When I mounted he danced like a medieval charger until I gave him his head and then he took off like a rocket. For a while I let him run, feeling the exhilaration of speed as we shot across the parkland behind the castle. When the manicured lawns turned to springy turf and a path wound through pine forest, I reined in Rob Roy and we slowed to a walk. I didn’t want him stepping on another trap! As we emerged from the woodland and the path started to climb through the heather and bracken, I looked down at the castle and grounds below me. The loch was hidden in early morning mist, which curled up the shoreline, making the castle look as if it was floating on a cloud. Then through the mist I saw a movement and heard the soft thud of hooves on a dirt trail and the clink of bit and harness. Another rider was out early. I noted the graceful movement of horse and rider, fluid as if they were one being. Who could it be? The rider, a young man with dark hair, resembled nobody staying at the castle. Then of course my suspicions were roused. Was this the trap setter, returning to inflict more damage?

I swung Rob Roy around and plunged down through the heather to cut him off. He was moving too fast and had passed by the time I reached the path on which he was traveling. I spurred Rob Roy into a flat-out gallop, trying not to lose the other rider in the mist that now swirled around us.

“Hey,” I shouted. “You there. Hold up a minute.”

He reined in and spun the horse around so that it danced like a medieval charger, rising on its back legs.

“This is private land,” I shouted as I closed in on him. “What do you think you are doing here?”

“As to that, I might ask you the same question,” he said. “Last time I saw you it was in a sleazy London nightclub.”

“Darcy!” I exclaimed, recognizing him as the mist parted. He was wearing a white shirt, open at the neck, and his dark hair was windblown even wilder than usual. On that dancing horse, against the backdrop of heather and mountains, he looked like a Brontë hero and I felt my heart hammering. “Don’t tell me you’re staying at the castle and nobody told me.”

“I’m not actually.” He urged his horse toward mine. “I’m staying with a group of friends a couple of miles away. They’re renting a house on Lord Angus’s estate. They’re testing a new speedboat. They want to break the water speed record. And I didn’t realize that I’d strayed off Lord Angus’s land, so for that I apologize. I was just enjoying the speed of a good horse after all that time cooped up in the city.”