Page 6

“Shall I fetch you that meal?” Maisie asked, part of her wanting to step away. She liked little the feeling in her gut while in his presence. It was as if her chest no longer easily filled with air, but instead, she was forced to find it with each breath. Her tongue was too easily loosened by him; it would do well for them to part.

“Indeed,” he said, stepping aside to allow Maisie to pass. When she did, removing the cloak, she handed it up to him, not meaning to look so directly into his eyes. Surely the brush of his fingers on hers as he accepted his cloak was not accidental, a fact solidified as he allowed them to linger.

Aye, she was right to step away. It was the smart thing to do.

Then why, Maisie wondered as he opened the door for her a moment later, did she wish she’d not done so and instead was still in the courtyard with Kieran of Duncraig?

4

Chapter

“Might I join you?”

Kieran had watched the English knight approach. Having finished his meal but reluctant to find his room with Maisie still about the hall, Kieran responded to the Englishman.

“Please,” he said, indicating the seat across from him. It was a wee table that would fit no more than two.

“Sir Reynard de Wycliffe,” the knight said, extending his hand.

“Kieran of Clan Duncraig.” Kieran shook Sir Reynard’s hand, both men’s grips firm.

“That was quite a display of skill,” the Englishman said, sitting. He took a sip of the ale that he had brought with him.

“My father”—he nearly choked on the title—“taught me well.”

“As did mine, and yet yours, with the sword, was extraordinary.”

Kieran had been told that many times. “I trained hard. And often.”

He could have said, I trained hard and often to prove my worth to my adopted family. And would have said as much, as Kieran had never before been embarrassed to have been the foster son to the chief of Clan Duncraig.

Until now.

“Even so.” The Englishman sat back. “She is vulnerable,” he said, perhaps noticing Kieran’s gaze had wandered to the innkeeper. She spoke with a serving girl, the one that MacBrannigan had pulled onto his lap.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “A woman, alone, running an establishment such as this. I’ve not heard of such a thing before.”

“Her husband became ill and passed last summer. Many have offered for her since, but she declines. I fear the man left her with an opinion of husbands that she may never be dissuaded from.”

“You’ve offered for her.”

It was a statement, not a question, but the Englishman answered anyway. “Many times.”

“I can easily ken why,” Kieran said. “She is quite capable. And beautiful.”

“Very much so. Maisie’s reputation precedes her. Protects her. But I fear one day she will be left without protection when a man such as MacBrannigan presses his suit without regard for her wishes.”

Kieran peeled his eyes away from her and settled on Sir Reynard. “How does an Englishman come to travel these parts so often to know the innkeeper as well as you do?”

“My sister is married to a MacKenzie. We are quite close. Twins, in fact.”

“MacKenzie. They are allies to my clan.”

“And an enemy to MacBrannigan. I’d gladly have challenged him today.”

“Most are enemies to Clan MacBrannigan. Their chief knows little how to retain allies.”

“It seems at least one of their chieftains follows suit.”