He made another count of how many men were on foot and the number of riders, as well as how they were laden with equipment and arms. When they started...marching, he was sliding backwards away from them, then ran to his horse and rode back for Donan in haste. Within the hour, he was riding along the loch, feeling the cool mist rolling off the surface of the water. He shouted out the password, ‘Lady Anne,’ to lookouts he knew were posted in the trees for ambush, to inform them who he was and not. For one, what I was planning to do was actually dangerous, regardless of how many safeties I had agreed upon with my source, my contact on the inside. But the tingling crawling from my neck over my spine into my nether reaches also stemmed from a different kind of nervousness. Some part of me was actually looking forward to this - to the danger, to the taboo, to the kinkyness. Of course, at this point I was telling myself that this part of me was journalistic instinct - the hunger for a good. More

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