The wind whipped against Edin’s face as she approached Castle Lennox, the craggy walls looming in the distance like the silent sentinels of some forgotten battle. She felt the burden of the assignment on her shoulders, though she was more than accustomed to the idea of a job to be done. Her pulse quickened as the castle grew larger, and the thought of sharing the mission with Finley — a rich, spoiled man — settling like a bitter taste on her tongue.

With her gaze fixed on the looming stone of Castle Lennox, she scaled the wall with practiced ease, her fingers finding purchase on the jagged edges of the stones. The wind howled, tugging at her cloak, but Edin was used to the wildness.

She reached a large tree growing beside the wall and, after a swift and quiet climb, perched herself upon one of its sturdy branches. The castle entrance was below her, and from her vantage point, she could see the men and women moving about, preparing for whatever the day might bring.

Exhaustion from the journey caught up with her, and despite her best efforts, her eyelids grew heavy. She let herself drift for a time, letting the cool breeze and the muffled sounds of the castle below soothe her, if only for a moment.

It was the faint sound of boots crunching on gravel that jerked her awake.

Edin blinked rapidly, shaking off the remnants of sleep as she focused on the figure below. He was leaving. She was certain of it before the shape even fully registered, though the certainty turned to clarity as Finley appeared from behind the castle gates. She watched him as he said his goodbyes to the older woman — a thin woman with graying hair, her voice low and warm despite the distance between them. A mother.

She felt a twist in her chest — an ache, a pang that she quickly shoved aside. To see someone else have that moment — the chance to say goodbye — was a reminder of what she had missed. It was something kept beneath the surface, something that only stirred in moments like this.

Finley’s broad shoulders moved with the easy grace of a man used to war, used to authority. His cloak fluttered behind him, the family crest pinned to the fabric with an almost childlike pride.

Idiot.

It was a mistake, a foolish one. Anyone who looked could identify him, could tie his name to his face with ease. And in this business, that was a mistake worth noting. She narrowed her eyes, taking in every detail. His was tall, broadly built, yet something about him felt out of place, as though he were too finely honed for the kind of brutality a war would demand.

The task was simple enough, but the fact that she had to share it with him gnawed at her. He didn’t seem incompetent, no. But there was something about him, something that made the air around him crackle with… charm. The kind of man who commanded attention without asking for it. And it didn’t help that she didn’t like being told how to do her work, especially by a man she hardly knew.

He turned and Edin’s breath caught in her throat, though she was careful not to move.

“Look at ye, all clean and ready fer war,” she muttered under her breath, her voice low and laced with more than a touch of sarcasm. “Ye look too pretty tae be walkin’ off into battle.”

The words were out before she could stop them, and her eyes narrowed as she studied him.

His rugged jawline, the sharpness of his features all contributed to a presence she wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with.

Finley’s gaze flickered down to his family crest. She knew he was thinking about it, likely trying to decide if he’d been foolish or simply bold. He was bold, there was no denying that, but also foolish.

Still, her gaze lingered on the crest for a moment longer before moving back up to his face.

He turned and nodded to his mother one last time before striding toward his horse.

A dark steed, strong and powerful, was tethered at the gate, its coat gleaming in the low afternoon sun. Finley mounted with practiced ease, one foot in the stirrup and then the other, settling into the saddle with a quiet confidence that somehow managed to draw Edin’s gaze once more.

She couldn’t help it. There was something about him that demanded attention, that made her mind whirl in an uncomfortable way.

She shook herself from the thought, leaping lightly from the tree and moving quickly to her own steed. She had no intention of allowing him to notice her — not yet, anyway. She kept her distance, riding silently behind him, careful to stay far enough so as not to draw his attention. The castle walls, now far behind them, were nothing more than a shadow in the distance, but Edin’s thoughts remained fixed on the man ahead.

Finley might have a mother’s farewell, but it was clear to her that he was a man out of his depth — like all men were. And it wouldn’t be long before he realized it.

***

The days bled together in a haze of silence and tension as Edin kept her distance, observing Finley from afar. She kept to the shadows, moving like a whisper across the land as she followed him, always careful to remain out of sight.

He didn’t notice her; not once — and that suited her just fine. Her only goal was to make sure the man didn’t get himself killed — or worse, get in her way.

At first, everything seemed ordinary. He traveled at a steady pace, always on the move but never hurried. There was nothing remarkable about his routine, just the usual trappings of a man who was traveling with purpose.

It was during the second day that she first noticed the two men.

They appeared at odd intervals, always seeming to materialize just after Finley had passed. She didn’t think much of them at first — perhaps just travelers, or maybe soldiers — but after a while, the feeling that he was being watched gnawed at the back of her mind.

The first man was tall, broad, with dark hair and a face that was as sharp as knives. The second man was smaller, with lighter features and a quicker step, but no less dangerous in the way he carried himself.

She had seen both of them at the inns Finley stayed at, always in the same place, always keeping their distance but never straying too far. And every time they looked at Finley, she caught the glint of suspicion in their eyes.

Whoever they were, aye, they were following him.

It was an unusual thing to notice — too blatant, too obvious — but there it was. She made a mental note to keep an eye on them. There were too many unanswered questions, and she didn’t like the feeling creeping along her spine, the sensation that something was off.

On the fourth day of following him, Finley walked into an inn just outside a small village.

Edin had been keeping her distance, as usual, watching from the shadows, but as the day stretched on, it became clear that he wasn’t coming out. Hours passed, the sun dipping lower in the sky, and still, there was no sign of him.

She bit her lip, wondering what he could be doing inside. She hadn’t seen him meet anyone, hadn’t noticed any other men lingering nearby. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

She didn’t care about his business inside that inn — it wasn’t her job to know — but she had to make sure nothing got in her way. If there was trouble, she wanted to be the first one to see it.

With a sigh, Edin made her way to the inn’s front door. She didn’t need a reason to be there; she’d been staying at inns along the route anyway, always keeping a low profile.

Stepping inside, she immediately regretted the decision. The warmth of the fire, the bustling of people in the common room — everything felt too alive, too exposed. She winced when she bumped into someone in the doorway, the force of the collision nearly knocking her off balance.

Her heart skipped a beat, but before she could lift her gaze, she lowered her head in the practiced gesture of an apology. She wasn’t looking for attention. She wanted to remain unnoticed.

“Sorry,” she muttered, her voice a mere whisper.

It was only when the stranger grunted in acknowledgment that she dared glance up, and there he was — Finley.

She froze for a heartbeat, her pulse quickening, but then she quickly stepped aside, trying her hardest not to meet his gaze. He didn’t seem to notice her and went outside about his way.

She was careful to keep her movements steady, calm, and casual as she approached the reception desk. The innkeeper — a stout, middle-aged man with a thick beard — looked up at her, his face creased with both suspicion and politeness.

“I’ll be needing a room,” Edin said, her voice steady as she met his gaze.

The innkeeper fumbled for a moment, reaching for the ledger in front of him. “Aye, we’ve a few rooms open.”

It was there that she noticed three keys were missing. These were rooms that had been taken for the night. Edin made a mental note of the missing rooms, her eyes darting over the list of available keys.

She thanked the innkeeper, paid for a room, and then made her way down the hallway.

Room 5, she noted first. It was locked, as expected. She couldn’t hear anything inside. Moving on, she checked Room 9, but when she put her ear to the door, she heard the unmistakable sound of hushed voices, followed by the scrape of a chair.

Not Room 9, then.

She didn’t wait around to confirm. Instead, she moved swiftly, but quietly, to the next door, Room 12. She had a feeling. Something in her gut told her that this room might be Finley’s. She stood in front of it for a moment, listening, but when no sounds came from inside, she acted quickly.

With practiced ease, she picked the lock. It was simple enough — a basic mechanism she had mastered over the years — and within moments she was inside, her footsteps light on the creaky floorboards.

She stayed in the shadows, blending with the room’s quiet emptiness. She could wait for hours if need be. But she was ready to confront Finley now.

Loved this bonus chapter? Keep the adventure alive—continue the journey on your e-reader. Happy reading!

Best selling books of Lyla

★★★★★ 102 ratings

Ian Wallace never wanted to be laird, but with a dying clan to save, he has no time for complications—especially not the fierce, beautiful prisoner hidden in his own new castle. She’s a MacAlpin, born of the blood he’s sworn to hate but the fire in her eyes stirs something deeper than duty. He should send her away. Instead, he’ll risk everything to keep her.

Read the book

★★★★★ 194 ratings

Thora MacLeod always follows her visions, but kidnapping Laird Aedan Cameron and blackmailing him into a fake marriage at a dangerous Yule gathering? Not her best idea. As sparks fly in enemy territory, their feelings for one another start to complicate things. Thora knows that her visions might save their clans, but they won’t stop her heart from shattering once Aedan finds out she’s been lying to him all along…

Read the book