Iain accepted more ale from the passing servant and watched as Rob leaned in and whispered something to Anice. From the lady’s blush, he could comprehend the nature of Rob’s comment to his wife. That his friend had found such happiness from such unhappy beginnings warmed Iain’s heart. Even now, Rob was raising his half-brother’s son as though the boy were his own, and it had brought out the best in a man raised without a father. From a few subtle signs that he recognized between them now, Iain suspected that an announcement about a new arrival would be coming soon.

As he inhaled the scent of the evergreens decorating the windows and hearth and other strategic places around the hall, Iain found himself reminded of the coming holyday and the celebrations planned for the end of the year. Anice’s hall would glow with the light of many candles and lanterns when the dark of winter ruled outside. Each day the servants and the lady would add a few more sprigs of mistletoe and other greens to brighten the shadows. Though most of the feasting would wait until Twelfth Night, there would be enough spread over the next weeks and month for everyone to enjoy.

Glancing at the center chair at the table, he saw Struan MacKendimen also watching the pair, and wondered what the older man thought of the way things had gone. Struan had sent his natural son Rob away, to Iain’s brother at Dunbarton, to keep his identity a secret from his clan and especially from the man Struan had cuckolded. But when Rob had returned here four years ago and saved Anice’s and her son’s lives, ’twas only a matter of time before their secrets were laid bare before all.

Soon, the lady excused herself from the table, and Rob moved to his side then. An attentive servant filled their cups and stepped away. Iain waited for the teasing to commence, for he was certain that his searching of the hall had been noticed by his friend. He could not seem to stem the growing sense of anticipation with each passing hour.

“She is not here,” Rob said. “As ye already ken.”

Iain nodded and drank from the cup.

“She refused my invitation.” Iain drank again at his friend’s words. “As ye also kenned she would.”

“’Tis her way,” he said.

“Iain, Anice has made her welcome here.”

“More than most ladies would,” Iain admitted. Most ladies would have had the village whore beaten or punished for trying to enter their hall. But here, the lady had befriended her. Iain knew part of their story, and Rob was at the center. He suspected that there was more he was not privy to about the matter.

“She likes ye, Iain. Have a care there, my friend.”

The softly made declaration by Rob signified much to Iain. His friend had been not only friends with Robena, but also lovers at one time. When he had planned to leave Dunnedin and return to Dunbarton, Rob had asked Robena to accompany him . . . and to marry him. The offer, one made to give her the possibility of a new and different life, had been rejected long before Anice and Rob had overcome their challenges and the opposition of Struan MacKendimen. Still, though, in Iain’s opinion, borne of many years of observing his friend, Rob continued a friendship with Robena that was unlike any Iain had witnessed before. So Iain did not dismiss the warning in his words, either.

“It may surprise ye, but I like the lass,” he answered back.

An exhalation was Rob’s reply. His friend had not expected Iain’s words and, candidly, he’d surprised himself by uttering them. They held a simple truth within them. He liked Robena. More than liked, he suspected, but he did not care to explain it to anyone. He would never hurt her.

He would have a care.

“Then why are ye still sitting here, man!” Rob said, smacking him on his back. “She waits for ye and the gates will close for the night soon. Make yer escape now.”

Iain laughed loudly at Rob’s permission to leave. He swallowed the remaining ale down in two mouthfuls before he stood. Why bother denying it? He wanted her. He wanted to see her. He wanted to possess her and to pleasure her. His cock rose then. His body understood what was coming.

He tried to pace himself as he strode through the hall towards the door. Rob’s boisterous laughter from the dais where he remained revealed his failure to do that. What would his friend think if he learned that Iain had made certain his horse was saddled just outside?

The guards waved him out and Iain followed the main road down from the keep into the village. Robena’s cottage was near the other side of it, not far from the edge of Dunnedin. He urged the horse on as he saw the last turn ahead and soon he reached it, jumping to the ground before the horse had actually stopped.

The modest cottage appeared much as the others along this path did. A low fence surrounded it and Iain noticed the rope thrown over the gate—a signal that Robena was either engaged or out. If she was waiting for him, as Rob had said, then that rope was telling others to stay away. Iain led his horse around to the back and tied it there. He wanted to laugh as he walked to the door and raised his hand to knock, for he could feel the nervous anticipation growing.

Part of him, the very-hard cockstand beneath his plaid, needed him to barge in and take her until she could take no more. Part wanted to control the barbarian inside of him and allow some time to talk with her and reacquaint themselves to each other. Yet another part of him was completely and utterly confused over what to do. When the door opened, he gave up any hope of restraint and his expression must have shown it.

“I have been waiting for ye, laddie,” Robena whispered as she reached out to him. Her smile was warm and welcoming as she grabbed hold of his cloak and pulled him closer, kissing him. He decided on his course as she opened her mouth to his tongue.

Iain wrapped his arms around her and savored the feel of her against him for a scant moment before backing her inside the cottage and kicking the door shut with his foot. She laughed against his mouth without ending the kiss. Somehow she tugged his cloak off, loosened his belt—which allowed his plaid to drop to the floor—and had her hands under his shirt, on his skin, before they reached the pallet.

For a frantic moment, he drew away from her as he pulled the shirt over his head and she loosened the ties on her gown. Iain watched the fabric slide over her ample breasts and down over her curving hips, revealing the dark thatch of hair between her legs. He reached out to touch her there, sliding two impatient fingers deep within as she arched against them. His gaze never moved from hers and Iain felt his cock harden even more as the wetness covered his fingers.

He thrust a little deeper, swirling his fingers as they discovered a sensitive spot that made her gasp. Her eyes took on a dreamy appearance as he rubbed harder and faster, sliding in and then rubbing along her cleft. Allowing him his way, Robena breathed in shallow gasps as he felt her arousal grow. Then, she grasped his cock in her hand, encircling it and stroking it. Now it was his turn to hiss in pleasure. When she moved out of his grasp and fell to her knees before him, he shook his head.

“Nay, lass,” he said, taking hold of her shoulders and bringing her to stand. “There’s no time for that now.”

He waited for any hesitation in her gaze before he lifted her to her feet, guided her legs around his waist, and entered her in one swift thrust. The sigh she released as he filled her warmed his old heart. Iain could not describe the way it felt to be so deeply inside her body. Her nipples tightened and pressed against his chest.

Robena slid her hands around his shoulders and loosened his hair from its leather tie, entangling her fingers as she grabbed hold of it. She lifted herself up, sliding along his length, and then pushed back down while meeting his gaze again. The second time, he aided her with his hands under her arse. The third time, the need to make her scream out in release overwhelmed him, so he dropped to his knees, taking her with him, and then guided her to lie back on the pallet.

“More,” she whispered, arching her hips and taking him deeper still. “More, Iain.”

Everything blurred then into a fury of passion as he touched and took her. In spite of thinking that his release would be a quick one this first time, Iain’s seed did not spill until he had made her scream out three times in pleasure. When she tightened around his cock that last time, he let go with a roar.

For a time, the blood rushed in his ears and every sound seemed magnified. His breathing and hers echoed within him. The creaking of his boots as he shifted to keep most of his weight off her. The long, soft sigh she released as she stroked his back.

“There was no need to rush so, Iain,” she whispered, merriment filling her voice. “Ye could have taken off yer boots first.” He laughed in reply, falling on his back and tucking her to his side.

“Ye do that to me, lass,” he admitted. “I thought of little else on my journey here, or through what felt like the longest meal ever consumed.”

Robena would be the first to admit that his words made her feel as warm inside as his attentions had. The look in his dark blue eyes told her he wanted her; she’d seen the desire there when she opened the door. It did not take a whore’s knowledge to recognize the readiness of his flesh beneath his plaid. She stroked his arm now, even while she rubbed her leg against his leg. And against his boots.

Sitting up, she shimmied down along his body and loosened his boots. Unconcerned with her lack of clothing, she knelt at his feet and tugged them off, tossing them into the same pile that his plaid and shirt had made when they’d hit the floor. Grabbing up a few more blankets, she shook them over him and then joined him once more. The heat pouring off his body more than made up for the lack of clothing in the coolness of the cottage.

“Have ye eaten, lass?” he asked. She settled against him, sliding her leg over his.

“Aye. But there is stew and bread and cheese, if ye wish it,” she said. The lady had sent over food and ale in anticipation that Iain would spend his nights with her. She could send for more, or go herself if needed, for Iain was an honored guest here in Dunnedin.

“I think I ate,” he said. His laughter rumbled deep in his chest and she could feel it under her hand. “I told ye, I wasna thinking about the food.”

Robena pushed herself up, climbing from the warmth of the blankets and him to ready some food for him. It took little time to scoop some stew into a bowl and return to him.

“Would ye like to sit at table?” she asked, nodding to the table and stools in the corner of the cottage near the hearth.

“Nay,” he said, sitting up and crossing his legs. “I will take that.”

Robena handed him the bowl and poured ale into two cups before sitting with him on the pallet. Watching the way he shoveled the thick, savory stew into his mouth with barely a pause, she realized he had rushed here to be with her.

“So, tell me of the villagers,” he said, nodding at her to talk.

She fell into her stories easily, telling Iain about the people who lived here and what had happened since his last visit almost four months before. That he knew them and seemed interested in them was something that Robena liked about him. He could have remained a visitor, an honored one at that, and yet he’d become part of the town. ’Twas not unusual for Iain to work with Rob’s warriors, or even to spend time working in the village as needed.

“Moira and Pol are discussing marriage,” she began.

“Again?” He laughed, and she loved the sound of it.

“I think it is their end-of-year ritual. As the dark of winter approaches, and Christ’s Mass, he asks once more. She thinks on it through Hogmanay and the new year, as he tries to convince her to say aye. By spring, they forget and continue on as they have been for years.” The blacksmith and the healer had two daughters together and were inseparable, so the whole village loved to watch his yearly campaign. Wooing at its best.

Robena watched the way Iain’s eyes sparkled and how easily he was moved to laughter. He was almost a score of years older than her, but he was yet filled with the vigor and enjoyment of life. He asked about this one or that, and she gave him bits about each one until he finished eating and she finished telling him about the changes and happenings in Dunnedin since his last visit. But mostly, she just looked her fill at the breadth of his chest and the masculine angles of his face.

It took a few moments of silence before she realized he’d emptied his bowl and cup and was sitting and staring back at her. She stood and reached for those and put them in the bucket near the door to be washed . . . later, from the desire that filled his gaze now.

“’Tis not late enough to sleep,” she said as she watched him stand. His male flesh did as well.

“Aye, ’tis not.” Instead of reaching for her, he walked past her and picked up her gown and shift. “And there will be plenty of time for that,” he said, understanding her expectation. “I need to walk a bit after riding for these last days. Do ye mind?” He held out her garments to her.

“’Tis yer time to do as ye please, Iain.” And his coin. She would naysay him not at all during his time here.

His gaze darkened, and a flash of something moved over his expression. She, who could read men and their needs and wants, was mystified, for it was either anger or disappointment. At her? What had she said to cause it? Then it was gone, and he nodded at the clothing in her hands.

“Join me?” He’d surprised her, which startled her even more.

Robena nodded and got dressed quickly. No matter her haste, she could not help but watch him, trying to understand his mood, his needs.

Men were creatures of habit, and she’d learned early on to be mindful of those habits in her customers. Men also appreciated her attention to the details, so they did not have to repeat themselves. They liked it when she did the things they liked her to do without having to ask. Though there were those who liked the ordering part of things, most enjoyed the feeling that they were special enough to remember. And they paid well for that from her.

He paid her well for that. But this was not his habit to do. Usually, on shorter visits, he spent most of their time together on that pallet, barely pausing to eat or sleep. On his longer visits, over the dark days and nights of midwinter, he slept here, and spent most of his days with Robbie and the others.

Something was different now. Not in a bad way, but in a way that set her senses off. Watching him, he seemed to be thinking on some matter that made him quieter than usual. He lifted her cloak from the peg by the door and held it for her. When she tied it on, he lifted the latch and waited for her to go first.

The night air swirled around them, cold but not damp. Winter was nigh, and they but waited for the first storm of the season to strike. She lifted her head and inhaled deeply, enjoying the fresh coldness of it. A nigh-to-full moon lit the ground and made it easier to see their way. Though she could walk the village paths in sheer darkness, he did not know his way around as well.

“Do you have a place in mind to go?” she asked.

“Nay,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “Just around.”

She took his hand and he pulled her closer, tucking her into his side, though she was used to walking without touching him. Admittedly, in the chill of the night, his nearness warmed her. He shortened his longer paces to fit hers and they made their way along the path through the village.

Since they encountered no one at this time of night, Robena wondered if that was the reason why he touched her so outside her cottage. Everyone in the village knew of his visits, so it would surprise no one, but he also did not make it his custom to do this. She glanced at their joined hands and wondered what to make of it.

He pulled her to a stop then, and turned her to face him. Pushing the hood of her cloak back, he grabbed her shoulders and lifted her face to his.

And kissed her over and over until she was breathless. When he lifted his head and gazed down at her, there was something there in his eyes she’d not seen before. An emotion that had no place between a man and his whore. Something that would muck up everything between them, if she was correct about what she saw there.

Terrified at the very thought, she did the only thing she knew to do—she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back.