Something shifted in his expression. Not softening, exactly, but... awareness. His eyes flicked past her shoulder to where the guards were pushing through the crowd, then back to her face.
"And what would ye have me dae about it?"
"Are ye a gentleman?"
"Nay."
"Good." Ada's heart slammed against her ribs. The guards were closer now—she could hear their voices, sharp with frustration. She had seconds. Maybe less. "Are ye married?"
The question seemed to catch him off guard. His brow furrowed slightly and he waited a beat before he answered. "Nay."
Ada grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled herself up on her toes, pressing her lips to his.
He went completely still for half a heartbeat. She felt the shock run through him, felt his muscles tense beneath her hands. For one terrifying moment she thought he'd shove her away, expose her, hand her over to her father's men. Then?—
Then his arm came around her waist, sure and solid as iron, and he turned his body to shield her from view. He bent hishead lower, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. He was much taller than her, broader and the height difference made it awkward, but he angled himself to cover her completely. His free hand came up to cradle the back of her head as though this were real, as though they'd done this a thousand times before.
His palm was warm against her spine. His jaw rough with stubble where it pressed against her temple. He smelled of woodsmoke and sea air, and despite the terror, the desperation, and the guards bearing down on them, Ada felt an unexpected flutter in her chest. Something that had nothing to do with fear.
She crushed it down immediately. This was survival, not attraction. She couldn't afford to confuse the two.
The two men appeared at the edge of Ada's vision, breathing hard. They stopped short when they saw her locked in the stranger's embrace.
"Pardon, friend," one of them said, voice tight with frustration and something like wariness. "But we need tae see yer wife."
The stranger's arm tightened fractionally around Ada's waist. When he spoke, his voice was calm, almost pleasant. "Nay."
"It's important."
"I said nay." Still pleasant. Still calm. But something in the tone made both men shift uncomfortably on their feet.
"Look," the second man tried, taking a step forward, "we're on business fer our laird Just let us see her face, and if it's nae who we're looking fer, we'll be on our way."
"The lass is with me and she has been fer a long time now." The stranger straightened slightly, though he kept Ada tucked against his chest. "And I dinnae care whose business ye claim tae be on. Leave."
"We cannae dae that."
The stranger moved.
Ada barely tracked it. One moment he held her gently, the next he'd released her and closed the distance between himself and the two men in three long strides.
The first went down with a sharp blow to the jaw, clean, efficient, the kind of strike that came from years of practice. The second man swung wildly, his fist cutting through empty air as the stranger ducked beneath it. An elbow to the temple dropped him beside his companion, both of them crumpling to the ground like cut strings.
Silence spread outward from where they lay unconscious in the dirt. The festival noise seemed to pause, musicians trailing off mid-song, conversations dying. Everyone within sight was staring now.
God, help me!
The stranger stood over the fallen men, breathing easy, not even winded. His expression hadn't changed, still calm, still controlled, as though knocking two men unconscious were no more taxing than brushing dust from his sleeve. Then he turned back to Ada.
She stared up at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. He was a stranger who owed her nothing, yet he'd fought for her with the kind of controlled violence that should have terrified her. It did terrify her. But not in the way her father's cruelty did. This man's danger felt... different. Deliberate. Restrained.
"Who are ye?" His voice remained level, but his gaze pinned her in place like a specimen under glass. "And why did I just knock two men unconscious tae save ye?"
Ada's throat felt dry as sand. The festival noise resumed around them gradually, cautiously, but it seemed distant now, muted. She took a step back, putting space between them.
"It's better if ye dinnae ken. But thank ye."
His eyes narrowed. "That's nae an answer."
