Chapter 1
Elin Kerr twirled a strand of her blonde hair around her finger over and over again.
She tried to remain inconspicuous in the corner of the tavern where Eamon had told her to wait for him.
It was a fool’s errand to think that she would not be noticed; she had dressed in her finest deep blue travel dress and styled her hair just the way that Eamon liked it, eager to please him.
She had gone so long since the last time she had seen her lover that, now that he had arranged to meet with her, she wanted to do everything in her power to make him smile.
Whenever he gave her his rare approving look, her heart melted.
She knew that he valued her only because of her beauty, but what difference did that make?
She had long since learned that this was the only value men saw in women.
And, perhaps, if she could please him enough, he might see more about her as they headed toward their future.
Of course, it wasn’t ideal that they weren’t married yet, but Elin was nothing if not practical. She was aware that the notions of romance that they spoke about in storybooks were as fictional as the magic in those same tales.
Men took what they wanted from women in this world.
A woman’s strength came from keeping her guard up, being aware of everything, and ensuring that she kept herself in the right position to earn a life worth living.
Growing up in a ramshackle girls’ orphanage on the edges of the Grant territory, far from the intrigue of the nobles and the landowners, Elin had known from childhood what she needed to do to survive.
“Are ye here alone, lass?”
She looked up, broken from her reverie by a low, hungry growl of a voice.
A broad-shouldered man with dark hair stood over her, a predatory grin on his face.
Another, this one blond, stood beside him, his arms folded and his expression leering with anticipation.
Elin held back a sigh, resignation so strong within her that it drowned out the fear and disgust that wanted to swell in her stomach.
She had hoped to go unnoticed, but she could not pretend to be surprised that men like this had found and cornered her.
Elin carefully glanced around her, looking for an easy way to slip away from these men, but found none.
She swallowed, straightening her shoulders and speaking quietly but firmly.
“I’m waitin’ on me husband,” she said. It wasn’t entirely a lie.
She was waiting on Eamon, and he had told her that he would marry her one day, many, many times.
Whether it was the truth or not was immaterial—the fact was that he wanted her, and he cared for her, and that was more than many earned in their lives when they came from the same place as her.
“He wouldnae like it if I spent me time talkin’ tae ye fine men, apologies. ”
The blond one nudged his friend. “I’m sure yer husband wouldnae want ye waitin’ alone,” he said.
Elin’s hair stood on end as her instincts told her what was about to happen.
She shrank back, her eyes darting around as she tried to figure out her options.
She could not cause too much of a ruckus in an attempt to defend herself; Eamon was on his way, and if she acted violently or too unladylike, it could entirely ruin his reputation.
She wasn’t physically capable of overpowering these men, and nor did she think that even the most clever words would be enough to dissuade them.
“Me husband will be here any moment,” she warned, putting as much threat as she could into the words.
The brown-haired man reached out and grabbed her arm, his fingers digging in unnecessarily harshly. He tried to pull her close.
“Let go of me.” She tried to shake his hand off her arm, but his grip was like iron. The other man moved closer, and his hand reached for her hair. Alarmed, Elin twisted, her voice rising as the panic finally hit. “Leave me alone!”
“Come on, lass,” the man holding her said, pulling her toward him. “We just want a wee bit of fun. We’ll even let ye choose who goes first.”
She wrenched her arm free. “My husband will kill the pair of ye. This is yer last chance.”
The two men seemed to find her protest funny.
They laughed darkly and moved closer. Elin desperately stared around her, but either nobody else in the busy inn noticed, or they were simply pretending not to see what was happening.
She knew it was most probably the latter.
No one would risk themselves for her. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her breath came quickly as she realized she was out of options.
Then it happened.
As if out of nowhere, a man appeared, hood down and stance full of fury.
He was impressively tall, angular, and toned, his hair dark and eyes blue as the sky.
A fresh scar decorated his sharp jaw and his eye was sporting a new bruise, all of which just made him look more intimidating as he insulted the men who were harassing, then drew his sword.
Elin stared at the weapon, hypnotized not by the bloodstains but by the way the blade had clearly been taken care of, polished and sharpened and loved, wielded by someone who clearly knew it and the art of battle well.
The threatening men were scared away and scattered like rats in a sewer, but Elin could not even watch them go.
Her eyes returned to the handsome stranger who had intervened to save her, and a flare of recognition shot through her.
She had seen this face somewhere before, or at least one similar to it.
Eamon had sketches of them all around, those awful traitors who were still the scourge of the nation.
They were the quarry that the Grants still hunted to this day, determined to destroy the last of the clan that had turned against the alliance.
But even if she hadn’t seen those sketches, she remembered a long, long time ago the excitement of the whole land when the new alliance had ridden into town, Laird MacKenzie and his son, Theon, proudly at the forefront, with the bastard son a little behind.
She’d been a child then, and he’d been barely much older, but there was no forgetting those blue eyes.
“Ye…” she stammered, disbelief stopping her voice.
“Please,” he murmured in a voice as smooth as a spider’s silk and as dangerous as its fangs, “I dinnae need thanks. Just go home.”
He turned his back to go, but Elin couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
How could she?
How could she just pretend and let him go?
“Ye’re the traitor’s bastard!”
The man, who she now knew was none other than Keir MacKenzie, spun to face her with a look of pure shock and horror on his face.
His gaze grew dark, and for the first time, Elin felt truly afraid.
She remembered the quiet threat in his voice and the gleam of his sword with its bloodstains.
The men who had cornered her might have used her, maybe even hurt her, but her so-called savior was a wolf who could destroy her.
Her pulse quickened as a thrill of terror pounded through her blood, and she saw death in the set of his jaw.
“Gua—!” she started, but before she could finish shouting for help, Keir had moved.
It happened so fast that Elin didn’t even see it, but one moment they were standing apart, and the next, he’d clamped a hand over her mouth and pulled her so close that to anyone watching it would seem like a lover’s embrace.
His breath was hot against her ear as he leaned in and whispered, “Keep quiet. We’re goin’ upstairs. ”
Elin tried to fight against him, but she remembered suddenly how it would look for Eamon if she caused a scene in public. It would be easy for anyone to misinterpret how this looked; Elin in the arms of a handsome stranger, drawing attention to herself? The Grant heir would never live it down.
And so she stayed silent and, though her body went stiff, she did not resist as he dragged her toward the stairs and pulled her up toward what she guessed was his rented room, muttering darkly to himself the whole time.
They reached the room, and he shoved her inside, turning and slamming the door behind him. Elin stumbled but did not fall.
As soon as the door was closed and they were alone, she rounded on him, unleashing her fury toward him and the men downstairs all at once. “Never touch me!” she snarled. “When me lover gets here—”
“I dinnae care about ye or yer lover. Be silent,” Keir growled. He snatched a fraying piece of rope from a hook on the wall and moved toward her again, roughly grabbing her arms. “Stay still.”
Elin had no intention of obeying. She pulled her arms back, fighting as he swooped to grab her again, kicking out hard with the heavy sole of her shoe.
He grunted as her toe connected with his shin, but he used the momentum to lurch forward and regain control.
Keir pushed her back, causing her to stumble backward to the bed, her knees connecting with the edge.
Collapsed on the mattress, she had no way of fighting as Keir straddled her hips and covered her mouth again with his hand.
His body was hot and heavy above her, and his chest heaved as he stared down into her eyes. She wondered how she looked to him like this, completely at his mercy.
“I appreciate that ye have some fight in ye, but if ye make a sound, I’ll kill ye,” he warned. “Put yer arms together.”
Hatred burning inside her, Elin obeyed. He slowly released her mouth, then quickly bound her hands together. He slid off her, leaving her body oddly cold and light where the heat of him had been a moment before, and roughly yanked her to her feet.
“Will ye stay silent, then? Or do I need tae gag ye?” he growled.
Elin only paused for half a second before the fire ignited inside her again.
He was no better than the men who had accosted her downstairs, no better than any of them.
She spat at his feet, causing him to jump back in surprise or alarm, and before he could say anything, she snapped back at him.
“Coward! Thief! Outlaw! The MacKenzies are all traitors, but ye’re the lowest of them all.
Yer bastard blood shows in yer bastard actions, ye monster.
Do ye make a habit of stealin’ women for yer pleasure? ”
Keir raised a heavy dark eyebrow, his anger giving way to something inscrutable. “Ye think this is pleasure, lass? That says little for that lover of yers. Does he enjoy yer bonny mouth despite the foul words that spill from it?”
The anger already boiling inside her grew white-hot. “Dinnae ye speak of him. Dinnae ye dare! Me Eamon is a good man, a kind man, and stronger and more honorable than ye will ever be. He is an honor tae the Grant name!”
In response, Keir laughed, a harsh, cold laugh that carried no humor. “Eamon Grant is yer so-called lover? Of course, I’d end up caught up with one of his foolish mistresses of all people. How many of ye are there now? I suppose he thinks ye’re the bonniest wee doll in his collection.”
With a furious cry, Elin threw herself forward, blinded by rage and only wanting to hurt him.
Her bound hands rendered her ineffective, and Keir caught her without much effort, tutting as he did.
She scowled and twisted in his arms, throwing her entire body weight against him, and he grunted in surprise as she managed to get away.
With a growl, he grabbed her again, pulling her close in an iron grip.
“Stay still,” he warned her.
She writhed in his arms, desperate to escape, and kicked out with her legs. Jerking hard, she made him fall back, but it was still not enough to get away. She didn’t care. She’d fight until he killed her if that was what it took.
But as she kicked out again, to her surprise, saw him grimace as he pushed her back.
He raised a hand to his side, stumbling slightly, and Elin watched with widening eyes as his cloak fell back and his shirt darkened red with fresh blood.
He grimaced, gritting his teeth as he straightened himself back up, but Elin’s mind was already whirring.
He was injured. She could use this to her advantage, but she had to think quickly, and her thoughts were blurred by the anger still pulsing through her.
“Ye’re hurt,” she said. “Dinnae make this worse for yerself. When Eamon gets here—”
“Will ye stop yer chatterin’ about Eamon?” Keir snapped, clutching his side. “I’m tryin’ tae figure out what tae do with ye. If ye could have just kept yer mouth shut in the first place, I could have just left ye well alone.”
Elin’s fists clenched. “Ye’ll wish ye had left me alone. Ye’ll regret ever touchin’ me when he gets here. It’ll be any minute now.”
Keir’s expression changed from a scowl to something more alarmed. “He’s comin’ now?” He swore. “By crivvens, I dinnae have time for this.”
“He’ll kill ye if ye try tae face him like that,” Elin warned, nodding to his bloodied shirt. “Let me go. It’s yer only chance of survival.”
He scoffed. “Aye, until ye send him after me. Nay, lass, yer comin’ with me.”
Elin opened her mouth to protest, but before she had a chance, she gasped in surprise as the floor vanished from under her.
Keir slung her over his shoulder as though she weighed no more than a bag of flour and threw open the heavy window shutters.
Elin shrieked in protest and kicked her legs, beating his back with her tied fists, but he ignored her blows as though they were nothing as he peered out the window.
With a low groan, he muttered, “Hold on, then.”
Elin stilled, alarm overtaking everything else. “Ye cannae possibly—”
But Keir didn’t give her the chance to finish.
With one arm secure around Elin, he climbed onto the windowsill and then slid down, hanging on with his other arm.
Elin was buffeted by the wind, and her heart froze with fear.
Yes, they were only a floor up, but the fall could injure them badly even then, and if they fell at the wrong angle, they could easily die.
Keir’s fingers were already slipping, and Elin was now stock still, terrified that the slightest move would send them both tumbling to the ground.
But what could she do? There was no way he could pull them back up either.
She was going to die with this traitor!
“Ye’ll kill us! Ye’re mad!” she screamed.
“God willin’. Maybe then ye’ll stop talkin’,” he grunted, and then, to her horror, he let go of the windowsill.
The ground rushed toward them, and Elin closed her eyes as they fell.