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kind of abuse would bring on King Henry’s rage. Henry was widely known for his kindness to women and tolerated little of that kind of behavior in or of his subjects. Brentwood was already teetering on the wrong side of Henry’s good graces and the King had personally placed Morgan in the care of her uncle with the expressed promise her well-being be seen to at all costs. If Nic found the situation to be otherwise, the hell and fire that would rain down on Brentwood would soon become legendary. Nic did not have his reputation for no good reason.
    However, before Nic could continue his train of thought, his battle-honed senses peaked. Sensing the danger, Nic reacted even before feeling the hoof beats tearing up ground at breakneck speed. A complement of no fewer than ten, by his estimation, were nearly on them. Jumping from his horse, he dragged her along with him.
    “Don’t make a sound,” he commanded as he hurried his young charge and their mounts into the woods as deeply as possible to avoid detection.
    Morgan was too frightened to react. Frozen in fear, he pulled her back against him. Placing one arm around her waist with the horse’s reins still held tightly in his fist, she felt him place his other hand over her mouth. Quickly realizing his mistake, he pulled his hand away but did not release her. She could not have made a sound if she wanted to, but she just might run. Nic could not chance it. Fight or flight and flight was his bet at the moment.
    “Ease your breathing, Morgan. They are on us,” Nic whispered in her ear. She felt the heated breath as the soft-spoken words touched her and their meaning was clear.
    Nic went deadly still, freezing in place.
    So did Morgan. Feeling the danger, Nic felt it washed over his skin.
    Morgan held her breath as two columns of horses passed no more than twenty feet from their hiding place, pushing their mounts at a speed that would eventually kill the animals.
    Damn them!, she thought. They are going to kill my horses! Morgan took a step toward them.
    Nic jerked her back. "Let them go."
    So the search has begun, he thought.
    Her thoughts mirrored his. The search was on.
    It was obvious to Morgan they knew she was gone. The fantasy of her escaping without someone noticing was exactly that, a fantasy. Obviously, her uncle was back at the castle.
    Morgan realized she could not control her fear, and it would control her. So she told herself she would not feel fear, not any more. Anger made her less of a victim, and she refused to be that any longer. She let her anger roll within her. She let the dark emotion spring up in her so sharp that she began to tremble uncontrollably with the force and desire to kill her uncle. She hated Lester for having no regard for any life, animal or human.
    Nic, still clutching her to him, felt this reaction to the search party, saw her gray and drawn features, and cursed under his breath. He counted twelve men in total each bearing the blue and gold flying dragon. It was the crest of the Duchess of Seabridge.
    A fierce and foreign feeling settled within him.
    He was a knight of the realm, by God, sworn to protect the King and his subjects.
    However, above all else, he would allow no one to harm what belonged to a McKinnon, and she was his for better or worse.

Chapter 10
     
    “We can't remain on the main road if there is search party already on the loose. Come,” he said taking her by the hand. “We'll double back the way we came and follow the stream rather than the roadway,” Nic stated with a bit more anger than warranted. If he had doubts about the origins of her concerns those were put to rest. No one sends out that large of a search party for a petty horse thief.
    They needed to find a safe harbor to make camp and soon. Darkness was descending rapidly and he had no desire to be out in the open after dark. The search party was only a small part of the necessity to find shelter.
    Blindly, Morgan followed, not questioning his decision to