Chapter 1 #2
Even with several fine pieces, it would take a considerable number of pilfered effects to amass the required bribe.
She paused in her assessment to deliver a scowl in the direction of the castle and hoped the chill of her glare somehow reached the heart of the king. Or at least the men who kept her from seeing him.
She was a nobody. She knew that. A woman in a homespun kirtle absent of any embellishments. A woman who might have been better off being an orphan than to have had the da she’d been cursed with. He’d cared more for drink than he had for his children.
Aye, looking at herself by comparison to the nobles lingering about in their costly attire, it was no wonder she wasn’t shown to the king when she’d sought an audience.
Usually, she could convince people to do nearly anything. It was a gift. Her father had deemed it such once, his skinny chest puffed up with rare pride. Which, of course, meant the skill was an immoral one, like the incredible deftness of her hands.
Everything she had ever been good at was wrong. Frustration simmered low in her stomach. Mayhap that was why living an honest life for so long had been so damn hard.
Though she’d not taken in laundry for over a month in her travel to Dunfermline, her fingers were still cracked at the creases from so many years of working with the harsh lye soap. Honest work didn’t pay.
Especially not fifty bloody marks.
Mayhap it truly was to her benefit that she was good at being bad.
Her abilities might be the only thing to keep Mac from certain death.
She had a way of standing out when necessary, with a confident gait and a toss of her rich, auburn hair. But she also knew how to blend into a crowd, slinking low into herself and tucking her head down.
Different situations required different responses. Now, in a thick crowd of so many watchful gazes, she did the latter. Her shoulders hunched forward as she rounded her back, reducing her average height to a more diminutive stature.
A woman standing nearby wore a shimmering green silk gown, a sign of great wealth.
Or at least once upon a time, it had been.
Now the hem was dimpled with stitch marks from being let out, and the band of her wide belt had shifted, revealing an old stain.
The woman might have had fortune at one point, but now she appeared to be enduring hard times.
Greer turned from the woman for a new target, one who didn’t appear to need every coin on their person.
Several guards clustered together a few feet away, and Greer shifted her direction again, away from them and toward a lone man who stood by with his purse looped carelessly over his belt.
Easy pickings.
Her pulse didn’t so much as tick offbeat as she steered toward him, her gaze fixed determinedly on something beyond the man as if walking with stalwart intent. She’d done this before, countless times, when stealing was her only opportunity for coin.
It had meant the difference between life and death on many occasions. Not only hers but also Mac’s.
He’d been so small, a bairn of only two, when their mother had walked out on them. There had been no food, no milk and their da was as useless as the tail on a pig. That had been the first time she had stolen but was certainly not her last.
The man didn’t notice her now as she approached, his attention combing over a wealthy noblewoman some feet away.
Perfect.
Greer swept by him, her fingers nimbly slipping the strings of his purse from their loose hold and easing the treasure into her waiting palm.
And what a treasure it proved to be. Its weight was significant with the promise of wealth.
In a smooth, practiced motion, she curled her hand back toward her to secret the purse away as she strode purposefully toward the edge of the crowd.
“My purse,” the man cried.
She didn’t quicken her pace or try to shrink deeper into herself. Nay, that would give her away. Instead, she continued as she was, though her heartbeat did kick up a notch. It wasn’t until she turned behind an inn that the panic quickening through her system eased.
“It was ye.” The voice came from her right, sudden and harsh with accusation.
She startled to find the man approaching, his face tense with rage. He followed her into the alley, cornering her where she’d meant to shelter, and put his hand on his wide hips, mouth frowning beneath his dark beard.
Greer widened her eyes, feigning an innocence that always served her well, and held up the purse. “Was this yers? I saw it on the ground and—”
The flat of his hand cracked against her cheek, sudden as a snake striking. She reeled in surprise. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been struck before, for she certainly had been. Rather, people usually offered an alternative before resorting to violence.
Malice glittered in the man’s cold eyes. He would get his purse and his revenge all at once.
The alley ended in a wall behind her with no way out but past the man. Greer cursed her poor choice in location for her attempt at refuge. She ought to have known better.
He stepped toward her, drawing his arm back once more as she slipped the dagger from her pocket. She couldn’t kill a nobleman, or she’d be dead herself, with Mac soon following. But she could scare the cur into thinking she might.
Before she could even show her blade to her aggressor, a shadow swept into the alley. “I wouldna lay another hand on the lass if I were ye.” The voice was low and calm, the threat in the tone more evident than if the warning had been bellowed.
The man turned once more to Greer and she caught sight of the man who had rescued her. A smile pulled at the corners of her lips.
He was none other than the man with the fine sword who hadn’t appeared at all interested in her. Mayhap he wasn’t so uninterested after all. And mayhap she could use that to her advantage.