Seonaid Dunbar had been trained as a Scottish warrior at her father's knee, and she would rather fight than flee. But running away to an abbey was preferable than marrying Blake Sherwell. No, she'd not dutifully pledge troth to anyone the English court called "Angel." Fair hair and eyes as blue as the heavens hardly proved a man's worth. There was no such thing as an English angel; only English devils. And there were many ways to elude a devilish suitor, even one that King Henry ordered her to wed. The next Countess of Sherwell was not sitting at home in her castle, embroidering, peacefully waiting for Blake to arrive. No, she was fleeing to a new stronghold and readying her defenses. Swords and sleeping drafts, Claymores and kisses. This battle would require all weapons—if he ever caught her. And the chase was about to begin.