p›It happened as quickly as a lightning flash.

Kneeling, gently cupping a firefly in her hand, Sammie lifted her head at the rustling in the nearby bushes. Without further warning, a black horse emerged from the trees, vaulting over a low hedge. Her heart nearly stalled with surprise, then fear flooded her as she realized the horse was headed straight for her.

Springing to her feet, she stepped hastily backward. She caught the shadowy glimpse of a rider who clearly didn't see her as he veered in her direction. She opened her mouth to shout a warning, but before she could issue so much as a peep, a strong arm scooped her off the ground.

Her breath left her body in a loud whoosh and pain shot up her backside as she was deposited sideways on the saddle with a bone-jarring thud. Her glasses flew from her nose, and her bag of insects fell from her fingers. What appeared to be a bouquet of flowers sailed past her. Cyril's distressed voice cried out, "Miz Sammie!"

The strong arm tightened around her like a vise, pinning her sideways to a large muscular frame as the horse raced into the woods. "Do not worry," a deep velvety whisper flavored with a faint Scottish brogue sounded in her ear. "Ye are perfectly safe."

Speechless with shock, Sammie tried to move her arms, but her captor held them trapped to her sides with his own. Turning her head, she found herself staring at a black mask. Fear snaked down her spine and clogged her throat. What manner of madman was this? A highwayman? But if so, why had he taken her instead of simply demanding money?