Chapter 6
The boat scraped against the dock, and Evan sprang out to tie it fast. He made a point of moving confidently, making it look effortless.
But in truth, every nerve in him was stretched taut as a bowstring.
His eyes swept the harbor the moment his boots hit the planks—scanning faces.
Seoras MacInnes’ reach was long, and his men could be anywhere.
And he had no doubt that Thomas and Murchadh would have sold him out—given away his location to anyone with the coin to pay. It’s what he would have done in the same situation.
He forced his shoulders loose, slipping his familiar swagger back into place as Ruby clambered out behind him.
Still, the unease gnawed at him. Damn his cursed luck!
How was he to know those fools up north worked for MacInnes?
If he’d even suspected, he wouldn’t have gone near that deal.
And why was MacInnes coming after him anyway?
He was just one man, surely not worth MacInnes’ time?
The answer was obvious. He’d crossed the warlord one too many times, and he’d had enough.
It was time Evan Campbell was put in his place.
Ah, damn it all. He knew well enough what vengeance looked like in these parts. If fortune were against him, MacInnes’ agents might already be waiting here.
“Keep close,” he murmured, offering Ruby a steadying hand as she stepped onto the dock.
It had been a while since he’d visited this place, but he knew it well.
It was a prosperous settlement that the locals simply called White Rock due to the color of the cliffs, and it had grown fat on sea-trade—both legal and the not-so-legal.
Smoke rose from chimneys, the smell of fish and tar thick in the air.
Children darted underfoot, dogs barked, men shouted greetings as they hauled in the last of the day’s catch.
All the bustle of ordinary life, but Evan’s eyes never stopped moving, tracking each glance thrown their way.
“We’ll stay there tonight,” he said, nodding towards a timber-framed inn that stood taller than the rest, its sign swinging proudly above the door. “Best place in town.”
Ruby frowned, looking up dubiously at the building. “Best?”
He shrugged. “Ye get what ye pay for, lass. And I’m in no mood for flea-ridden straw.”
Inside, the air was warm with firelight and the tang of ale. A few locals sat at tables, but no one gave them more than a cursory glance. Evan strode to the counter, Ruby close behind, and leaned against it with all the ease he could muster.
Ruby elbowed him out of the way. “We’ll be needing two rooms,” she announced.
The innkeeper, a plump man with shrewd eyes, raised his brows. “Two rooms? For a married couple?” He craned his neck, peering past Evan as though looking for unseen companions. “Do ye have others in yer party?”
Ruby stiffened, color rising in her cheeks. “Married? We are most certainly not—”
Evan swore under his breath and caught her elbow, yanking her towards the door before she could spill another word. He bundled her outside, ignoring her indignant protests, and pulled her into the shadow of the inn wall.
“Are ye daft?” he hissed, low enough that only she could hear. “Do ye want the whole town to know ye are traveling with a man who isnae yer husband? Ye’d have half the gossips sniffing round before nightfall—and worse besides.”
Her eyes flashed, stormy in the fading light. “So your answer is to lie? Again?”
Something hot flared in him, sharp and stinging. “Aye, and it’s my lies that have kept ye alive this long,” he snapped. “Or would ye rather I’d told Alec and David yer pretty truth back at the inn—that ye are a woman alone without the wits of a bairn! See how they’d have treated ye then!”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked as though she might slap him.
“I don’t want to share a room with you,” she said stiffly.
“Good,” he shot back. “Because I dinna want to share one with ye either. But unless ye’d rather sleep on the boat, there isnae much choice.”
They stood there, glaring at one another, the sounds of the settlement carrying on around them. Slowly, Ruby’s shoulders sagged, the fight in her easing into weary resignation.
“Fine,” she said at last. “One room. But don’t you dare think this means I trust you.”
Evan exhaled through his nose, though the anger still thrummed in his chest. “Lass, trust is the last thing I’d expect from ye.”
Still, as he held the door open and let her step back inside, he couldn’t help the twist of something unfamiliar in his gut. Ruby was right not to trust him.
And yet, he found himself wanting her to.
THE ROOM WAS SMALL, low-ceilinged, and far more basic than anything Ruby had ever stayed in before.
If she were being charitable, she might call it ‘rustic’.
If she were being uncharitable, she might call it ‘horrible’.
A narrow bed pressed against one wall, a rough wool blanket folded at the end, and a single wooden chair sat beside a table scarred with knife marks.
A candle sputtered in its holder, throwing long shadows across the cracked plaster.
Oh, hell.
Evan had disappeared almost the moment they’d stepped through the door, muttering something about “business.” He hadn’t asked if she minded being left here alone. Of course he hadn’t. He’d simply left her standing there, still bristling from their quarrel downstairs.
She sank onto the edge of the bed, letting out a long, shaky breath. Her hands twisted in her lap. Evan Campbell’s face floated before her mind’s eye. Why did the man get under her skin so much? He was arrogant, infuriating, and deceitful. Every word out of his mouth seemed calculated to annoy her.
A soft knock startled her. She jumped up, half expecting Evan, but when she opened the door, it was only the innkeeper’s wife, carrying a wooden bowl of steaming water.
“For washing,” the woman said shortly, giving Ruby a quick once-over before bustling away.
Evan might have told the innkeeper and his wife that the two of them were married, but the wife, at least, didn’t seem convinced and didn’t bother to hide her disapproval.
That was another thing she had to get used to.
Back home, nobody cared whether you were married or not.
It was nobody else’s business who you shared a room with and why.
But here there seemed to be a different set of standards—archaic by Ruby’s estimation—and getting her head around this new set of rules was taking some effort.
Why had she ever thought this trip was a good idea? Oh, what she wouldn’t give to roll time back to this morning! She’d give herself a damn-good talking to, give up all these silly ideas of time-travel, and book herself in for a pamper day at some expensive spa that she couldn’t afford.
With a sigh, she stared at the bowl of hot water. Her reflection wavered in the ripples—her hair tangled from the salt wind, her face streaked with grime. She looked nothing like the composed woman who, only weeks ago, had been preparing for her wedding.
Biting her lip, she pulled the chair close and dipped her hands into the warmth. She splashed her face, sighing at the small comfort, and then carefully worked the tangles out of her hair with her fingers. She tried to imagine what Evan would say if he saw her now—probably something sarcastic.
“Ugh,” she muttered. “Why am I even thinking about him?”
The sounds of the inn echoed up from below. Boots thudded across floorboards, men shouted to one another, mugs slammed against tables. Laughter rose, sharp and raucous, followed by the crash of something breaking.
Ruby flinched. It didn’t feel safe here. Every voice seemed too loud, every laugh edged with menace. She listened hard, half-convinced that someone might burst through the door at any moment.
They didn’t, but that didn’t make her feel any safer.
Ruby sat on the bed, wrapping the blanket closer around herself. She was determined to stay awake, determined not to be caught unawares as she’d been in the harbor. But the warmth of the blanket, the lingering comfort of the wash, and the steady rhythm of the noise below gradually lulled her.
Her eyelids grew heavy. She fought it, blinking hard, shifting restlessly on the straw-stuffed mattress. She would stay awake. She would.
Her chin sank onto her chest, and the noise of the inn faded into dreams.
THE NIGHT AIR WAS THICK with the smell of salt and smoke, and every sound sharpened Evan’s nerves. He took another swig from the bottle of whisky he’d pilfered, and carried on walking.
As he prowled through the muddy streets, laughter spilled from doors, boots scraped on cobblestones, and here and there the splash of water against moored hulls reminded him that escape was always close—if he needed it.
He moved with the same lazy swagger he always did, though his eyes darted to every shadow, lingering a moment on every face, hoping not to see the spark of recognition in anyone’s gaze. If word had somehow reached this place ahead of him, it meant he wasn’t safe.
It meant Ruby wasn’t safe.
Ruby. Thoughts of her rattled him more than blades at his throat or debts left unpaid. She had a way of cutting right through him with those sharp words and sharper eyes, as if she saw the rot underneath.
He scowled, pulling his hood up as he skirted the wharves and lingered by a group of sailors who’d just come in, listening to their conversation. They were discussing today’s catch. No mention of a hunted man and his female companion. Good.
He moved on, memories surfacing of all the other times he’d loitered in places like this.
Smuggling, tricking merchants out of coin, running bribes to militia—aye, he’d done it all and worse.
It was the life he’d found himself living, but it hadn’t always been like that.
Once, he’d been proud of his name, proud to be a Campbell. The blood in his veins meant something.
Until it didn’t.