“My lord,” she said cautiously. The village they had come upon was teeming with people, and as the two of them approached by horseback, the activity came to a rest. Eyes turned to them, and her heart started to hammer in her chest. Why? Why was she so nervous that they were viewing them together, drawing conclusions that were no doubt false?
They probably thought her one of his kept women, she thought, cheeks flaming.
“They will stare. Nothing we can do about it now.” He exuded a clam she wished she could master. As it was, her hands nervously flitted in her lap, and she could only imagine what the two of them looked like together. As if he could sense her emotions, he kicked up the trot of the horse with a sigh. Villagers cleared the way until they were stopping in front of a village inn.
“Do ye’ wish to come with me?” he asked, dismounting from the horse’s back.
She glanced between the still-gawking people and him, then picked up her skirts. She had best go inside. The less people that came by to stare at her, the better. Although, what would they think that she was actually accompanying him? Would they think her one of the harlots he took in?
When he noticed her pause, he gave her a droll look.
“Your eyes are flittering back and forth, and your knuckles are white. I can only assume by the way you’re biting your lip and nervously motioning back and forth with your head, you are debating whether it is a wise choice to enter the inn with me. You must be worried that perhaps they will think you’re a—”
“Well, that’s enough of that,” she said tartly, giving him a glare as she dismounted. Despite how much she couldn’t stand the deductions, she took the hand he offered and then promptly folded her hands over her skirts. “Now, let’s get on with this, shall we?”
“Aye, but are ye’ sure ye’ donna want to wait outside? Yer being very defensive—”
She took a handful of her skirts and breezed past him with an air of false confidence. “Must you do your deductions in public?”
“Well, seeing as you wouldn’t move until I did so, yes.”
She stopped in her tracks, and he nearly bumped into her.
“You are a vexing man, Alec McGregor,” she accused. Only he would use her anger against her.
“And you are an equally vexing woman, Blayne Shaw. Now, would you like to accompany me, or stay out here and give the villagers even more thoughts to ponder?”
He didn’t wait for her to answer this time. Nay, he slid his arm through hers, grabbed her other hand and folded into the crook of his elbow, and then brought her inside.
As much as it should have done otherwise, the heat of his body beside hers created a well of calm inside her.
She shouldn’t feel anything towards him, she thought, as he guided her inside the inn. She shouldn’t notice his heat or the way he felt so strong and firm against her, but as the ruckus of the inn began to surround them, she was thankful for that.
At least with him, however odd it was, she felt safe.
“Ah, our laird has arrived,” a boastful voice said from the shadows. A man emerged from behind the bar and greeted Alec with a brief bow before crossing his arms over his chest. One second respectful, the next irate. “Have ye’ come to relieve my inn of your refugees?”
Beside her, Alec shrugged.
“I should have some space soon, Ulrich. For now, be patient. I came to speak with one in particular, though. Is Branaugh here?”
Ulrich frowned. “That I donna ken. Is she the red haired one? Boxum, with a big arse that—” He stopped suddenly, and that’s when she noticed the glower come over Alec’s face. Ulrich cast a glance to her and gulped, some of his gusto fleeing.
“Ah, my laird. I think I saw her up in return to her room. Do ye’ need me to send someone to fetch her?” he asked. Alec paused for a second, and after a quick glance at her, shook his head.
“Nay. I’ll find her myself. My lady, would ye’ wait here for me?” He gave her a short nod, turned on his heel, and with every trait of a highland laird, he carried himself up the stairs and out of her view, leaving her alone—and frankly, worried.
The inn keeper relaxed after the laird was out of sight, gesturing to the seat behind her. “Ye’ can have a seat there while I try to find a room for ye’.” With a sigh, he turned on his heel, big shoulders hunched.
“Ah—That won’t be necessary. I’m staying at the castle with the lord.”
He went still for a second, as if he had a hard time processing that, and then walked off with lowly mumbled words, words too quiet for her to hear.
Blay sat where he’d directed her to and folded her hands neatly in front of her. It was the only way she could stem the shaking of them. What kind of work did Alec do here, that he could meet a lone woman in the light of day with not a shred of grace? He had promised to show her the way of his life, something he felt strongly about, and here she was.
Sitting at a table.
Pondering.
Dreading.
Heart hammering in her chest.
What was he doing that she couldn’t have come with him? She bit her lip, staring at her fingers. The more she looked at the stairs, the more curious she became, until she heard the chair scraping against the ground as she slowly pushed it back.
It isn’t your business to worry about, she thought to herself.
Aye, but then…Alec had said he was going to show her the ways of his life. Mayhap it had been a test, she told herself, putting her hand on the banister of the stairs. Surely Alex wouldn’t be furious with her for taking a peek?
With a curious bounce in her foot, she walked up the stairs, fingers dancing over the old wood banister that had probably felt a thousand hands during its life.
Blay was a curious person by nature, an unfortunate trait she had gotten from her father. Now, as she heard Alex’s deep voice the closer she came to the top of the stairs, that curiosity turned to concern. She cleared the last of the stairs, the old hallway lit with nothing but a lone candle on the wall, and it seemed that the place was clear of people. The only door open, with firelight casting shadows over the threshold, appeared to be the source of the familiar baritone—only this time, it wasn’t a soft rumble in her ears that made her knees weak.
No, this was the sound of a very furious, very dangerous laird.
Blay touched the wall, leaning as close in as she could without being heard, her curiosity getting the better of her. She wouldn’t interfere. It wasn’t her place. It wasn’t like Alec would ever harm someone, right? At least, not someone he was supposedly helping?
“Are you saying—”
“I was no’ prepared for ye’ to—”
“I should have you behea—”
That had her stepping out from behind the corner. It seemed she was wrong—but she wouldn’t have him threatening to behead anyone. Not while she was around, at least.
“Alec?” she said demurely, plastering on a sweet smile. How did one handle themselves in this situation?
He turned around quickly, and the emotion on his face nearly had her running right back down the stairs.
No, she thought firmly. Her father hadn’t raised a coward.
“You need to leave,” he hissed, slashing his hand at her. At the sharp movement, the woman sitting on the bed—a redhead with a rather large bosom—flinched. And when Blay took in the sight of the woman’s face, she saw why.
Her eyes were green and framed with thick lashes, yet the beauty was marred. Circling her left eye was a large, horrendous bruise. Whoever had hit her had done so with enough force to leave the skin red and black. And right now, through all of her horror and fear, she only had one thought.
Quicker than she had time to think, Blay moved around Alec and stood in front of her.
“And you need to lower your tone when speaking to a lady,” Blay said, quietly.
“She’s no lady—”
“Aye, she may not be. But I am. God forbid my father hears of how you’re speaking to me right now, Alec McGregor,” she warned. “Now, what is going on?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he snarled.
She looked behind her, at the bruised woman who refused to meet her eyes. She could only assume one thing.
Blay was…stunned. Nearly too stunned to focus on diffusing the situation. She had known Alec had a temper, but to harm a woman? The thought made her ill. He was no better than her ex-husband.
He was…a monster.
“Well, ye’ better, or I’m leaving here right now—and I’m taking her with me.” She saw movement from the corner of her eyes. The redhead had finally looked at her, but Blay was too focused on the barbarian standing in front of her.
“Really, now,” he drawled. There was a sarcastic, mocking tone to his voice that only made her blood boil. All of her “growing feelings” from earlier were gone, dashed away by the appearance of a monster she knew all too well—a monster that was glaringly similar to the one she had been married to before. “Where do ye’ ken ye’ll go, my lady? Back to yer father?”
She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. She wouldn’t let him put her down.
“So, yer going to go through the very forest you put fire to, with the risk of getting caught by rogues, and…what? Go back to yer father? With a traitor on your heels?”
“My father would be glad to have me home—”
“Aye, of course. If yer not kidnapped and killed first—and I would no’ be surprised if she was the one to stab ye’ in the back.”
She pressed her lips, words stuck in her throat. Despite everything she wanted to say and do, the green of his eyes held her still. There was a quiet fury in them, but it wasn’t directed at her. No, it was directed at the woman sitting behind her, and she knew that because Alec hadn’t looked away from her for a single second.
“Did you hurt her?” She had to know, if only to clear her own head.
“Nay.”
Hard. Brutal. The truth.
Through all of the uncertainty waving around her, she knew his words to be true. As much as Alec might look like a barbarian, he was not one, and she knew that he would never be one.
“Then we are done here,” she murmured, taking the arm of the woman. With Alec glaring daggers at her back, she walked from the inn, the woman following close beside her.