It took her but a few moments to realize the first of her problems—she had no clothes.

After Iain left, wearing a very strange expression on his face, Robena had searched his chamber for her gown, tunic, stockings, and shoes. As she searched the cupboard in the corner, she wondered if this was a plan on his part to keep her there. That brought a smile to her own face, for it was a demonstration of his sense of humor and even a bit of the playfulness that she liked about him. He might complain about his aching and aging bones and graying hair, but sometimes he behaved like a much younger man.

And his skills in bedplay revealed no waning of desire or vigor, as was the case with some of the men she saw. His body remained fit and strong, and he could outfight and outlast most of the warriors here in Dunnedin. She smiled again at the thought of Rob’s insults. She wanted to watch this battle. The sound of footsteps approaching down the corridor made her wrap a blanket around herself. A soft knock preceded the door’s opening.

“Robena?” The Lady Anice stood in the doorway holding a bundle of clothes. Hers?

“My lady,” she said, curtsying as best she could. “I beg yer pardon for being here.” Though she was welcome in the keep, Robena tried to stay out of view of the lady and the chieftain, Struan. Why bring trouble down on her head by flaunting her presence?

“Here,” the lady said as she tried to hand the bundle to her.

Easing an arm out from within the blanket, Robena reached for them, but the lady laughed and walked to the bed instead. She placed them there and walked back to the door.

“My thanks for bringing these. I wasna certain how I was to leave without them.”

“Iain asked to have them washed last night. He rarely asks for anything, so the servants hurried to do this for him.” The lady lifted the latch and dropped it, facing her. “Ye ken that ye are welcome to stay here with him, Robena.”

“Lady Anice,” Robena began, unsure of how to say what she wanted to without sounding ungrateful or unappreciative. “I ken my place, my lady. I cannot thank ye enough for making a place for me at table and making it known to all that I am welcome.” Robena paused then and nodded, knowing that her next words would come close to an admission she probably should not make. “’Twould be too easy to get the wrong idea if I stayed here with him.”

Something was dangerously different between them already, and staying here would just confuse her—them—even more. The contentment she had in her life came from knowing who and what she was, and her place here in the MacKendimen Clan. To blur the lines and pretend to be something, someone, that she was not and could never be, would leave her wanting when he left. Nay, that was not the truth. She would miss Iain when he returned to Dunbarton, but it would be so much worse if she allowed herself to want more than she could have. If she wanted him.

She swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat and smiled at Anice, trying to express a confidence in her words and acceptance that she didn’t truly feel right now. The lady, a few years younger than Robena was, studied her then and tilted her hair as though considering something about her.

“I wonder—who would get the wrong idea if you remained here with him?” she asked.

When Robena would have answered back, to point out the problems that could arise if she acted as though she mattered as other than the village harlot, Anice smiled and shook her head.

“Worry not, Robena,” the lady said. “Ye have never overstepped yerself here in all the years I have kenned ye. I would not expect ye to do otherwise.” She lifted the latch once more and tugged the door open. Robena could see the lady’s maid waiting for her in the corridor. “Though it might be something to see if ye decided ’twas time to overstep the boundaries ye have placed around yer life, and to claim a different place for yerself.”

So many possible replies rolled in her thoughts, and yet none would come to her tongue, leaving Robena silent and speechless as the lady left. Unable to face the challenge leveled at her in those words, Robena dropped the blanket and dressed. ’Twould be a poor show of gratitude if she did not get to the yard and watch Iain fight there. After all he’d done for her, and after he’d generously overlooked her lack of attention this last day and night.

Once garbed, she wove a braid to keep her hair from being blown wild in the November winds and put her cloak around her shoulders. Her stomach growled as she walked through the hall, reminding her of the meal she’d left untouched abovestairs, yet she did not stop. Not here. She could break her fast in her cottage later. She’d made it almost to the door when the laird stepped out in front of her. Struan MacKendimen ruled the clan, though Rob carried out many duties that the older man should.

Five years ago, Rob’s arrival back at Struan’s call had revealed the secret of their relationship, and the balance of everything had shifted within the clan. As the elder of Struan’s sons, though his natural son rather than his legitimate one, Rob had turned out to be the better one to lead the clan. But that was only known after Alesander MacKendimen, the other son, had married the Lady Anice MacNab and was killed in a strange incident on his way home to Dunnedin for the birth of their bairn. Robena would have spit on the ground, had she not been inside the keep, and had it not been Struan before her.

“What do ye here, Robena?” he asked, looking her over and not bothering to keep that slight look of disgust hidden.

“I am on my way home, laird,” she said, curtsying slightly as she tried to hurry away. In some ways, Struan had the same hardness in him that his younger son had. Once more, she stopped herself from spitting at the memory of Alesander MacKendimen. “Do ye have some task for me?” she asked. Even though it was a lie, she invoked the name of one of the few women the laird did respect, and she hoped it would protect her. “I will be going to Moira’s on the way, if ye need me to take a message there?”

The laird crossed his arms over his chest and seemed to think on her words before he shook his head. Then he nodded at the door.

“I ken that Anice has said otherwise, but I dinna want ye in my hall,” he said. “So, get ye gone from my keep.” He raised his hand as though to slap her, but dropped it with a grunt at her instead.

Sometimes a person, a man, would strike out rather than waiting to be struck himself. Robena thought this was Struan’s way now, for everyone here knew of his own son’s cruelty, and that Robena had been one of his victims—if a whore could be considered as such. Watching him now, she thought that their encounters only served to remind Struan of the terrible sins his now-deceased son had committed, which he had failed to stop. Something not many men would wish to remember or dwell upon.

She did not say a word more, for he was laird, and no one, especially not the village whore, could naysay him and escape unpunished. Even Rob’s intercession would not save her if Struan was intent on doing something. So, she did what a good whore would do—she bowed her head and made herself as small and unthreatening as possible as she walked the few paces left between her and the doors.

The winds caught her as she ran, past the stables, past the yard and out through the gate, toward the village. She did not stop until she reached her cottage and slammed the door closed. Leaning against it, she could not keep the tears from flowing.

The Lady Anice’s words about challenging the boundaries of her life had shaken Robena in a way that surprised her. With no chance at children of her own, she had begun helping other women to birth theirs. The knowledge that Alesander’s attack had taken that possibility from her bothered her more and more with each passing year. At least her own mother had had Robena—for company, for help, for something to pass on after her death. Robena could have nothing, no one, like that.

She’d fought off the growing despair as the years passed, but it was getting harder to do it. She found joy, or rather enjoyment, where and with whom she could, and tried to ignore the deep sense of emptiness at the core of her soul. The thing that frightened her most was not that she’d lost her purpose, but that she was losing her hope for a life fulfilled.

* * *

He never saw the blow coming.

One moment Iain was dodging Rob’s punches and deflecting the strikes of Rob’s staff without much effort at all, and the next, Iain was eating the dirt of the yard. Loud laughter and raucous insults rang out across the yard at his defeat. His boasting that had preceded their bout did not help him now as he stood and brushed the dirt off his face and spat it from his mouth.

“What happened, old man?” Rob asked, smacking Iain on his back. “Ye said ye would triumph this time.” The knowing look in his eyes told Iain that his friend knew exactly what had happened. And, damn him, Rob would be right.

Just as he had positioned himself for that final attack, Iain had seen Robena come running out of the keep like the very Devil himself was chasing her. Head down, she did not look up or about as she ran past them and everyone else who had tasks or duties inside the walls. He’d turned his gaze to follow her path, and Rob had struck him down. He did not care that he lost, for it had happened before and would again, but he did care that something had happened to her within.

“What do you think happened?” he asked Rob. His friend did not deny witnessing her flight from the hall.

“Anice was headed to yer chamber with her clothing when I left her,” Rob explained.

That could not be the reason, for Anice had accepted Robena’s place in the clan and allowed her entrance into the hall when she wished. He shrugged.

“I dinna ken. But I do not like the way she ran away.”

“Ye can find out the reason later,” Rob said. “I’m guessing she willna join us for supper.”

“Though she is willing to do anything I ask of her”—he paused at Rob’s raised brow—“that is the one thing she will not do.” Iain let out his breath and shook his head.

“She keeps to herself, Iain. Well, she keeps to her own matters, and helps out the midwife when needed. Anice has rarely gotten her to take meals in the hall. I rarely speak to her because she fears someone might think the wrong thing.” Rob had grown up with her. Run wild as children with her. Loved her . . .

“And she wants for nothing?” he asked. How could a woman be part of a clan, part of a village, and yet not be? When Rob did not answer him, Iain glanced over to find his friend staring at him, his gaze narrow and direct.

“Why does this concern ye? She is here for yer comfort on yer visits. Why does the rest of her life matter to ye, as long as ye are not inconvenienced when ye are paying yer coin for her time?”

Iain could not explain his reaction then. Without warning he swung at Rob and knocked him back on his heels. Not giving him a chance to rebound, Iain swung again and again until Rob finally fought back. The sounds of the crowd gathering and shouting faded as he threw himself into this battle. This time he gave as good as he got against his younger opponent, and when he tackled Rob and held him down, the rage or confusion cleared and he saw the smirk on his friend’s face.

He pulled back his arm to deliver the final blow and realized that this had been the purpose of Rob’s words—to make him understand the truth of the matter.

It did matter. It did concern him. She concerned him.

“God damn ye to hell, Rob,” he said as he pushed himself off Rob and stood, brushing the dirt from his hands. “Ye ken.”

“She matters to ye, does she not?” Rob asked quietly, blowing hard from the exertion of the fight. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and spit. “Do ye wonder why?”

“Do not push this, Rob.” Iain turned away then, unwilling to show his uncertainty to his friend.

They turned as someone called out to Rob. Brodie, Rob’s other childhood friend and now one of his most loyal warriors, walked towards them. Iain thought to escape, but the man’s information kept him there. Something had happened at the mill that needed Rob’s attention. As Rob called out orders, Iain decided to join them. Physical labor had helped him sort through his dilemmas in the past, so he added his name to the group being sent to see to the matter. Within an hour, they were mounted and riding out of the keep towards the west.

And, in spite of Rob’s sly smile when Iain asked, he arranged to send a message to Robena about his absence.

Aye, she matters, he thought as he rode with the others towards the mill.