Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Elaina pulled her hood down and walked into the tavern, fully aware that capture or worse might be moments away.
The door shut behind her with a sound far too loud for her liking, and she paused, feeling her heart thudding violently as if every man within might turn at once and know her for what she was: a runaway.
They cannae find me yet.
Still, the thought would not be banished. Her fiancé, Lachlan MacKenzie, was not a man who accepted refusal, and her father was not a man who forgave disobedience. If word of her disappearance had reached them already, then every mile she put between herself and those men might prove useless.
She moved forward at last, with her head lowered and her boots quiet against the worn floor. The tavern smelled of smoke, damp wool, and ale. Laughter rose from one corner, and a low argument from another. It was the sort of place one might pass through unnoticed.
“I am nae going back,” she murmured beneath her breath, gripping the edge of her cloak as though it alone anchored her resolve. “I will nae marry him. I would sooner die.”
The words steadied her, even as her stomach betrayed her with a sharp, traitorous ache.
Hunger, she had learned, was its own kind of danger. One could not think clearly while starving, nor flee effectively while faint. Worse still, hunger made noise, and noise drew attention.
A little food. Then I leave.
She selected a small table near the wall, which was close enough to observe and more importantly, close enough to reach an exit. Then, she sat down with her back half-turned, so no one might easily read her face. Before doing anything else, she lifted her gaze and began to study the room.
She counted men, noted weapons and marked the doors. There were two exits: the main door behind her, and another toward the back, half-obscured by hanging cloth. The barmaid moved with weary efficiency. Most patrons were too occupied with their cups to spare her a glance.
Good. Let me be forgettable.
And then her eyes fell upon him.
He did not belong… at least, not entirely.
While others slouched or sprawled, he sat straight-backed at his table, wearing a coat that was well-cut though travel-worn.
Dark hair fell neatly at his collar. A day’s stubble sharpened his jaw that looked as if it had learned restraint the hard way.
His eyes were green, the sort that noticed everything and judged little, warm despite the seriousness of his expression.
Attractive, Elaina allowed, against her will.
She thought, with sudden and unwelcome clarity, that he looked like a man one could rely upon, the sort her mother would have approved of, and that made him far more dangerous than a rogue ever could be.
She looked away at once, annoyed with herself. When she glanced back, only to confirm her own foolishness, she found his gaze already upon her. For a heartbeat they merely stared. His expression was curious rather than bold. Then, to her alarm, his mouth curved into the faintest smile.
She dropped her eyes, but it was too late.
By the time she had convinced herself she imagined it, a shadow fell across her table.
“Forgive me,” a voice said easily, “but I find meself unwilling tae pass the evening wondering whether I ought tae have spoken.”
Elaina looked up despite herself.
“Aye?” she said coolly.
He inclined his head. His green eyes divulged amusement. “May I sit?”
“I didnae invite ye.”
“Nay,” he agreed. “But ye did nae forbid me either.”
She hesitated. Refusal would draw attention. Acceptance might invite more danger than she could afford.
“Very well,” she said at last. “If ye insist.”
“I dae,” he replied, already pulling out the chair opposite her. “Dae ye mind telling me yer name?”
“I dae,” she retorted.
“Well then, mysterious lady, it is still a pleasure,” he said, as though the word meant more than courtesy.
He glanced at her empty table. “Ye look as though ye have nae eaten.”
“That is none of yer concern.”
He smiled. “Then allow me tae make it mine.”
Before she could protest, he signaled the barmaid. “Bread and stew,” he ordered. “And whatever passes for drinkable ale.”
“Ye are bold,” Elaina told him sharply, glancing at the door for one brief moment.
“I am merely observant,” he countered. “And ye, me dear lady, are hungry and wary, almost as if ye’re prepared tae flee at a moment’s notice. Am I so dashingly dangerous that ye are already looking for ways tae escape me attention?”
She stiffened. “Ye presume far too much.”
A flicker of irritation at herself and at him, too, ran through her. She should have stopped indulging the conversation.
“Perhaps,” he allowed. “And yet, here we both are.”
His gaze lingered on her as if he had all the time in the world.
Against all reason, she laughed, feeling utterly surprised at herself. She cursed inwardly.
“Careful,” she urged playfully, though her fingers tightened around her cup. “Ye may yet regret that confidence.”
“I often dae,” he replied with a mischievous shrug. “But never without enjoying it first.”
The shrug was easy, practiced and far too disarming. He was a distraction. She recognized it with the same instinct that told her when to watch the door and when to move on. Yet, she did neither.
The food arrived, and hunger won its battle with prudence. Elaina ate quickly but neatly, aware of his gaze without meeting it, feeling it like pressure along her skin. She kept herself composed, but her attention kept slipping back to him against better judgment.
“Ye are nae from here,” she heard him say.
“Nay.”
She refused to look up. That would only draw her into a deeper conversation with him, and that was the last thing she wanted.
“Traveling alone?”
He elongated the word alone languidly, insinuating God knows what. She felt like smacking him. Instead, she offered curt responses in hopes that he would leave her alone.
“Aye.”
“That is uncommon.”
“So is minding one’s own business,” she retorted, finally glancing up. The look she gave him was warning enough, or at least, it should have been.
He chuckled. “Point taken.”
He leaned back in his chair with an ease that suggested he was accustomed to standing his ground without force. “Still,” he went on lightly, “a woman traveling alone, hood up and eyes always on the doors, either ye are very brave, or very determined nae tae be noticed.”
“Or very tired of being questioned,” Elaina replied, lifting her cup and meeting his gaze over its rim, daring him to press further.
His mouth curved, and it made him even more handsome, if such a thing were even possible. She hated herself for noticing it, and hated more that she did not immediately look away.
“I would never dream of questioning ye.”
“Nay?” she asked coolly. “Ye have done little else.”
“Observation is nae interrogation,” he pointed out. “Though I confess, I am tempted.”
He leaned forward just enough for her to notice, lowering his voice slightly as he addressed her. The subtle, distracting scent of smoke and clean wool reached her.
She set the cup down. “Ye will resist.”
She meant it as a command, both to herself and to him.
“I doubt it,” he said frankly.
The honesty of it sent a quick, unwelcome thrill through. That earned him a sharper look. She expected insolence and found instead something disarmingly sincere. His eyes lingered on her face, not in a way that stripped or appraised, but as though committing her to memory.
“Ye look as though ye are deciding whether tae flee,” he mused softly, “or throw yer drink in me face. Both mean I still have nae managed tae win ye over.”
“If I were tae dae either,” she replied, disregarding the slight blush that covered her cheeks, “I would nae announce it beforehand.”
He laughed again, lower this time. “Then I shall consider meself warned.”
A brief silence followed, one that stretched rather than settled. Elaina was acutely aware of him then: the breadth of his shoulders, the warmth of his attention and the fact that he seemed utterly unconcerned with the impression he made, certain she would notice regardless.
“Ye have nae asked where I am going,” she spoke, tilting her head as she did so.
“I assumed,” he answered, “that if ye wished me tae ken, ye would tell me.”
“And if I dae nae?”
“Then I shall enjoy nae kenning,” he grinned. “Mystery has its charms.”
She shook her head faintly. “Ye are far too confident.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded. “But ye are smiling.”
She immediately forced herself into severity, which in turn, made his grin even more prominent. That unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
“Ye mistake politeness for interest,” she defended herself.
“Dae I?” His gaze briefly dropped to the loose strand of hair that had escaped her hood, brushing her cheek. When his eyes returned to hers, they were intent. “Then forgive me. I would hate tae flatter meself unnecessarily.”
At that exact moment, the sound of the tavern door opening cut through the easy moment like a blade. Elaina’s smile faded at once.
Three men entered together, pausing in the doorway, before marching inside. They did not laugh. They did not linger at the bar. Their eyes swept the room with practiced efficiency, pausing on faces, on corners and on exits.
Her blood turned to ice.
Nae… nae yet.
She knew them by instinct as much as memory: the cut of their cloaks, the way their hands rested near their belts, the faint air of entitlement that came from serving a man who believed the world owed him obedience.
Me faither’s men.
Elaina rose so abruptly that her chair scraped the floor. She ignored it, just like she ignored the curious glances it earned.
“I must go,” she said, already reaching for the coins in her pocket.
The man frowned. “Now?”
“Aye, immediately.” She pressed the coins into his hand before he could refuse. “Thank ye fer the company.”
“Wait—”
But she was already turning away. She moved with purpose, not haste, because haste invited notice. She slipped behind the hanging cloth near the back, and found the rear door exactly where she had marked it earlier.
A woman in hiding must ken every way out.
The door creaked as she pushed it open, and she froze for half a breath, listening. Voices carried faintly from within the tavern, but none followed her. She stepped outside into the cooler air, with her heart hammering as she pulled the door shut behind her.
Drawing her cloak tighter, Elaina rushed ahead. But her traitorous mind could not forget the image of the man she had just met. His eyes divulged everything: his interest, his awareness, and the perilous pull she had indulged without thinking.
Ye fool, she thought to herself.
That attraction for those warm eyes and easy confidence had nearly cost her everything. She could not afford softness. She had to be stricter with herself, because she knew that her life depended on it.
She turned sharply into a darker alley, which was narrow and damp, with its stone walls pressing close on either side. Her boots struck the ground too loudly now, while the echo of her own footsteps was chasing her forward.
Then a voice sounded behind her.
“Did ye truly think ye could get away with this?”
Elaina stopped. Then slowly, she turned.
All three men stood between her and the mouth of the alley, spreading just enough to block her escape. Daggers glinted in their hands, catching what little light the tavern cast behind them. Their faces were hard with satisfaction, as though the hunt had never been in doubt.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Run, her instinct urged, but her eyes measured the distance, the uneven ground and the weight of the cloak at her shoulders.
Could she outrun them? Perhaps one. Never all three.
The thought settled with startling calm. Then she would die trying, because a life bound to Lachlan MacKenzie was no life at all.
One of the men stepped forward, like a hunter threatening cornered prey. “Ye’ve caused enough trouble,” he mocked. “Are ye ready tae follow us back where ye belong?”
Something fierce and unyielding rose in her chest, burning away the fear.
“Never,” Elaina snarled.
She wrenched her cloak free, letting it fall to the stones. Her hands clenched, and her breath steadied as her mother’s voice echoed in her mind: dinnae wait fer mercy, demand yer own.
If this was the end of her flight, then she would meet it standing. And she would not go down lightly.