Page 18 of Trapped By the Exiled Bastard

“Good day, strangers!” the tailor exclaimed. “How can I help ye? What brings ye to our wee village? Oh, Lord, it’s been such a time since I had a bonny lass and a strappin’ lad in me shop! What an honor!”

Elin giggled, taken aback by his boisterous enthusiasm and pleased by the compliment. “Good day. Me name is Elin, and this is Keir.” She noticed how Keir stiffened when she said their real names, but she ignored him, focusing only on the tailor. “And ye are?”

The tailor smiled brightly. “As polite as ye are lovely. I’m just Stephen the shoemaker, tailor, clothier—whatever ye wish, I make it in me wee shop!” He gestured around him, then cast an eye over Elin thoughtfully. “A bonny young woman as ye is surely here for a new dress, aye? I dinnae ken what ye and yer sweetheart are doin’ travellin’ in a place like this, but I’ll make sure ye leave it with the fondest memories.”

She smiled at the playful suggestiveness in his voice, so different from the leering insinuations of the men at the bar and men like Eamon’s friends. He reminded her a little of Graeme and she made a mental note to tell Graeme when she got back, then paused in surprise at her own thoughts. Why would she be thinking of those men, those traitors with such familiarity? She tucked the troubling thought away and addressed Stephen.

“Nae dress for me. I cannae afford such luxuries, I’m afraid. I’m only here for a good needle and a few colors of thread if ye have them,” she explained.

Stephen tutted and shook his head, his blond curls bouncing as he did so. “Nonsense.” He glanced toward Keir. “Can yer lover nae even afford tae buy ye a new dress? Someone like ye should be with the richest of men tae pamper ye as ye deserve.”

Keir’s voice was cold as he answered. “She is neither me sweetheart nor me lover, and what we can and cannot afford is of nae concern tae ye. Only that ye have what we’re lookin’ for.”

“Perhaps I’m what ye’re lookin’ for, Miss,” Stephen teased.

Elin grinned and playfully matched his tone. “Perhaps ye could be, if ye lowered yer prices. Perhaps we could—”

Behind her, the door slammed. She turned her head and was surprised to see that Keir had left the shop. She rolled her eyes. Was he that averse to her having any sort of fun that he’d walk away at the very thought of it? Stephen’s eyes lingered on the door, then he turned back to her and said, “Well. He seemed furious. Are ye nae allowed tae flirt with handsome tailors, lass?”

“He’s always furious,” Elin replied dismissively. “I flirt with whoever I like.”

Stephen reached for a string and, with her permission, wrapped it around her waist to take her measurements. He noted down numbers as he asked, “And what do ye like, bonny lady?”

Elin laughed again. Truthfully, there was something about Stephen that felt safe; despite the fact he was handsome enough, she could tell that the playful banter between them was nothing but that. He reminded her of the pair of male companions who had occasionally visited the orphanage with much-needed donations, who had always had a twinkle in their eyes and a tease on their lips. Innately, she knew he wasn’t interested in her any more than she was interested in him.

It wasn’t often that she could feel safe around men, never mind like them. She’d had Eamon, on whom she’d relied for protection and sought for affection, but even he made her nervous when they were around his friends. The only time she had ever been truly relaxed with men at all had been—

She cut off the thought before she could smile at memories of a campfire and of a gentle whisper in her ear. She was being ridiculous, planting false memories in her own head, and she sternly reminded herself how every moment since meeting Keir MacKenzie had been hell.

“I like blue,” she said at last, pretending to misunderstand the question. “Like the sky on a summer mornin’.”

Stephen smiled knowingly. “That young master had quite the pair of eyes on him,” he observed. “Stay here. I’m gonnae go check me fabrics and see what I can have made for ye.”

Elin opened her mouth to protest at his words, but he was already gone behind a curtain, leaving her entirely alone for the moment in the main room of the little shop. She stood there, wavering for a moment, then looked behind her to the main entrance. Keir still hadn’t come back.

Was he going to? She didn’t even understand why he’d left in the first place.

Her thoughts were distracted by a gust of wind from somewhere ahead, and she frowned. Stephen was still nowhere to be seen, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she moved toward it. Was there another way out of this place? Her heart was in her mouth as she thought of the implications of the wind. Keir had left her alone. She’d be mad not to follow the little gust of wind to see if it led to a path out of here. Wouldn’t she?

With her pulse thrumming in her ear, Elin paced through the shop and into a side door, half expecting Stephen to call after her or, worse, Keir to materialize and imprison her once again. She entered a small storage room and gasped. Right at the back, cracked ever so slightly open, was another door leading outside.

This time, Elin didn’t hesitate. Without stopping to think, she raced the short distance across the room and burst out of the door into the alleyway on the other side. The cold wind of the day hit her and she gulped in the air, freedom sweet on her lips.

She stood still for a moment to orient herself, her breaths coming a bit too quickly with the excitement and nerves of what was happening. If she turned right, it would lead her back to the front of the shop, where no doubt Keir was waiting. She turned left, hurrying down the alley, hoping that the narrow winding path came out somewhere recognizable and that she wasn’t spotted by Noah as she hurried away. Was there any chance that she would be able to grab one of the horses as she fled? Her heart twisted at the idea of leaving Nightwind behind, but she didn’t know if it was possible to find him, claim him, and escape all without either of her captors noticing. But if she returned to Eamon without him…

A sudden impact wrenched Elin from her thoughts. A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and steadied her and she looked up into the face of a guard. “Steady, lass,” he told her. “Dinnae ye ken it’s dangerous for a young lassie tae wander around these parts by herself? Is it nae, Gordon?”

“’Tis,” replied his fellow guard. Both men were older than she was, perhaps in their late thirties or early forties, with pepper in their beards before their time that made them look even older. They were tall and strong, and though she didn’t recognize them personally, she knew their type. They were exactly the kind of ruthless soldiers that Eamon and his father preferred to keep in their service for the tasks nobody else wanted—tasks, she supposed, like keeping an eye on a nowhere village like Caldershore. “I’d say it’s rude for women tae be runnin’ intae men as well, Craig. She could have injured ye.”

“Forgive me,” Elin murmured, her eyes flicking to the Grant emblem on their breasts, confirming her suspicions. “I’ll be goin’.”

She tried to pull away, but Craig’s fingers dug into her shoulders, gripping her like steel. “I dinnae think ye will, mind,” he said with an anticipatory hum to his voice. “What’s the hurry? Ye can stay with me friend and I in this alley here and keep us company.”

“Aye,” Gordon agreed with a leer. He stepped closer, surveying her and giving her a smile that spoke of both appreciation and hunger. He whistled, long and low. “We’ll look after ye, darlin’. How about ye give us both a kiss with those lovely full lips of yers?”

Elin recoiled. “Let go of me.”

“Those lips are good for more than just kissin’, surely,” Craig jeered. He pushed her, pressing her until she was pinned against the wall of the narrow alley, his fingers still digging into her arms. Gordon stepped up beside him, the two men crowding her, looking down at her with a wolfish appetite. “How are ye on yer knees, lassie? Ye collided with me and now ye owe me some relief.”