Pierre de la Roche frowned as he brought his horse to a halt at the rise of the hill overlooking a valley below. Scottish rains always put him in a bad mood. Mostly because the rain washed away all signs of the brown-cloaked man he'd been following since he'd discovered Brianna gone from his lair. How dare they come and steal her away from him just when he was starting to enjoy stretching out her pain, watching her agony as he slowly destroyed her fingers? There were so many other bones he could have mangled. And they'd robbed him of the pleasure. But who had come for her? Lockhart was on his way to Pennyghael Abbey alone. He'd seen the evidence of that with his own eyes. Perhaps it was his friend, the unshakable Kaden Buchanan. De la Roche frowned. It mattered not; without Brianna to distract him, he'd had no choice but to follow Lockhart as the Templar made his way to the abbey as instructed. He'd force the Templar into the ambush that awaited him near the woodlands a few miles from Pennyghael Abbey.
