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you would
reconsider if it was a man who recently said to me that an honorable man would
seek only marriage.”
    Edith went on fuming. “Marriage is of no consequence,” she
mumbled, then paused. “Which one said that?”
    Juliette pointed at Angus, laughing to herself when Edith
took off like a trained falcon, in hot pursuit of Angus.
    Laughing outright, Juliette continued to the bushes and
glanced back. Seeing no one was watching her, she decided to go a little farther,
where the land sloped away, over a jumble of tumbled stones, down to where a
small burn spilled down an embankment. She stepped across the burn and found
the perfect spot, sheltered in a low stand of trees.
    A few minutes later, her task completed, she left the screen
of trees…and her heart leaped into her throat as she came upon three large,
burly men mounted on shaggy horses blocking her way.
    MacBeans!
    One of the men snarled something and the three of them eased
their horses forward, one of them reaching for her. Juliette screamed and
turned away, running for the cover of trees that lay just ahead.
    Suddenly, a shout rang out, and Juliette whirled around. The
three men turned to stare at the sight of a lone rider galloping toward them—a
rider garbed in black, his dark cape billowing out behind him, sparks flying
from the rocks struck by the hooves of his black horse as he rode like a demon.
    Juliette heard the whoosh of air as he drew his
claymore.
    Two of the men shouted and spurred their horses forward,
riding toward him. Juliette’s first reaction was to turn away, but she found
she could not. What she saw then would live in her mind for the rest of her
days.
    It was a moment both magnificent and terrifying, the most
ungodly, uncivilized act, and yet the most graceful deed she had ever
witnessed.
    Stephen rode between the two men, wielding his claymore to
the right and catching one of the men at the neck, between the head and
shoulder. Before the man toppled from his horse, he slashed to the left,
catching the other man across the chest before riding toward the third man, who
rode toward him with his claymore held in both hands, high above his head.
    Stephen rode his horse toward the man, his own horse never
veering from the course but staying true and striking the other horse, causing
it to stumble, unseating its rider. Before the man could come to his feet,
Stephen pinned him to the earth, driving his claymore through the man’s sleeve.
Blood seeped from a cut on his side.
    “Tell your chief that I keep what is mine,” Stephen said.
    The back of her hand against her mouth, Juliette watched in
horror as the man staggered to his horse, then mounted and rode away. Stephen
whirled his horse around and rode toward her. For a terrifying moment she
thought he might cut her down as well, but it was only his arm that came out to
grab her and throw her across the saddle in front of him.
    His horse never slowed as they rode back to the clearing
where the others waited. She could see from her upside-down position the rest
of the men watching them. She squirmed and was about to say something about her
discomfort when she felt the flat side of his broadsword come down against her
backside.
    It wasn’t very hard, and what force there had been was absorbed
by her petticoats, but she gave a yelp anyway, just as he jerked her upright
and gave her a shake. “The next time you disobey me, I won’t be so kind.” He
dropped her to her feet.
    Backing away, she stared at him, unable to speak. There was
something about what she had just seen—something that was both terrifying and
exciting. She had thought this man dangerous, but she realized now, with
absolute clarity, that he was far, far more dangerous than she realized.
    “You are appalled?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    “That was the most barbaric thing I have ever witnessed.”
    “Perhaps, but they would have done the same to me, mistress,
if given the chance. It is the way of the