Page 3

There was a good reason why he had not; this region was one Kieran had been to only once in his lifetime. That he knew of.

“Nay, I have not.”

“If you had,” the girl said as Kieran continued to watch Duncan, “you would know well my mistress’s reputation for venison pie and an intolerance of men who think to claim her, in any way.”

He was about to ask how a woman who would likely only reach his chin managed such a thing when Duncan MacBrannigan’s hand shot out to grab a serving girl, one even younger than the woman Kieran spoke to now. She’d managed to move out of his way, but he was not to be dissuaded. MacBrannigan reached again for the girl’s arm and pulled her onto his lap.

He’d come only for a room, a haven from the family he’d left behind. A place to stay as he considered what to do and where to go. Instead, it seemed, Kieran found an outlet for the anger that had been brewing for days. Part of him had wished for a fight.

Now, it seemed, he had found one.

3

Chapter

When she finished with MacBrannigan, she would murder Alice next. She’d been told to stay away from the man, but instead, the girl sashayed right past him. Not bothering to even elicit Sir Reynard’s aid, Maisie practically ran to the table where her girl was currently being fondled, an act MacBrannigan certainly knew would bring Maisie running.

“Unhand her at once,” she said.

The chieftain laughed. “And if I refuse?”

The hall had become quiet as everyone watched.

Maisie removed her trusted knife from her belt. “You will lose an eye before you or your men can stop me.”

“Ahh, but we will stop you,” he snarled. “And I willnae lose an eye.”

Maisie had built a reputation since her husband’s passing for two things: her cooking, and her ability and willingness to wield the weapon in her hand. Of course, these men could overpower her. The chieftain alone could overpower her. But if she did not protect those who worked for her, did not protect herself, she might as well close the doors to the inn and return home to the parents who put her in this situation.

“Unhand her and step outside, MacBrannigan.”

Maisie spun on her heels. The voice did not sound like Sir Reynard’s, who she’d assumed would come to her aid. Indeed, Sir Reynard was even now making his way toward them. So who said that?

MacBrannigan looked confused as well.

Until the man stepped forward.

Maisie’s arm dropped to her side as she watched him move toward MacBrannigan. Everything about him was dark. His hair, his eyes. She could see them clearly as the man moved past her. Locked onto hers, they offered both sympathy and something else. Admiration, perhaps? Maisie stared at him, unable to take her eyes from the man’s face. It was perfectly formed, as was the rest of him, which she could discern easily enough even though he wore a belted plaid.

“Who are you?” she asked, unsurprised when he did not answer.

Instead, rather than waiting for MacBrannigan to respond, the newcomer grabbed Alice by the wrist so quickly that she stood and stumbled into him. Pushing her toward Maisie, he then towered over MacBrannigan, who had no room to stand.

But his clansmen did. They surrounded the man, though he seemed unconcerned.

“You would start a war,” the man said calmly, “by attacking me when I’ve already challenged your chieftain?”

So he knew MacBrannigan, then?

“Move aside,” MacBrannigan said roughly. The man did and both of them, to a roar of cheers, made their way toward the door.

Maisie glanced briefly at Sir Reynard, who appeared as surprised as she, and then hurried to follow. By the time she reached the sunlight, a cool, almost winter’s breeze greeting her, there was a circle around the men. Did this stranger really mean to fight MacBrannigan on her behalf? It seemed so.

But why?

Swords drawn, the men circled each other. MacBrannigan raised his sword, a massive claymore, high above his head, ready to strike. The stranger, quick and nimble, moved swiftly, circling around his opponent, assessing the best angle of attack. MacBrannigan lunged forward with a powerful overhead strike, aiming to bring his sword crashing down on the stranger, who expertly parried the blow with his own blade, redirecting the force to the side. He countered with a swift thrust aimed at MacBrannigan’s chest, forcing him to step back and defend.

The clash of steel filled the air as the two warriors engaged in a flurry of strikes, blocks, and counters. The stranger’s strength was evident as he delivered heavy blows, seeking to overpower his opponent. With each exchange, the crowd gasped and cheered, fully engrossed in the intense duel unfolding before them.