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like a mad dog.
    Her lungs burned as she fought for air against his ever-tightening hold. The bright
     sparks crossed her vision again, and she knew she was close to blacking out. Please, God, help me!
    Something hard poked her stomach. The hilt of his dirk! Her hands were going numb
     as she closed her fingers around it and jerked the dirk free. Then, with a last surge
     of strength born of desperation, she plunged it into Sean’s side.
    “Argh!” Sean made a loud animal sound between a roar and a groan and threw his hands
     up.
    Moira’s throat burned, and her head pounded with a violence that made her stomach
     roil. Still, she held on to the hilt of the blade when Sean jerked away. He staggered
     and bent over, holding his side. Blood seeped between his fingers.
    But Sean kept his feet. He was not badly injured.
    When he raised his head, rage glowed in his eyes like a demon from hell. If she was
     very lucky, she would have one more chance. Only one. She still held the dirk, but
     she had no idea where to stick him. She cursed her father and brothers for not teaching
     her how to protect herself.
    Her head was starting to spin, and she was weaving on her feet. With desperation clawing
     at her belly, she held the dirk in front of her.
    Then everything happened at once. Sean roared and launched himself at her with such
     force that she was hurtling through the air backward. Her screams echoing off the
     walls seemed as if they came from someone else. The back of her head banged on the
     floor, jarring her injured jaw and setting off a burst of blinding pain. An instant
     later Sean slammed on top of her, his weight forcing the air out of her lungs with
     an oof .
    God, no. She did not want to die with Sean lying on top of her.
     
    * * *
    Across the flames of the fire, Duncan saw the wolfhound’s eyes glinting in the darkness.
     He took another piece of dried meat and tossed it over the fire into the darkness
     beyond and was pleased when he did not hear it hit the ground. The dog was quick.
    “I’ve never seen ye like that,” Niall said, giving him a sideways glace. “It looked
     as though ye intended to fight their chieftain in his own hall with a hundred of his
     warriors watching.”
    “Hmmph.” Duncan prided himself on never letting his temper interfere with his judgment
     or cause him to forget his duty. But he had failed to control it tonight. In truth,
     his hands still itched to murder Moira’s arrogant husband.
    “Moira wasn’t at all like I remember her,” Niall said. “What did ye think?”
    “About what?”
    “About Moira,” Niall said, sounding as though Duncan was trying his patience.
    Moira had given him nothing. Not so much as a soft glance. I have no recollection of ye at all .
    “Do ye suppose she is all right?” Niall asked. “That Sean is an arse.”
    “That he is.” Duncan took a swig from his flask. “But he’s the man Moira wanted.”
     Her father doted on his little princess—he would not have forced her to marry Sean
     MacQuillan against her wishes. There were other suitable chieftains’ sons.
    An icy rain started up, causing the campfire to hiss and smoke. As Duncan’s temper
     cooled with the temperature, he thought back on that first moment when Moira entered
     the hall and saw him. In that brief instant, everything that had once been between
     them flashed in her eyes.
    It was gone almost before he saw it, and then Moira was as cold as this winter rain
     running down the back of his neck. Niall was right; Moira had changed. Though her
     eyes were the same astonishing shade of violet, they carried no laughter in them.
     The cautious woman he had met in the hall who measured her words was a far cry from
     the carefree lass who ran headlong through the dark, believing nothing and no one
     could stop her.
    Duncan threw bits of dried meat to the wolfhound, drawing the dog ever closer, while
     he pondered the question of what could have caused such a change in Moira’s