Running footsteps approached, thumping across the sand. Her heart vaulting into her throat, she yanked her dirk from the scabbard at her waist and turned. Four men charged her, surrounding her. MacBain's men.

"Stay back!" She forcefully slashed her weapon at the closest one. He jumped back, but two more rushed her from the left. She stabbed the blade at one of them, but missed when he leapt out of the way. The other grabbed her arms from behind.

"Let go of me, you bastard!" Still having some movement, she spun the dirk in her hand and jabbed her weapon backward into his gut.

He howled into her ear and shoved her away. "The bitch stabbed me! Grab her dagger!"

She kicked the man in front of her in the groin, sending him sprawling backward and slashed at the next man to approach. She cut his sleeve and he scuttled away.

"Where is that cowardly MacBain?" she yelled. Was he so afraid of her he would send in all his men and remain hidden himself?

Surprising her, another man grasped her knife hand in a strong grip, twisted it behind her back and squeezed her wrist. Pain shot through her arm. She swung her leg around behind, hoping to hook it behind his knee and knock him off his feet, but she missed.

"Bastard! Unhand me!" Grinding her teeth in determination, she held onto her dirk. But the pain in her arm became overwhelming. "Nay!" She could hold the weapon no longer and it dropped to the sand. She screamed and yelled, hoping to alert the MacKay guards posted on the ramparts.

"Calm down, sweet Jessie." 'Twas Gregor MacBain's unnerving voice. He came around from the right and stopped in front of her. One of his men still held her restrained.

"You bastard! What do you want from me?" she growled.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I but want to marry you so we may have a lifetime of happiness." He gave her a broad smile which was clearly false.

"Do you think this is going to cause me to want to marry you? Nay, just the opposite."

"A lot of men kidnap their future wives. It has a long history of success in the Highlands," he said, his grin now smug.

"Not here. All you want is my dowry, and the land my brother will give you. You don't care one whit about me."

"Now, you ken that is not true, m'lady. I care a great deal about you," he said in a placating tone.

She knew he was lying, for he'd only shown up again after he'd gotten wind of her increased dowry. Why had Dirk done that? Did he want her married off so badly to whoever was greediest? That was the same reason Torrin had come. He was land-hungry, too. Although 'haps not as much as MacBain.

"Come quietly and no one will be harmed." MacBain glanced over his shoulder, toward the castle. "Bring her to the horses," he told the man restraining her.

MacBain led them between the sand dunes, the high grasses providing extra cover from anyone who might be watching from the castle's battlements.

She screamed again as loud as possible. "Help! Help me!"

"Be quiet," MacBain said through clenched teeth. "You leave me no choice." He dragged a handkerchief from inside his doublet.

"Nay!" She shoved her knee upward into his groin.

"Umph!" He doubled over clutching at his stones which she had hopefully smashed into dust.

She tried to twist from the other man's grip, but his hands only tightened on her wrists.

Raising up, MacBain slapped her hard across the face. "You witch! Don't you ever do that to me again."

Pain sliced through her cheek. One thing he could be certain of—if he forced her to marry him, she would soon be a widow, for she would kill him.

"Edward! Help him hold her," he commanded.

MacBain's two men held her firmly in place while MacBain tied the gag through her mouth. Ugh! It tasted salty with his sweat. Gagging and coughing, she bent forward, hoping she didn't actually vomit.

"Bring her this way," MacBain said.

She pretended to comply for a couple of minutes. When she felt her captor's hands loosen a tiny bit around her wrists, she elbowed him in the stomach and yanked her arms. One of her wrists slipped from his grip. She wrenched away from him and ran through the dunes, her feet digging into the soft sand.

"Capture her!" MacBain ordered.

Tugging off the disgusting gag and throwing it, she raced through the grasses and gorse bushes, thorns tearing at her clothing and skin, leaving burning scratches. Her right foot sank deep into the sand. She stumbled and fell to her knees.

Blast!

"Ha!" One of the men on her heels grasped her arisaid from the back. "Got you, lass."

She slid her hand to her ankle and pulled the small sgian dubh hidden there from the sheath. She turned and stabbed his shoulder.

"Ow! Bitch!"

Two more men joined him, tackling her to the ground, almost crushing her beneath their combined weight. One yanked the knife from her hand.

"Get off me!"

"Don't force us to hurt you," MacBain warned, standing somewhere over her while the others held her face-down, the sand cutting into her cheek. She wanted to hurt him. Badly.

"Release me! I refuse to marry you. You cannot force me."

"Aye, indeed, I can." He chuckled. "I only need tell the minister we were in a trial marriage which was consummated. You ken how they hate those trial marriages and want them made legal and binding in the eyes of God as soon as possible."

"That makes no difference." She kicked at one of the men. "No minister would agree that this sort of abuse is allowed."

"I'm not abusing you. Only disciplining my disobedient wife. You're the one hurting yourself by fighting us. Tie her hands and her ankles and carry her to the horses."

"What the hell are you doing?" a deep and forceful male voice demanded.

Who was that? From her position on the ground, Jessie turned her head and looked up at Torrin, standing among the grasses, sword drawn, Iain Stewart beside him.

Two of the MacBain men drew swords. Considering how well-armed they were, all of them had clearly obtained their swords as they'd exited the portcullis at Dunnakeil.

"You stay out of this, MacLeod!" MacBain ordered.

"Nay," he said with deadly calm. "Release her or suffer the consequences."

MacBain laughed. "You only brought Stewart with you. You're outnumbered."

"I knew you were a whoreson the moment I saw you," Iain said.

Two of MacBain's men launched into action, engaging Torrin and Iain in swordplay.

When both of MacBain's men fell, her captors fled.

"Where the devil are you going?" MacBain yelled.

"I'll get them!" Iain chased after the two cowards.

With her hands and feet tied, Jessie could do naught but roll upon the ground like a worm.

Torrin charged MacBain and their swords clanged, sparks popping in the gloaming. MacBain yelped, but she couldn't see if he'd been cut. Torrin was the aggressor, driving MacBain back, but he ran to her other side.

How she wished she could get her wrists untied, or the bindings cut.

Blades clanged multiple times. Someone cried out. A sword flew over her head, and she glanced back to see what had happened. MacBain fell to the sand and Torrin stood over him, the tip of the sword at his throat. A sudden fear seized her and she felt transported eight years into the past. 'Twas like seeing Torrin's sword just before he'd slit the throat of her foster brother.

"Don't murder him!" Jessie yelled.