Ayda was deeply engrossed in the book Elizabeth had loaned her, her mind completely immersed in the pages chronicling the high-sea adventures of the bold, handsome hero and the plucky, beautiful heroine.

So, she almost jumped out of her skin when the heavy drapes concealing her hiding place were suddenly ripped apart, and Gilbert Hampton’s face appeared in the gap.

Ayda, frightened and shocked, shrank further back into the window, while Gilbert’s fair, angelic features twisted into a malicious mask.

“You’re not supposed to be here, you stupid girl,” he said, grinning nastily. “Give me that!” Without warning, he seized the book from her numb fingers and scrutinized it. “This does not belong to you,” he declared, casting the book to the floor and kicking it aside, looking accusingly at Ayda. “It belongs to my sister. I expect you stole it, you horrid little thief.”

“No, I did not! Elizabeth loaned it to me,” Ayda defended herself despite her fear.

“A horrid little Scottish thief,” Gilbert drawled, his face alight with the sadistic enjoyment Ayda had come to know and dread over the past years of her incarceration. “Like Father says, all you Highlanders are the same. Since you have nothing yourselves, you cannot help but steal from others.”

That was too much for Ayda. Her Highland soul rebelled at the lie.

“’Tis yer faither who’s the thief, Gilbert Hampton, and he’s the worst sort of thief too because he steals people!” she shouted at him, her fury overcoming her fear. “And ye’re a nasty wee bully and a sneak, ye Sassenach!”

She felt a...