Boarshead Inn, Kirkcaldy, Scotland

Spring, 1852

Agnes lay in bed, the sounds of muffled voices filtering into her room. Well, it wasn’t her room, actually. And she wasn’t alone. On the floor, within arm’s reach, lay Laird Keiran McKenna.

She’d come to the inn as her cousin Lady Clarissa’s companion. Clarissa had sent her fiancé, Lord Dumfries, away but had realized what a fool she’d been. They had travelled without proper planning so that Clarissa could catch Ewan and ask him to return. That was when things had begun to go wrong. Well, not for Clarissa, but for Agnes.

A storm had rolled in that forced them to stay at the inn. Several other travelers, however, had the same idea and the inn was full. What was worse, was Clarissa had disappeared with Ewan. That was fine for Clarissa, her and Ewan would surely marry. Agnes was in a different situation entirely as she’d been left in the company of one of her least favorite men, Laird McKenna.

They’d been at her cousin’s family home for the past two weeks together and she knew enough of him to be certain he was a man she would never marry. Not ever.

It wasn’t that he was unattractive, quite the contrary. Nor was he mean or contemptible. It was more that he was rather insistent upon not obeying the rules of society. And in Agnes’s experience, men who disregarded those rules often left the women closest to them in vulnerable and sometimes ruinous situations.

His steady breathing captured her attention, and she found herself breathing along with him, entranced by the sound.

“Go to sleep, Agnes,” he growled from his spot on the floor.

“I’m trying,” she huffed, her head lifting from the pillow. “But I can’t seem to stop thinking about how I will be ruined after tonight.”

He let out a long sigh. “I’m not sleeping in the common room. It doesn’t matter how much ye squawk.”

She sat up then, the ropes underneath the mattress creaking. “I am not squawking, and it’s your duty as a gentleman to allow me to have the room…alone.”

“There are no more rooms, and I am not sleeping with the riff raff. I paid for a room.”

“But a gentleman—”

He stopped her before she could say more. “I’m not a gentleman.”

“Exactly my point. Clarissa and Ewan will marry after tonight, it doesn’t matter that they are together—”

“We are not getting married.” His voice was rough, harsh with his denial.

She inched closer to the edge of the bed, trying to see his face. Not because she needed to read his expression, his meaning was very clear. It was more that it was a very nice face, handsome in a rough masculine way that occasionally made her forget that he had no regard for polite behavior. And it was crucial she had a husband who understood the importance of caring for the women in his life. “It’s not as though I didn’t know that already. Trust me, when I say, I share the same sentiment.”

He didn’t answer, but she heard him turn away from her, grumbling to himself as he moved. He lay on the hard floor, with nothing but a single blanket that was half under him and half covering his body. A coat was tucked under his head. His very broad shoulders jutted up from the floor, and his long, muscular body stretched out well past the blanket. He was the sort of man after which statues were modeled. She wondered how muscles like his felt. Were they hard and cold like marble or warm to the touch?

She also couldn’t help noticing how uncomfortable it looked. She grabbed the pillow from her own bed and slid her feet to the floor.

“Agnes,” he warned again.

Crouching next to him, he turned toward her then. Even in the dark, she could see a glint in his hazel eyes that made her breath catch. It was like the one time she’d tasted brandy. It had slid down her throat like fire. Causing warmth to spread through her entire body.

That was how Keiran’s gaze made her feel now. She thrust the pillow at him, not knowing what else to do. “I’m in the soft bed. I’ll use my coat for a pillow, and you can use this.”

Hesitating, he looked skeptically at the pillow as she thrust it closer to him.

“It isn’t going to bite you,” she huffed as he continued to look doubtfully at the pillow.

Finally, he took it out of her hand, their fingertips grazing, and the tiniest gasp escaped her lips. He heard it anyway and she saw the way his gaze narrowed, his breath stopping for a moment as something delicious crackled in the air. “You should go back to bed.”

She nodded, getting ready to stand, but then she paused. “I’ve never been alone with a man like this before.”

“Keep it that way til ye’re married,” he said, turning away from her again.

That, however, did not deter her. In fact, it made it easier to talk to him without his penetrating gaze upon her. How else could she explain the confession that she allowed to slip past her lips. “I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever be married. I’ve never even been kissed.”

He looked back to her, then, before she could blink, his entire body had shifted so his face was an inch from hers. “You’re smart, pretty, and the kindest person I ken. Ye’ll be married before ye can turn in a circle.” Every part of her warmed at the compliment.

“Thank you.” She found herself leaning closer to him, until their lips almost touched. She wanted to keep moving closer, but fear stopped her. Her heart skipped a beat as she hoped he would do what she daren’t.

He didn’t. Still as stone, his gravelly voice shook through her. “But it won’t be me. I won’t kiss ye, and I most certainly won’t marry ye,” he rasped. “Go back tae bed.”

She would have jumped back on the bed at his harsh tone, but at some point, he had rested his hand on her hip and as she made to move his grip tightened, holding her close. It confused her to no end, his words pushed her away, but his touch, it made her breathless with anticipation. And she felt that same energy from him. He was excited too. It pulsed from his fingertips, straight to her core. “I didn’t mean for you to kiss—”

“Aye, ye did.” His body was moving closer, heating hers. Filling her with an energy she’d never known but it was intoxicating. “Ye don’t want me, though, ye just want the experience. I ken ye think I’m no good.”

Her breath caught again as her hand fluttered to his chest. When they’d met a few weeks before, Agnes had been travelling with her mother and her aunt. Keiran and Lord Dumfries had happened upon them when their wheel was broken. Lord Dumfries had aided them on the side of the road while Keiran had sat on his horse and watched, not offering any help. “An upstanding man would have assisted us when our wheel…” She didn’t finish because he squeezed her hip tighter.

“I never claimed to be upstanding. I’ve seen and done things…” He stopped, his breath fanning her face.

He didn’t have to finish. She knew he’d been in the war. Trembling, she lifted her other hand so that it rested against his cheek. “I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything, Keiran. I can’t imagine how difficult being a soldier was, but it’s all right now.”

She hadn’t thought the moment could grow any more intimate until his forehead came to rest against hers. “I wish that were true.” His other hand came to her face and they sat touching each other, head’s together, hands on each other’s faces as long moments passed. “You have a chance at a pure life, lass, and that isn’t with me.”

Then his touch was gone. He lay back down, rolling over and away from her. The sudden loss of contact made her feel cold, alone as she slowly rose and climbed back into the empty bed.