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Maisie fulfilled both of her promises, feeding and housing the newcomers. As she worked, she could not help but glance at the woman, who so easily conversed with the warriors with whom she traveled.

What must it have been like, to marry a man who was your enemy? Had these men, and the others at Duncraig, readily accepted her? It wasn’t until later that day she had the opportunity to ask her any of these questions. When Lady Avelina came from her room, refreshed and looking for a path to walk, Maisie volunteered to accompany her.

“I am sorry it dinnae rain, that I advised you to stay at the inn rather than travel to Aberdale.”

“‘Tis of no concern,” she said, both women pulling their cloaks tight as they walked the same path Maisie had with Kieran days before. “Niall would likely have wished me to stay and wait for him. But I am impatient to speak with Kieran. You’ve come to know him, then? How goes he?”

Maisie was uncertain how much she should say. “He is well. As you can expect, he was hesitant when your husband arrived, but the two have reconciled.”

Lady Avelina seemed surprised by her candor. “So you know of their disagreement.”

“I do,” Maisie said.

Lady Avelina looked at her even closer than before. “I am glad to hear of their reconciliation. Kieran left before Niall could speak with him properly.”

“I told him ‘twas ill-advised and urged him to return and do so but . . .” She shrugged. “Kieran does not seem to listen well.”

At that, Lady Avelina laughed. “A trait he shares with his brother and their father.”

“I am afraid Kieran does not seem as ready to forgive the latter as he was his brother.”

“So he has told you . . . everything?”

“Aye,” Maisie said softly, avoiding her gaze. Until she could not any longer.

Lady Avelina stopped, forcing her to do the same.

“You are the owner of the Red Stag Inn?”

“Indeed.”

“The sole owner?”

She knew what Lady Avelina was asking. “My husband, the previous owner, passed. So aye, I am its sole owner.”

That, it seemed, was all Lady Avelina needed to hear. Her eyes widened as she continued to stare at her, for so long that Maisie nearly looked away. “You are in love with him.”

In love? Nay, she was not in love with him. She’d given herself to him, aye. Was well pleased by him. But in love? She began to shake her head, but Lady Avelina put up her hand.

“You may deny it to yourself, but you’ve no need to deny it to me. I can see it in your eyes. Hear it in your voice. I myself fell in love not long ago and can see the signs easily.”

In love. With Kieran?

“I have no wish to marry again. Nor does your brother-in-law wish for it.”

Again, she laughed. A beautiful, tinkling sound so different than Maisie’s own harsh laugh. “You may not wish it. And Kieran may think he does not either. But that means little to your heart. Seeing you, speaking with you . . .” She smiled. “I’ve no doubt Kieran feels the same.”

“Nay, my lady, you are wrong. I do not . . . he does not . . .”

“We shall see soon enough.” Lady Avelina nodded down the path. “Come, we will talk and become acquainted.”

She said it as if there was a reason they should become so, and that reason was Kieran. But Lady Avelina was wrong. Even if Maisie did love Kieran—was it possible?—that did not mean he loved her. Neither did it matter. She’d not give another man, even one such as Kieran, control over her ever again.

Lady Avelina, who asked she call her by Lina only, was as kind as she was beautiful. She asked about Maisie and told her of her own childhood. How she’d lost her father and so many other relatives at the Battle of Black Friars. Avelina told her how she met Niall, and of their courtship, as they turned back toward the inn.

“Of course I had not wanted to fall in love with my enemy.”

“Nor do I want to fall in love with any man,” Maisie blurted before thinking better of it. Her tongue seemed to loosen of its own accord around this woman. “But your enemy,” she said, hoping to move on. “That could not have been easy.”