Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
She sighed in relief when she saw the tavern. The village may have had areas where one could communally tend to their needs, but Mairi Cameron did not want to risk catching the eye of an eager man looking to talk, or worse, ask her to dance.
Perhaps I could duck inside unnoticed tae find a decent privy.
Mairi slipped away from the village square where nearby clans, along with her own kin, Clan Cameron, had gathered for the summer harvest celebration.
There were bonfires lit in every corner, children chasing one another through the stalls, and men shouting over cups of ale.
With the company of her two brothers and her sister-in-law, Mairi had been there nearly two hours already.
She had also seen her good friend Beitris which always brought a smile to her face.
Inside, it was louder than the clearing, but the noise was of a different sort.
Mairi pushed herself through the crowded entry, immediately regretting her choice.
Each table and seat was taken up by clansmen tossing back tankards of ale and serving wenches weaving their way in and out of raucous bodies and grabbing hands.
There must be men from every clan in the Highlands here.
She noticed one clansman in particular. He was sitting at a table on his own, no other men around him and no serving wench offering her attention.
He had dark brown hair that was touched slightly with gray on the temples: Mairi thought it made him look older than he was.
She was struck by how handsome he was, but it was the quiet power in his stance that caught her attention the most. He wasn’t looking at her, yet there was something about him—controlled, mysterious, and just dangerous enough to make her breath catch.
He looked up and met her gaze, and Mairi felt heat bloom across her skin, igniting everywhere his eyes touched. When he didn’t look away, her heart gave a sudden skip, flustered by the intensity of his attention. She tore her eyes from his and focused on the task at hand—finding the privy.
In all the time she’d spent in the village, Mairi had never before set foot in the tavern.
Even though she was a fully grown woman at twenty-three years of age, she was sure her brothers would be none too pleased if either of them knew she was in there.
Especially if they happened to see her smile at a lonely clansman.
It was near unheard of for a laird’s sister to enter such a place unaccompanied by a guard.
Aye, ‘twill take me but a breath’s time.
Her brothers never had need to know. She stretched her neck, looking toward the back of the room, spying a stairwell and an alcove, in hopes of finding some indication that there was a private space.
Weaving her way through the crowd of clearly drunk villagers, the sights and smells she was enduring made her aware she would need a washbasin more than the privy itself by the time she made it to the back.
The laughter, the pipers, the endless chatter, it had all begun to claw at her nerves rather than lift her spirits. She’d slipped away for the privy, but truly, she’d only meant to catch her breath, if only for a moment.
“Aye, now there’s a bonnie young lass, Gunther” a low voice muttered behind her, slurred but steady enough to twist her gut. “Wanderin’ in all on her own… Ye sure ye’re nae lost, hen?”
Mairi turned and stiffened at the sight of two hulking men stepping into her path.
They were broad, unshaven, and swaying slightly from drink, though their eyes were sharp enough.
One had a ragged scar across his cheek, the other a face so weatherworn it looked carved from bark. Both reeked of stale ale and sweat.
A chill traced her spine.
This is nae good…
“I reckon she’s here lookin’ fer company,” the scarred one grinned, Gunther she guessed, teeth yellowed and crooked. “Folk like us dinnae usually attract the gentle kind… unless they want a bit o’ rough.”
His gaze travelled slowly from the curve of her bodice to the hem of her skirts and the backs of his knuckles brushed along the edge of her sleeve.
When he stretched a hand to grab her arm, Mairi jerked back before he could get a hold of her, her shoulder bumping hard against the wall of the stairwell behind her.
“Ye dinnae want the likes of me company, I assure ye,” Mairi tried to make her voice as deep as she could.
The one with the scar, Gunther, smelled of whisky and rancid meat.
His presence loomed too close, his body heat slick and sour in the narrow space.
Mairi’s gaze flicked across the tavern hoping to catch someone’s eye for help but everyone seemed to be occupied with their own pursuits, blind to her rising panic.
“Now, now,” the other man murmured, stepping closer, his gaze crawling over her like grime.
“Nay need tae play shy. Nay lass comes in here alone by accident.” He came and stood beside her, cutting off her escape to the left.
“And that corset of yers looks tight, love. I’m sure ye’d breathe easier with a man tae help. ”
Saints above. How could any man speak such filth aloud?
“Why dinnae ye piss off, Wally, this lass is all mine,” Gunther growled, and without leaving her side, he gave Wally a push towards a near table.
Mairi’s breath quickened, Gunther clearly was the more sinister of the two.
With all his attention on her now, he brushed his fingers beneath her jaw, a touch as brazen as it was light.
Mairi flinched, but the grin he gave her was slow and smug, as if her reaction was some small triumph.
She wanted to scream, but at that moment another shout came from the other side of the tavern and Mairi saw not a head lift. No, screaming would do her no good there and her situation was a bit more dire than she had thought at first.
I cannae let them get hold of me…
She thought briefly about revealing that her brother was Struan, Laird of Clan Cameron, but she didn’t recognize either man from Achnacarry Castle or any of the surrounding crofts.
With the festival and so many visiting clans, they could be from anywhere, and revealing her surname might do her more harm than good.
Her stomach continued to churn while she tried to find the space and back away from them. “Trust me, ye dinnae want any trouble wi’ me,” she said. Hoping the stern nature of her tone would be enough for them seek what they were looking for elsewhere and leave her be.
To Mairi’s haplessness, Gunther grabbed her wrist, attempting to pull her closer. “Come now, deary, dae ye nae want tae sit on me lap? We can keep each other warm.”
“The summer night is warm enough. Let me go!” she replied, louder now, trying hard to twist out of his grasp. Scanning her surroundings for something heavy enough to hit Gunther with, Mairi spied a tankard of ale on a nearby table.
If Ι could stretch far enough out of his grasp…
With a sudden jolt, she shifted her weight, pulling against him with all her strength.
Her fingertips brushed the tankard once, then again, and on the third reach, she caught hold of it.
Before Gunther could react, she raised it and struck him hard across the side of the head.
The tankard connected with a dull crack, ale sloshing from the rim as the blow landed.
He cursed, stumbling backward with a hand to his temple.
Mairi slipped past him, skirts gathered in one hand and rushed toward the back of the tavern. In the corner, half-concealed by shadow and stacked crates, she saw a door she hadn’t noticed when she had entered. She wrenched it open and staggered outside.
As the fresh air hit her face, she was slightly relieved to no longer be smelling Gunther and his foulness. Her relief, however, was short-lived. The yard behind the tavern was empty, with no lanterns to mark the path back to the square, no laughter, no passersby or children roaming around.
A fresh wave of panic coiled in her chest. She turned once, then again, uncertain which way would lead her back to her kin the quickest.
Behind her, the door creaked open and Mairi turned just in time to see Gunther step out, one hand still pressed to his head, the other already curled into a fist.
“I was tryin’ tae be civil,” he muttered, his tone low and livid. “But ye want it rough, is that it? Have ye ever been kissed lass? Am I going tae be yer first?”
Her pulse pounded. She had never been kissed, and she definitely didn’t plan on letting that awful man steal it away from her.
She backed up until her spine met the stone wall of the tavern, the cold pressing through her gown.
Even in the waning daylight, she cast a desperate glance toward the path, hoping that someone might hear her, might recognize her and try tae fetch her brothers.
I should’ve told Finlay or Struan I was steppin’ away. Now nay one kens where I am.
Gunther lunged, seizing her wrist with brute force. He squeezed her tighter, his hand grabbing at her skirts, his breathing becoming heavy and labored.
“Ye’re naught but a brute! Let me go!” she yelled and closed her eyes tightly. She was not sure what he planned fully but she struggled against his weight all the same.
“Let the lass go!”
Mairi forced herself to open her eyes at the sound of another man in the ally. His voice was low but fierce and compelling, followed by a deep growl.
In a flash of pure muscle and heat, Gunther was flung from her, and she was free. The crash was deafening as he landed against the outer back wall of the tavern opposite the corner he had had her pressed against, sliding down with eyes closed, and making nothing but a grunt.
Mairi watched in horror as Gunther then tried to get up again and like a flash of lightening the other man was on top of him.
Mairi instantly recognized him as the man she had noticed earlier sitting alone in the tavern.
The intensity of his gaze now solely focused on Gunther as he pummeled the man again and again.