Lachlan’s thick shock of hair running the length of his powerful neck.

“Grab hold of the mane here.”

Slowly, her fingers grasped the animal’s mane as she used the horse as a means to hold herself upright. He briefly glanced down at the lantern on the ground, knowing it was impossible carry it and the woman as well. Certain her legs were about to give way beneath her, Ewan vaulted into the saddle then leaned over and dragged the woman up onto the stallion.

A soft moan escaped her as he cradled her against his chest. Her body shuddered against his in a constant barrage of small tremors. It was two miles to Doune Road from Argaty Keep. How long had she actually been out in the storm? With a tug on the reins, he turned Lachlan back toward the house. Lightning flashed above their heads followed by a loud crack of thunder.

The sound made Lachlan dance nervously to one side, but Ewan soothed the animal with several words in Gaelic before nudging the horse into a quick trot to the house. The ride to Argaty Keep was accomplished in minutes as opposed to the time he’d spent on his search. As he rode up to the front of the manner, he saw McCallum waiting in the open doorway.

The Scotsman stepped aside to let Finn run out into the rain to meet him. The groom grabbed the horse’s halter as McCallum hurried forward to support the woman as Ewan slid her off the horse and dismounted. The moment he was on the ground, Ewan lifted the woman up into his arms. Cradling with his good arm, while using the metal contraption he wore to press her into his body. The movement exacerbated the sting where the leather cup encasing his stub of an arm had rubbed ruthless at his skin. As he entered the keep, Ewan paused as he debated what room to use for the keep’s unwelcomed guest.

“I had Maggie prepare the King’s bedroom, my lord,” McCallum said quietly.

It shouldn’t have surprised him the older man had thought to prepare a room when there had been no indication Ewan would return with a lost soul. McCallum always seemed to be one step ahead, and it made him think the man had a bit of the sight. The woman hadn’t stopped trembling since he’d found her, but her tremors seemed to have become even more pronounced on the way back to the house.

“Send Maggie up to help undress the woman, and make sure she brings night clothes,” Ewan said brusquely as started up the main staircase with his unexpected guest in his arms. “Then send for Doctor Munro.”

“Doctor Munro, my lord?” McCallum’s surprise made Ewan pause at the foot of the steps to look over his shoulder and glare at the older man. The family retainer raised his eyebrows as if Ewan was still a boy. “Tis unlikely the burns will be safe tae cross for two or three days, my lord.”

The Scotsman’s observation made Ewan frown with displeasure. The man was right. Even in the daylight it would be difficult to reach the physician without endangering someone’s life, even his own. The fact the woman’s teeth had begun to chatter and her trembling was worsening with each passing second indicated she would need care through the night.

“Then, I’ll have to care for her myself.”

“My lord?” McCallum eyed him with stern disapproval.

“Is there someone else in this infernal place who knows how to care for her if she develops pneumonia?” he snarled. “And have Asadi bring me my eye patch. The woman was terrified by the sight of me out on the moor.”

Without waiting for a response, Ewan climbed the steps. He glanced down at the woman in his arms. She looked as if she were already at death’s door. If? It He snorted. Even with the limited training he possessed from his time in the Sudan, he could tell the woman was seriously ill. He was more than halfway up the stairs, when a slender figure in nightwear and a shawl wrapped around her shoulders appeared at the top of the steps.

“What has happened, Ewan? Who is she?” his aunt exclaimed.

“Go back to bed, Aunt Wallis.”

“But your mother sent me to see what the fuss was about.”

“It’s nothing my mother needs to concern herself with, and I’ve no time to explain.”

Ewan reached the top of the stairs and headed down the hall to the room McCallum had had prepared. Wallis ignored his command and followed close on his heels. His aunt was one of the few people he tolerated to have around him, and any other time he would not have spoken so harshly.

But the fact his mother had sent his aunt to investigate the disturbance in the house irritated him beyond the point patience. Close on the heels of the thought, he quickly admitted he would rather have Aunt Wallis asking questions than his mother. The dowager’s caustic manner would only aggravate more than he was already. He entered the King’s bedroom and set his charge down in one of the chairs facing the fire. As he struggled to undo the buttons on the front of her dress with his one hand, his aunt gasped loudly.

“You mustn’t, Ewan. It’s not proper.” At her protest, he slowly turned his head toward her.

“Would you have me leave the lass in these wet clothes? Now go report back to the countess, and then go to bed.” At his angry snarl, his aunt took a quick step back in apprehension. He immediately regretted his sharp words. “The woman is seriously ill, Aunt Wallis. We both know short of Dr. Munro, I’m the only one capable of caring for the woman.”

The older woman hesitated before she nodded her head in understanding and left the room. Ewan’s free hand fumbled with the buttons on the woman’s dress, and he was relieved to see Maggie appear in the doorway followed by Asadi. The maid eyed him with trepidation, which caused him to bow his head so she couldn’t see the mass of scars on his face. The boy who’d taken it upon himself to be Ewan’s valet, hurried across the room to offer him the black patch he wore routinely along with his glove. In a swift movement, Ewan covered his eye with the leather patch. He met Asadi’s gaze with his good one, and nodded toward the door. Without questioning the silent command, the boy darted out of the room.

“Undo the woman’s dress, Maggie.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ewan saw her hesitate. In a deliberate move, he turned toward her and held up his hand in silent explanation. The maid still didn’t move, and with a slight movement of his shoulder, he made the spindly metal fingers click together in an ominous sound. The maid flinched violently then jerked her gaze away from the grotesque appendage and hurried forward. In the back of his head, a voice reprimanded him for taunting the girl. He ignored his conscience.

Silently, he watched Maggie undo the woman’s dress then moved forward to help the girl remove the sodden wool garment off the woman. In the back of his mind, he noted that the woman’s clothing was that of a lady of quality. Black without any trace of color, he suspected she was in mourning. A husband perhaps? She wasn’t wearing a ring, so perhaps a relative.

He tossed the woman’s dress aside then held her up slightly so Maggie could quickly pulled the wet underskirts off the woman. When the maid undid the laces of the woman’s combination, the garment gave way to a wet chemise that clung to her as if she were naked. An odd sensation tensed his muscles as he couldn’t help but notice the sweet, lushly full curves of her body. She had the body of Titian’s Venus of Urbino.

Rounded in all the places where a woman should be curved, his gaze drifted over her shoulders down to her breasts and the dark pink nipples the thin, linen chemise highlighted so enticingly. The tension in his body made him stiffen as his gaze continued downward to the apex of her thighs and her full, voluptuous legs. Incensed with his interest in the woman, Ewan looked away as the maid struggled to remove the last of his guest’s clothing. The woman’s shivers were still hard and fast, and as Maggie reached for the night dress she’d brought with her, Ewan shook his head.

“No. I’m certain the lass has a fever, and it’s better she not be restrained with anything but the bedsheets.” He saw the look of consternation on the maid’s face. “I’ll won’t be taking advantage of the woman, girl. Throw a blanket over her then turn down the covers so I can put her in bed.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The maid bobbed her head at his instructions, and despite his desire to do otherwise, Ewan managed to keep his gaze from skimming the woman’s naked body. When Maggie had covered the woman with a light-weight blanket off the bed, he carefully lifted his unexpected guest up into his arms and carried her to the bed.

Throughout the entire process, the only sound the woman had made was her teeth chattering. Even against his dry clothing her body chilled his through his wool vest and jacket. Frowning with concern, he laid her on the sheets and allowed Maggie to cover her up to her neck. Despite lying beneath the dry covers, the woman’s body didn’t stop shaking. Ewan pressed the back of his hand against her forehead and grimaced. As he’d expected she was running a fever. It was a high one at that.

“Have Asadi bring me a pitcher of cool water, towels, and have Mrs. Selkirk prepare some peppermint tea and chicken broth.” Ewan gave the command as he tightened the covers around the woman. When the maid didn’t move, he turned his head toward her.

“Now, not tomorrow.” His fierce tone made the maid bob her head before she darted out of the room. Left alone with his charge, Ewan sat down on the side of the bed to study her.

A light coating of sweat glistened on her forehead, and he gently wiped it away with his fingers. Her hair was drying quickly, and it reminded him of the soft brown feathers on the heads of the kites that flew over the keep on a regular basis. A soft murmur drifted out of her, and he bent his head in an attempt to hear what she was saying, but her words were impossible to make out.

It was several minutes before Asadi appeared with the water and towels. The boy left the water and cloths within reach then hurried out of the room to fetch the other items Ewan had demanded. Ewan soaked a cloth in the cool water, wrung it out, and proceeded to gently stroke the sweat from her forehead. As he tended to her, he narrowed his gaze at her oval-shaped face.

“Where do you come from, lass, and why were you out in the storm?” he asked softly.

Ewan continued his attempts to remove the perspiration from her forehead. When the woman’s shudders caused the pillow beneath her head to move into an awkward position, he gently lifted her head to push the pillow back into place inadvertently disturbing some of the hair near her forehead. He drew in a soft hiss of air at the bruise on the side of her temple.

Despite his efforts to cool her fever, her symptoms continued to worsen with each passing hour. As the woman’s fever deepened, she began thrashing beneath the bedcovers and tried to throw them off. Gently, he pulled her arms out from beneath the covers to provide her relief. He did the same for her legs. With the cool, damp clothes, Ewan wiped down her exposed limbs in an attempt to make her more comfortable.

He turned away for a moment to soak a cloth and wring it out before he shifted on the mattress to face her again. The moment he moved, he inhaled a sharp breath that he immediately exhaled as he stared at the bare breast exposed to him. The full, plump curve of it made his mouth go dry as the image of Titian’s nude filled his head again. The sensation it aroused in him was one he didn’t like.

With a growl of disgust at his reaction to her, he quickly drew up the covers over her again. Throughout the night, Ewan continued to remove the beads of sweat from her brow as her fever showed no signs of breaking. It was only when the first gray light of the day tried to push its way through curtains covering the bedroom windows that he realized his efforts might be a hopeless cause.

Although her fever had weakened, she was still hot to the touch, and he heard a soft rattle in her breathing. The mold out on the moor combined with the rain and cold could not have done her any good. But she was young, and she seemed in reasonably good health. He would not allow her to die without making every effort to save her. She stirred slightly as her eyes fluttered open. With the curtains closed, only the fire provided any light. The woman’s reaction when he’d found her on the moors had not left him, and he’d purposefully kept the room with as little light as possible.

“Lie still, lass,” he said quietly then crossed the room to retrieve some of the chicken broth Mrs. Selkirk had left on the hearth so the fire would keep it from going cold.

Before he filled a bowl with the broth, he pulled the glove from his pocket and pulled on over the metal spindles that substituted as his hand. The broth was still warm, and he knew it would do the woman good to take some of it. Ewan returned to her bed, and there was a glassy look to the large hazel eyes staring up at him.

“You need to eat some of this broth. It will help to make you feel better.”

She didn’t answer and her eyes drifted close. Determined to have her take some broth, Ewan sank down on the edge of the bed. He awkwardly raised her up slightly so she was pressed into his chest. It allowed him to hold the bowl with his gloved hand while feeding her the warm liquid with his other.

His charge tried to avoid the spoon he pressed between her lips, but Ewan refused to let her do so. Once more she opened her eyes to look up at him. He wasn’t sure if he saw horror in her gaze or if it was merely the look of someone quite ill. Ewan ignored the thought. Although he only managed to have her take six or seven spoonfuls, he knew it was better than nothing at all. She needed liquids, and the broth served that purpose. When she refused to eat anymore, he laid her back down into the pillows and realized how damp her sheets were.

The idea of changing her sheets meant trying not to look at her sweet curves. The idea that he would succeed in doing so made him release a soft snort of disgust. Ewan sprang to his feet and quickly crossed the room and opened the door. As he’d expected, Asadi was sleeping on the door’s threshold. The boy had still not grown accustom to the idea of an actual bed.

“Asadi,” he said quietly. The boy stirred slightly, but when Ewan said his name again, the young man was immediately on his feet.

“Yes, Argaty sahib?”

“The lass needs her sheets changed. Ask Mrs. Selkirk to bring fresh sheets and come help me change them,” he said softly. The boy started down the corridor, and Ewan quickly clarified his command. “And tell Mrs. Selkirk she’s to come. I don’t want Maggie. The girl is scared of her own shadow.”

“Yes, Argaty sahib.”

Ewan returned to his patient and bent over to feel her forehead. It was still hot, but for the first time in hours it was a great deal cooler. He straightened and studied her for a moment. Even with her hair damp from her feverish sweat, she was lovely. What had drove her out onto the moors at night in the driving rain?

She stirred beneath the sheets, and he quickly bent over her to ensure they were up to her neck to prevent any other erotic displays. He didn’t like the effect the sight of her naked curves had on him. The woman was ill, and he was a sick bastard for enjoying the few glimpses he’d seen of her sweetly-curved figure. She opened her eyes as he busied himself adjusting her covers. The moment her gaze fixed on him, she shrank back into the mattress. Despite the dim light, he knew his close proximity gave her plenty to see, and she was clearly frightened by the sight of him.

“I’ll not harm you, lass,” he growled softly as he turned his head so she could only see his unblemished profile.

Her reaction wasn’t unexpected, but he didn’t like the way it made him feel. In the past year since his return from the war, he’d grown used to the way people responded to his damaged body. Ewan jerked upright and turned away to hide his deformities. Her reaction to his mangled body troubled him far more than it should have.

Coming Fall of 2019
(No seriously. This time it's for real)

The Beastly Earl

When letting go of the past is easier than taming the beast and freeing the man within.

Coming Fall 2019

Connected Books

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Blurb

Read Two Chapters

Praise for Monica’s Other Books

— TwoLipsReviews

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— Babbling About Books, and More

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— Lucy Monroe, USA Today bestselling author

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— Sabrina Jeffries, USA Today bestselling author

Praise for the Reckless Rockwood

“Absolutely loved it! Fast paced, page turner…

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Twisted secrets and more than one love triangle

The Reckless Rockwoods Series

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Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2