Author: Kenna Kendrick

Chapter I

Shana stepped back into the forest, her leather bag full of food and her hands braced to raise her bow and arrow again at the sight of anything suspicious. Or anything else suspicious. As if the sight of a handsome young man with a mysterious past appearing suddenly in the woods had not been suspicious enough. No one had noticed her at the village, grabbing as much food as she could find to bring to him, yet she could feel her heart beating in her throat as her boots crunched over the grass.

It was a strange thing to be bringing food to an unfamiliar young man who was not of her clan or her people. And yet, it had thrilled her with adventure. She would be the one to rescue this man from harm. Shana could hear doubts fluttering through her mind, pushing her to question her choices. She set her chin in defiance and narrowed her eyes as if planning to shoot the doubts down with her arrows.

Helping him had nothing to do with the fact that he was incredibly handsome, but more to do with the fact that he could be the way out of the forest, out of this life, and the way to help her find a new path in the world. She heard a stick crack, and she spun around, her arrow at the ready.

“Lass,” Logan whispered, moving out from behind the trees, and she lowered her weapon as she crept toward him, placing the bag in his hand. He took it with a smile and sat down as he burrowed into it. “Ye are an angel. A rescuer.”

Shana smirked. That was her title now; rescuer. She let the pride of it wash over her. In her time at the village, she had done nothing much except learn to farm, fight, and shoot her bow and arrow. But never had she ever been allowed to use any of her skills, except for the farming, of course. She frowned. How dull had her life really become?

“Sit, will ye nae?” Logan looked up at her, and for the first time, she could see that his eyes were green, the deep healthy green of a field of ready crops.

She suddenly felt a loss for words she had never felt before in her life. Boys had never done anything of that sort to her, but now with Logan’s green eyes on her, she suddenly felt her mind go blank. Instead of saying anything, she sat next to him, and her dark skirts flooded around her.

He grinned at her as he bit into his food, first choosing some dried meat and then bread and then fruit. She watched him eat with satisfaction, unable to take her eyes away from the sight. Now that she was closer to him, he really was quite beautiful, and she had gathered from books that handsome men were often dangerous to women. Even her mother and aunt would say that but would only laugh and never explain.

She wondered now if they hadn’t been right as she watched the smooth, tanned skin of his muscled throat as he swallowed and the way his arms bulged under his shirt where the sleeves had been rolled up.

For a second, she was curious if beautiful men were the cause of some sort of illness, for, with each passing moment, she was growing warmer and warmer. “Are ye dangerous, Logan?” she asked quickly and then immediately regretted her question.

Dangerous men would never admit they were dangerous. Just as murderers would never admit they were murderers. He still could be one.

Logan paused in his eating and swallowed. “I dinnae ken what ye mean, lass, but if ye mean to ye, then aye. If ye mean did I commit the crime I am runnin’ away from, then also aye. I am just a man who was wrongly accused.”

Shana pursed her lips in thought and narrowed her eyes at him. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hoping the strange dizzy feeling would go away. “Tell me then. Tell me what has happened to ye.”

Logan put down his food and glanced at her. He was quiet for a moment as if he was deciding whether or not she could handle the news. Shana kept his gaze. It was time for people to start taking her seriously. She was twenty years old, after all. Her father wished her to stay a little girl, but it was time he knew that she no longer wanted to.

She breathed out with relief that he thought her worthy as he began. “The laird of me clan had a second-in-command named Allan. He died at a feast we were havin’ at the McIntosh castle. It was a good celebration, and everyone went tae bed quite merry, but I decided tae stay awake longer. I had things tae think over.”

Shana could see the sudden change in his expression. He looked suddenly tired and weighed down, and guessing that he was still quite young in years, the expression seemed oddly placed.

He took a breath and stared off further into the woods. “I left tae get to the highest part of the castle for a wee moment, just to get some air. Ye see, me wife died a week afore we were tae get married. Smallpox. It was over a year ago now, but it still feels raw tae me.” He looked at Shana, who felt her heart patter with sympathy at the sight of his earnest eyes.

Poor man.

He looked away again. “On me way back tae me own room, I heard somethin’ strange. Like fallin’. So I went tae see what it was, and I found Allan in one of the hallways, bleedin’ on the ground, attemptin’ tae make sounds.”

Shana exhaled with a rush. “What did ye do?”

“I had tae help him. Allan was a good man.” Logan’s face tightened, and his muscular jaw clenched. “He had always been kind to me family. I didnae want tae lose him. But there was nothin’ I could do. I tried. I really did. But…”

His voice trailed off, and Shana had the urge to reach out and touch his shoulder, to run her fingers along his sleeve to comfort him. She had never seen a man so weighed down by life and the world. He took another breath and started again. “So, I spoke tae him for a wee while, about home. About the way the hills would look in the evenin’ sun and about his family. I had pulled him into me arms, and so the blood was everywhere. Seein’ the way he suffered, I couldnae take it anymore. I took out me dirk, and I…I finished what someone else had started. It was the best I could do to save him.”

Shana was silent. So he had killed the man, but he claims it as a mercy killing? Can this be true?

She watched him closely. He was certainly honest-looking – how he spoke and how his face revealed all of his emotions. But her mother had always taught her never to be beholden to a man. Never let them trick her into doing something or believing something until the facts and the evidence are there.

Shana remembered asking her mother, Rose, about her father, Sean, and how she would deal with him. Still, her mother had merely laughed and smiled and got that dreamy look in her eye she always had when her mother talked about her rather infamous father. Her aunt, Isabelle, was no help either, still entirely besotted with Uncle Eamon, even though she could hear each couple arguing loudly every so often. She and her cousin, Orla, would merely roll their eyes and think that it was just their parents who acted this way.

“I see,” she said, still trying to summon suspicion. “What happened after that?”

Logan was looking at her again. She wished he would stop that for his eyes were disconcerting. They made her feel strange in her head and in her stomach, and she felt like she needed a clear, strong mind to ferret out the truth. She did want to explore the world on her own soon, and she could not fall prey to the wiles of one handsome man just at the start of her journey. Then she knew what her parents said about her not being ready for the world would be true.

“Well, a servant came and saw us together. Once he saw me covered in blood, he didnae wait for an explanation, and he ran around the castle yellin’ that Allan was dead and blamin’ me as he did so. People came tae look upon the scene, but nae one would believe me. Nae even me own men would come tae me aid. I had tae escape. I escaped out the window afore me men captured me and surely tae take me tae trial.”

Shana nodded along. She waited until he breathed out, finishing his speech. “So what is yer plan, lad? Where will ye go? And, why are English soldiers after ye if it is a Scottish man ye are presumed tae have killed?”

Logan pushed aside a blade of grass, turning and twisting it with his fingertips. “Ye ken that after Culloden, the English are continually involved in Highland matters. Me Laird has ties tae the Crown as well as his second-in-command. The English general that controls the nearest fort often uses the second-in-command for messages and the like. He kens much information, and from what I can gather. I believe they think he may have been tortured by me tae get that information, and then I will run away with it. Perhaps even sell it tae the highest bidder? And so ye find me here. I am off tae meet with me cousin, Caitria MacNair, at MacNair Keep. I think she will have some solutions for me and she can give me shelter for as long as I need.”

Shana started to feel her heart beating again with excitement. “Where is MacNair Keep?” she asked, and he frowned in her direction.

“Why?”

“I wondered how long yer journey was. Ye will most likely need provisions?” In her heart, she was thinking more of how jealous she was that he would get to leave and go off on a wild adventure while she was stuck with the Scots in their hideaway village, seeing the same people and doing the same things every day. Would it never end?

Logan smiled, and Shana felt that annoying tingle again. His sadness had left him, and his smile was bright. “I willnae tell ye where the keep is, for I dinnae wish anyone tae follow me trail here and find someone who could give away any information. ‘Tis safer that ye dinnae ken. But ye are right. I will need provisions. If ye can provide me them.”

Shana nodded, and his smile widened even further. “Thank ye, lass. As I said, ye are an angel.” He leaned forward, and Shana thought for a moment that he was attempting to stand up. She tried to do the same but was blocked by his body, and instead, she fell backward, grasping at him for balance. He fell on top of her, and she found herself lying flat on her back on the soft forest floor. Both her hands grasped the back of his arms as she stared into his stark, green eyes.

“Och,” she said softly. There was that feeling again. That loss for words. That swirling, fuzzy brain sort of feeling that was so strange to her. Perhaps he really was evil. Logan just watched her for a moment and didn’t move. Shana’s mind was filled with too many sensations at once; it was sending her into a flurry of feeling. Her lips opened slightly to catch more breath, for him looking at her like that made her breath come fast and quick.

Under her fingertips, she could feel the long lines of muscle on his arms, and between her legs, could feel his heat pressed against her. Logan smiled. “Sorry, lass,” he said, pulling away. Shana blinked at him as she sat up with her elbows in the grass.

She felt a new loss that she couldn’t quite describe. Perhaps she could explain it to Orla later. “Och, ‘tis nae trouble.” She brushed off her skirts and avoided eye contact with him, fearful he might trap her with his eyes again, and she could feel the heat on her cheeks.

Bloody Hell. She was meant to be a warrior, not like Orla, who giggled and batted her eyelids at any handsome young man that came her way. That was not her at all.

“I had meant tae do this.” He reached forward and grabbed her hand lightly in his strong, rough one. He brought it to his lips, and Shana nearly let a gasp free as he placed a kiss upon it, keeping his eyes on her. “Thank ye for yer help.”

Shana could feel herself brushing a bright red, and she was willing him to let go of her hand as soon as possible. She didn’t feel strong enough to pull away.

When he did, he leaned back as if nothing strange had happened and asked, “So, tell me of ye, lass. Why are ye so good with a bow and arrow?”

He was grinning again. She could feel it in the air, even if she wasn’t looking up at him. She suddenly snapped, hopeful that she could remove his grin and thus regain some sort of equilibrium. “Is it so surprisin’, lad? That I should be quick with a weapon?”

She raised one eyebrow and looked in his direction. She suddenly felt guilty at the return of his earnest look again. Clearing her throat to avoid thinking about the guilt, she said, “Me Ma is a warrior, and so is me Da. We have all been taught tae fight. As I said, this is a sort of secret village. Everyone must prepare for any situation.”

He nodded. “I ken. ‘Tis a good idea.”

A silence fell between them. Even though Shana wanted to ask more about his future adventures and what he might do, she stood up, continuing to busy herself with brushing off her skirts. “I will go and prepare the provisions.”

Logan nodded and then stood up himself, handing her back her leather pouch. “I thank ye for the food. And the conversation. It does get a wee bit lonely out here, ye ken.”

“Aye, I ken it very well.” She smiled back at him and began to walk away. He called out after her.

“Lass, ye didnae tell me yer name. Am I nae tae ken the name of me angel? Me rescuer?”

Shana closed her eyes, hating how good it felt to be called thus and for a second time. To finally be of some use. And it didn’t hurt that it was a beautiful young man who had been close enough to kiss her who had called her that. She turned back. “ ‘Tis Shana.”

“Shana,” he said with a smile. The way he said it made tingles travel all over her skin. “Lovely.”

She nodded and then said, “I will be back tomorrow mornin’.”

“Until then.” After his last words, Shana left the woods, and she did not look back, fearful of what she might say or do if she did so.

Back in the village, as she strode through the main lane to her and Orla’s houses, she bumped into Orla carrying a bucket of water. Shana grinned. “Och, I see it has taken ye long enough at the well, Orla. Has Robert been there again, attemptin’ tae woo ye with his poor attempts at poetry?

Orla blushed and put the bucket down, using her apron to wipe her hair from her face. Her very dark hair was damp from sweat. “Nae at all, cousin. I would never do somethin’ like that. He may have been present, but I was only listenin’ with half an ear.”

Shana laughed. Orla was always trying to pretend that she did not love the attention and that she had a sort of affection for Robert herself. “Ye dinnae fool me, cousin.” She walked forward and grabbed the other end of the bucket. “Even though ye attempt tae lie tae me, I shall still help ye carry the water.”

“How kind of ye, Shana.” Orla rolled her eyes, and it made Shana giggle. They waddled together, holding the heavy bucket between them until they reached the outside of Orla’s hut. Her Aunt Isabelle was there, tall and beautiful, her long dark hair in a braid that fell down her shoulder.

“Shana,” she said with a smile, wiping her hands on her apron. “Where were you this morning? Off working on your archery, I hope?”

Shana nodded. “Aye. Ye ken that is what takes up most of me time.”

“That or the library.”

Smiling, Shana helped Orla pour the water into a clay jug on a low stone wall. “When will I get tae use me skills, Aunt? I think I have struck about every tree trunk, small animal, and apple in the whole of Scots’ Village. When will me Da think that I am old enough tae leave this place and find me own life?”

Her voice sounded a little whinier than she’d wanted it to. She also did not want to turn around and look at Orla, her cousin, and best friend. More like a sister. Shana didn’t want to leave Orla, but if she was to make her own way in the world, and Orla did not wish to go, then that would have to be the way of it.

Isabelle sighed and shielded her eyes from the bright sun as she looked into Shana’s face. “I think the time will be soon, my dear. Do not rush him, but it will be soon. You are a woman now, after all.” She grinned back at Orla.

Orla whined, “Then why do our da’s never think that we are? They still treat us like children.”

Isabelle laughed, loud and clear. “It is the way of fathers and daughters. Just the same with mothers and sons, I can assure you.” She squeezed Shana’s arm. “Now, your ma is looking for you. Go home and think about what I said.”

Shana nodded but felt morose. Waving to her aunt and cousin, she left for her own hut, a decision building in her mind.

 

Chapter II

Logan moved his knife over the stick in his hand, shucking off the bark with each quick movement and watching it fall in a curled shape into the grass. His back was positioned against a tree trunk, and he felt like he had never been more bored in his life.

While at the clan with his men and his family, he had been a warrior. He had been able to fight for his people, provide safety, complete missions and duties for his laird, and now he was here. Waiting for a young lass to bring him food so that he could continue on his journey while going nearly mad with boredom in the middle of a strange forest.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bark. He tried to put aside the rush of feelings that had come over him when he first spotted Shana. Her bow lifted up in the air, her eyes narrowed with focus, and her thumb touching her mouth.

That mouth. It was practically hypnotizing with its full, pink lips.  He predicted that she wasn’t much older than him, he being only twenty-three years of age. When she’d faced him, bow in hand and threatening his life, he’d almost laughed despite his desperate situation. Fiery was the way to describe her. Strong. Independent. But also innocent. It was a strange combination. He could see her youth and innocence in her eyes when he spoke of his past, and the way she had so heartily agreed to help him.

Strangely, she reminded him of Darla, who he had loved and lost before they’d had a chance to begin their lives together. She’d had dark hair, but her eyes had been light while Shana’s were impossibly dark. The pain of Darla’s loss was still real, but it was healing. That afternoon in the woods when Shana stepped into his view was the first time he’d looked at a woman with any other feeling besides friendship or indifference.

He wasn’t sure if he liked it and frowned as he continued to scrape and carve the wood, his little pile of curled wood shavings growing with each motion. He stopped for a moment and thought about his next moves. Would Caitria be able to help him as much as he hoped? Well, there was no one else.

She is me only family left.

Everyone had been taken from him over the years, and now the future looked bleak and lonely. It hadn’t looked so bad until he was found next to Allan, his very own dirk in Allan’s chest. Now, he had absolutely no one. Well, not no one. He had a fiery, brown-eyed lass who would surely shoot him as soon as look at him.

Did that count as someone?

***

The moon was bright that night, and Shana watched it through her window. She couldn’t sleep. The excitement of the day had been too much, and she couldn’t relax her mind enough to let it rest. She was thinking of Logan and what she wanted to ask him tomorrow once she brought him his supplies.

Taking a breath, she breathed out the words, “I want tae go with him.” There. She’d said it finally. The resolution had been knocking in her heart all day, and now it was out there, it felt good. It felt like she was finally free. She knew that her aunt and uncle nor her parents would ever agree to it, and so she had to take matters into her own hands.

Shana turned to the sound of footsteps, and she looked up to see Orla in her nightgown creeping towards her. Orla slid next to her on the bed and laid back with a smile. Since the houses were so close, the two girls often spent the night in each other’s homes, for they were continually surrounded by men, it seemed. The conversation about their hearts was their one solace.

“So, will ye tell me where ye were today?” Orla asked, putting her arms behind her head, bathed in moonlight.

Shana did the same, pulling away from the window. Orla always knew everything. “What makes ye think that I was somewhere? I told Aunt Isabelle that I was practicin’ me archery.”

Orla sighed. “I ken that ye were doin’ that. That is nae the part that I didnae believe. But I do think ye were leavin’ somethin’ out. When I saw ye earlier, ye were flushed, and yer eyes were bright as if ye’d just come back from somethin’ excitin’. Now, I say ye tell me what it is, or I shall have to tell yer ma and da that ye have a secret. Ye ken that yer da will nae let it rest.”

Shana groaned, and Orla giggled, shushing her. “Do ye want yer parents tae wake and hear yer secret? Tell me now!”

Shana sighed. “I met someone. In the woods.”

“Someone? Who?”

“I cannae say. I dinnae quite ken,” she lied. “But ‘tis a man.”

“A man?” Orla gasped and clutched onto Shana’s hand. “By God, if ye dinnae tell me everythin’ right now, then ye shall have Hell tae pay!”

Shana replied, “I was walkin’ on our path, and I found him there. He is hidin’. From somethin’. Ye must promise nae tae tell anyone about it!”

Orla tapped her heart. “I promise.”

“He needed food. I helped him. He will leave tomorrow once I bring him a bit more.”

“He is a man. A young man?”

Shana squirmed uncomfortably, not wanting to think about that pair of bright green eyes and long, reddish-brown hair. “Aye.”

“Just how young?” Orla’s voice held a joking tone, and Shana wanted to roll her eyes and be done with it.

“He is a little older than us, I would say. But nae by much.”

Orla grinned. Shana could sense it. “So, is he handsome?”

As quietly as she could, Shana groaned again. “Orla, ye ken that I dinnae like tae talk about idiot lads as much as ye do! They dinnae fill me mind so.”

“Och, but this one does. I can tell.” Orla poked Shana in the cheeks. “Even under the moonlight, ye are blushin’.”

Shana clutched Orla’s hand painfully until her cousin squealed and pulled away, scowling. “Fine,” Shana said. “He is handsome. Very handsome. But there is somethin’ else. Somethin’ I have decided.” Even though she was lying down, she still drew herself up a bit, hoping for some confidence. She wasn’t sure how Orla would react, knowing that her dear cousin and almost sister would be leaving her for who knew how long.

“What is it?” Orla turned to face her.

Shana took a long breath. “Orla. I have been wantin’ tae leave here for as long as I can remember. I cannae bear it anymore. The solitude. The nothin’ness. I want more.”

Orla nodded. “I ken it well. Ye were talkin’ tae me ma today about it. That also told me that somethin’ was wrong. Ye have nae talked about leavin’ for a little while. I thought that somethin’ else happened. I ken the feelin’, Shana. ‘Tis too isolated here.”

Shana nodded, and she was glad that Orla understood her feelings, but tears were still in her eyes. “Orla. I have tae go. And I have decided. When I bring the man his provisions tomorrow, I will ask him tae allow me tae go with him.”

“What? Are ye mad, Shana?” Orla’s eyes were wide, and the whites sparkled in the moonlight. “Ye dinnae even ken this man well at all. What if he is dangerous?”

He is dangerous. But in an entirely different way. I think.

“Orla, I ken. I have thought all about this since I spoke tae him earlier. This could be me only chance tae leave. Ye ken that me da will nae let me go until I am accompanied, most likely by a husband. I dinnae want that. I want tae go and see the world on me own.”

“Does the man even ken yet that ye want tae go with him? What if he doesnae let ye?”

Shana shook her head. “I will tell him tomorrow. And ye ken how persuasive I can be.” Shana tried to smile and push her cousin lovingly on the shoulder.

Orla frowned. “What about me? Ye will leave me here? What if I dinnae want this life?”

Orla’s voice was tremulous, and Shana’s heart nearly broke at the way she was hurting her cousin. “Ye could come too if ye like. We could explore the world taegether.”

Orla hesitated for a moment but then shook her head. “Nae, ye are stronger than me. Ye would do better than me out there in the world.”

Shana tried to smile again but found it even harder. “I will be back, ye ken. I would never choose tae leave ye forever. Ye must ken that.”

Orla nodded but looked unconvinced. “I think ye are right. Ye should go. Ye will never have peace or happiness until ye go. I will wait for ye here. Send word if ye can.”

Shana hugged Orla tightly. “Thank ye. In the mornin’, I will write a note, and I want ye tae wait tae give it tae the family until ye are certain that I have left and that there would be nae time enough for them tae come after me.”

Orla nodded again. “Ye promise, right? That ye will be back?

“I promise.” Sighing, Shana felt better and more at ease. She and Orla fell asleep, and Shana had a wonderful feeling that her life was just beginning.

***

The next morning, Logan woke up and rubbed the back of his neck. He was ready to sleep in a bed again. Normally when he traveled, he had all his provisions with him. But this time, he had nothing. And he wondered what Shana would bring him. His mood instantly lightened at the thought of seeing her once again.

It was a pity that they had to say goodbye, but that was life, was it not? A never-ending string of goodbyes? Groaning, he stood up and stretched, realizing that he needed a bath and a fresh set of clothes, but that would have to wait. His next stop would have to be at a secluded river where he could dunk himself into its cold depths and try to forget everything except getting to the keep.

He turned at the sound of crunching leaves and saw a smiling Shana walking towards him, her bow with her but this time not drawn. He smiled back at her like an idiot, but it had only been a natural reaction to seeing how bright and cheery she looked. As she stepped closer, he noticed a dimple in her right cheek. He shook his head.

Why am I noticin’ that?

“A good mornin’ tae ye, Logan.” She seemed a lot cheerier than the day before, and he found he was unable to react as quickly as he wanted. He was so surprised.

“And a good one tae ye, lass. Ye are lookin’ well.” He coughed and then said, “I mean well and happy.”

“So I am,” she said as she handed him the bag again as well as kept another bag for herself.

Shana’s eyes sparkle when she smiles. Damn. Why am I noticin’ things again? I am on the run! I have other things tae occupy me mind!

He took the bag from her and looked inside. “Lass,” he said as he looked up. “Ye have brought so much. How could ye afford tae do this? What generosity!” He grinned, and she looked almost a little bit proud as she stood in front of him her hands on her thin hips.

“Ye dinnae care to ask me why I am so happy?” Logan could feel his heart flutter at the freshness of the young beauty. Now that he was close and her face lifted in the sun, he could see freckles sprinkled lightly on the top of her cheeks.

Why had he not noticed it before when he had fallen over her, and her hands were touching his arms, their faces inches apart?

Och, that is right. Ye were more focused on her mouth and her eyes.

Logan groaned, and Shana jumped. “What is it?” she asked, her former bright expression switched to concern.

By God, I did that out loud.

Logan put out a hand. “Och, forgive me, lass. I was merely thinkin’ of somethin’. Go on then, tell me why ye are so happy.”

Shana’s eyes brightened, and despite their seemingly endless darkness, they sparkled. “I am happy because I had the most excellent idea.”

“And what is that?” He set the bag down and stood up again, crossing his arms.

“I had hoped that ye would let me go with ye.” She stood before him, grinning hopefully, and Logan frowned. There was no way he could risk his life, and the life of someone else’s by including Shana in his escape.

“Och, nae, I dinnae think that is a good idea, lass.”

Shana’s eyebrows knit together, and there was a slight crinkle in her forehead. “What do ye mean? Why nae?”

“Because I have tae run. I have dangerous people after me, ready tae take me tae the hangman’s noose. Why on earth should ye wish tae go with me?”

Shana stepped forward and gripped his arm. “Because I am stuck in this place, and I have nae other way of gettin’ out. I need tae leave. I have had me share of hidin’.”

Logan scoffed. “And ye think that comin’ with me will be the answer tae all yer problems? But where will ye go? What will ye do?”

Shana chewed on her lip, and he could see indecision mixed with desperation on her face. “I dinnae ken. But ye will give me a start. Once I see the outside world, I can choose next what is best for me. And I can fight. I have told ye already of me quickness with a bow. I will show ye if ye like.”

Before he could protest, Shana had her bow out and at the ready. She turned to the left and aimed at a hanging apple on a tree. The bow twanged, and the arrow shot straight through the apple, sending bits raining down onto the forest floor. It all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye.

Logan lifted an eyebrow and turned back to her. “That is impressive, lass, but ye dinnae seem tae understand the kind of danger that I am in. We are bein’ pursued by Her Majesty’s army. They will stop at nothin’ tae find me. What if ye become mixed up in their danger?”

Shana shook her head. “I will leave then. I just need ye tae help me a little. Teach me a few things about the world.”

Logan looked confused.

“I ken that it sounds strange, but I tell ye that I have never left this village in me twenty years.”

Twenty. So only a couple years younger than I.

His mind was wandering again, and he should focus. He could not possibly risk-taking Shana with him, but in some ways, he could feel something niggling in the back of his mind. Shana might be a very nice addition. He felt a kinship with her he hadn’t felt in a long time. And she was right. She could fight if necessary.

Logan watched her for a moment. Her eyes were wide, and she was waiting, hopeful. She was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in a very long while. “Fine. I am in agreement.” Even though he could see Shana’s worried face break out into a becoming smile, he wasn’t sure if he had just sealed his fate. And in more ways than one.

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Chapter I

“Please… please don’t kill me,” the Frenchman said.

She rolled her eyes, a leonine grin touching her lips. She took off her red and black tricorn cap and mopped her brow with her sleeve. The man was on his knees, his wrists and ankles shackled. He looked terrified as she stood over him.

“Why do you think I’d kill you?” she purred in his native tongue.

“Y – you are La Renarde de la Mer,” he stammered. “You do not take prisoners. This is known.”

She laughed as she shook her head and put her tricorn back on. The stories that went around about her and her crew were amusing. Her legend grew despite the fact that they had not actually done most of what they were known for. Oh, they’d had to commit many acts of violence before – that was part of the life. But they’d not done most of what they were accused of. It worked in her favor, so she was willing to let the stories spread and take on lives of their own. Ships she took were less likely to fight back when they believed they were facing a crew of bloodthirsty monsters wanting to do murder.

“If this is known, then why would you ask me not to kill you?” she asked.

Her crew laughed, one of them cuffing the French captain on the back of his head. A flash of anger touched his features but was quickly washed away by the tide of fear that gripped him. She held her sword up, the sun glinting off the thin, curved blade. The Frenchman’s eyes were wide, glued to the steel in her hand. With a small laugh, she slipped her blade back into its sheath on her hip.

Aileas, also known as the notorious Sea Fox – or La Renarde de la Mer, in French – turned her head and looked at the burning hulk of the French ship floating on the starboard side of her own ship, a fifty-foot tri-masted carrack called The Red Selkie. A thick column of black smoke rose to the heavens, and on the horizon, three small dots suddenly appeared. Ships. French navy. No doubt coming to aid the ship that floated along, engulfed in flames.

She turned to the captain and flashed him a vicious smile. “Just because I do not take prisoners does not mean I kill them either,” she said. “I’m a pirate. A businesswoman. Not a monster.”

The man’s eyes widened, blossoming with hope as her crew chuckled. She gave a nod to Dougal, her first mate, and a man from her native Scotland. He grinned wide.

“Over the side with this one, lads,” he bellowed.

As they unbounded the man, Aileas stepped to the rail of her ship and watched the sails on the horizon. They were definitely coming this way. She heard the Frenchman screaming behind her, followed by the splash of his body hitting the water. Her crew howled with laughter, hurling insults and pieces of garbage at the man. A small smile touched Aileas’s lips.

She turned around and walked to the steps that led her up to the rear deck and the ship’s wheel. Conscious of the three other ships on their way, she stood at the railing and started barking orders to her crew. They had pillaged the Frenchman’s ship, taking everything of value – and as a merchant, he’d had much of value – before putting it to the torch.

They usually didn’t destroy the ships they took. After all, having merchants sailing the seas was good for her. But the Frenchman’s crew had stupidly fought back and had bloodied one of her men. The ensuing fight had been fast and furiously messy. Most of the merchant’s crew had been killed, and those wise enough to surrender were now floating in the water with their captain.

The wind filled the red and black sails with a loud snap, and Aileas tilted her head back, savoring the feel of the wind in her hair and the sun on her skin. She loved being on the water. She loved the life she had built for herself out here, as far as she knew, the only female pirate captain on any sea, anywhere.

After she had fled from her home, Logan had taught her the ways of the sea. Though Logan was a legitimate merchant, he’d been a pirate when he was younger. One of the most notorious to ever sail the ocean blue to hear some tell it. When he started to get older and found a woman he wanted to settle with, he went straight. He even had a family.

He had been true to his word. He treated her like one of his own and raised her up. He taught her how to fight. He taught her how to run a ship, and more importantly, how to run a crew. He set her up so she could be a legitimate merchant – or a pirate. Aileas found the pirate life vastly more fun. So when Logan decided to hang it up and spend his remaining years with his family, he handed control of his ship – formerly the Iron Dragon – to her. Some of his crew, also getting on in years, had decided to leave the ship, opting to spend their lives – and the gold they’d taken over the years – on land.

The first thing Aileas had done was rename the ship, then had new sails made more befitting her style. After that, she’d found a crew. Some of the men aboard the Selkie were men she’d grown up with who opted to stay after Logan’s retirement. They knew and respected her already. But the newer crew members she took aboard, she’d had to break in since a female captain wasn’t something they were accustomed to. Some of them had to be taught a little respect.

But for the last few years, things had been smooth. Her crew had become her family. Her ship. Her hope. They were prosperous and feared. Aileas liked that. Although her life wasn’t what she had expected, her birthright stolen from her in a hail of blood and flame, she found that she couldn’t complain. She had a good life.

As the Selkie glided forward, Aileas stepped to the side railing and doffed her tricorn cap, and gave a bow to the men floating in the water.

“When those ships arrive to haul your miserable carcasses out of the water,” she called to them in French. “Please tell them La Renarde de la Mer sends her regards!”

* * *

They made berth in the harbor of Dernier Espoir – Last Hope – the city on the French shoreline they had called home since the days when Logan first took the pirate’s colors. It was a rough and tumble town filled with thieves and murderers, but it was also a place where the French authorities dare not step, which made it ideal for people like Aileas and her crew.

It had been home to Aileas since she was a girl, and so she was afforded a level of respect born of familiarity and the fact that Logan was essentially her da around there. Not many men challenged her, and when they did, she had always been more than happy to put them down. Her skill with a blade, though – and her willingness to use it – had earned her even more respect, acclaim… and fear.

The crew pulled their oars in and let the longboat glide to the dock that jutted out from the shore. The men jumped up and tied it off and helped her up the ladder. Once they were all standing on the dock, she gave them all a smile.

“Ye’ve done good work, lads,” she said. “Go and enjoy some of thae spoils, eh?”

The men cheered and clapped her on the shoulder as they headed for the taverns and brothels in town – of which, there were plenty of both. Aileas made her way to the inn where she laid her head down when they were ashore, the King’s Bollocks. Though the name was crude, the Bollocks had the softest beds in town, not to mention the best wine and food.

She stepped through the door and took a seat in the corner of the common room near the hearth. There was a chill in the air outside, and Aileas just wanted to relax by a fire and have a mug of wine. Aileas unbuckled her belt, took her sword off her hip, set it down on the table, and then settled into her seat. She caught the eyes of a few of the men seated in the common room. Strangers. No doubt wondering what a little slip of a girl like her was doing carrying a blade.

“Is there a problem here, eh?” she called.

The men quickly turned back to their drinks, and a stony silence descended over the common room. Slowly, the muted buzz of conversation picked up, but it was subdued, and everybody seemed to be making a pointed effort to avoid her gaze – and thus, avoid her wrath.

“Well, you’re in a foul mood tonight, aren’t you?”

Aileas smiled at the sound of her voice and turned her head to find Giselle gliding over to her table. She set the mug of warm, mulled wine down in front of her, and a pitcher of it down in the center of the table, and took a seat across from her. Aileas took hold of the mug, cupping it in both hands to leach the warmth from it, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I am glad to see you home safely,” Giselle said.

“I’m glad to be home safely,” Aileas replied.

“Was it dangerous?”

Aileas shrugged. “It had its moments.”

Even though she’d been speaking French for most of her life now, it still felt wrong in Aileas’ mouth. It was uncomfortable. Like a cloak that didn’t quite fit properly. It was true that she had spent most of her years in France, but she knew she would never be considered French herself. Still, there were a lot of worse places to be while away the time.

Giselle smiled at her, clearly wanting Aileas to regale her with tales of her adventures on the sea. She was the inn owner’s daughter, and they had become fast friends shortly after Aileas had taken up residence in the Bollocks. She knew Giselle harbored fantasies of becoming a pirate and sailing the open ocean, and she looked at Aileas as something of a hero and a role model, something Aileas had no desire to be.

Still, the two of them were thick as thieves. They had become great friends over the years, and in a world where Aileas trusted few people, the short, slim, curvy brunette was one of the very few. So she obliged the girl and told her of their voyage… the fights, and the dangers they had faced. She ended it with the story of her leaving the French captain in the water.

When she was done speaking, she took a long swallow of the mulled wine, which had cooled considerably as she’d been telling her tale. It was still good, though. Giselle’s face was bright, her smile wide, and she was quietly clapping her hands, thrilled with Aileas’ tale.

They talked a while longer before exhaustion finally started catching up to Aileas. As she got to her feet, Giselle’s eyes widened.

“Oh no, I almost forgot,” the girl said.

“Forgot what?”

Giselle held up a finger, then dashed behind the counter. She came back a few moments later, holding a sealed piece of parchment. Aileas took it and looked at the seal for a moment, not recognizing the sigil embedded in the red wax.

“Who left this?” Aileas asked.

Giselle shrugged. “I do not know. It was left here for you a couple of days ago,” she said. “The man who left it said to make sure it got into your hands the moment you returned. Said it was important.”

“But you did not recognize him?”

She shook her head. “His French was terrible. I had to get Alexandre to translate for me,” she said. “And he had a funny accent. It sounds like yours when you are not speaking French.”

That piece of information sent a bolt of lightning straight through Aileas’ body. A Scotsman here in France, leaving messages for her. She knew it could only be one person, since aside from Logan – whom Giselle would have known – there was only one person who knew where to find her.

“Dand,” she whispered.

Giselle looked at her curiously as she broke the seal on the letter. The missive was six words. Just six words. But those six words turned her entire world upside down.

It is time. Come home. ~ Dand

“Home,” she whispered to herself. “I’m goin’ home.”

Chapter II

Sowkirk, Scotland

The sky was overcast, and there was a chill as thick and heavy as the salt in the air. Luke stood on the far end of the dock, looking out to the sea. He loved the ocean. It held such beauty and mystery for him.

Luke knew he got his love of the sea from his father, who’d been a fisherman. Luke had only seen twelve summers, though when a storm blew through while his father was at sea, and the mighty ocean had claimed him. Still, despite the tragedy that had marked his life, he held a strong love for the water.

He looked around the harbor, silently naming the different vessels berthed there to himself. Luke thought that he’d like to board one of those ships and head out one day, riding the ocean, bound for distant lands. Most of them were familiar to him, merchants who regularly made berth in the harbor of Sowkirk.

One ship he had not seen before, though, caught his eye. It was a large, tri-masted carrack that was moored on the outside ring, standing alone. He could see the silhouettes of a few of the ship’s crewmen bustling about on the deck from where he was standing. What caught his eye were the sails. Though furled, he could see they were red and black. It was distinctive.

He stood at the end of the dock for a little while longer, just breathing the salty scent of the ocean and watching the unfamiliar carrack. Then with a smile, he turned and made his way to the harbor master’s office and leaned against the doorway, folding his arms over his chest, and looked in at the man.

Clovis Brun was perhaps the angriest man Luke had ever known. He was older, with a head full of stark white hair, a dark, craggy face, stooped shoulders, an ample belly, and a sharper tongue than any blade Luke currently had on his body. Clovis’s green eyes sparkled with intelligence and keen wit. He was never opposed to making somebody look plum foolish when the mood struck him.

“Aye? What dae ye want then, boy?” the old man snapped. “And wipe that bleedin’ smile off yer face. Tis nothin’ tae be smilin’ about ‘round here.”

Luke smiled wider. Despite his surliness, he liked old Clovis.

“I came tae ask about thae carrack with the red and black sails,” he said. “I’ve never seen it here before.”

“What business is it of yers then, eh?”

“Must we have this conversation every time I stop in, Clovis?” Luke replied. “Ye ken tis thae task me lord Fin has set to me. He wants me to keep abreast of thae ships and the crew who come intae Sowkirk.”

Clovis scoffed. “Yer lord wants ye out of his hair,” he cackled. “Tis why he sends ye down here. Ye dae ken that, eh?”

It was a thought Luke had more than a few times. He desperately wanted to be part of Fin’s personal guard – the Black Wolves, as they were called. He wanted to be a warrior. He wanted the respect and esteem that came with being one of a noble’s personal guard. Perhaps more than a life on the sea, he wanted to be known as a great warrior and friend to his lord.

But he had not yet been given a chance. Although he spent his mornings training in the warrior’s field, the rest of his days were spent at the harbor in Sowkirk, watching the ships sail in and out, ostensibly keeping an eye out for enemies. But it had not taken him long to figure out that it was a way for Baron Bagbie to get Luke out of his hair.

“Mebbe if ye dinnae pester him so much, he might nae send ye away,” Clovis continued, cackling the whole time.

“I daenae pester him,” Luke snapped.

“Lad, I been here longer than ye been alive,” he stated. “Believe me when I say that only lads who get tasked with dock duty are thae ones who pester thae baron.”

Luke frowned, feeling his mood darken. Deep down, he knew Clovis spoke the truth. And that didn’t improve his current disposition any. But Luke had always believed in putting himself out there. Believed that to achieve his goals, he had to make others remember his name. But listening to Clovis confirm the thoughts that floated through the back of his own mind made him see that perhaps, he should have found another way to make Baron Bagbie recall his name.

The good thing was, he still had time to correct his course. He was young, and he was hungry. He would do what was necessary to stand out from the other young men who vied for spots within the baron’s elite guard. That meant he needed to redouble his training. He would need to make a name for himself on the training court, not by constantly peppering the baron with questions.

The decision made, and his course set, Luke nodded to himself. He would make the baron stand up and take notice of him. He was already skilled with a blade in his hand, and he made a silent vow that before long, he would be the best in all of Cherrythorn Manor. There would be no way the baron could deny him for long.

“Are ye goin’ tae tell me about the carrack or not?” Luke pressed.

“Tis called thae Red Selkie; what else dae ye want to ken?”

“Where’s it from? Where is thae crew?”

“I daenae ken where thae crew is. A tavern or a brothel, I’d suspect. Seems tae be thae first thing sailors dae,” he grumped. “Nor can I say I ken where they’re from. I did hear ‘em speakin’ in French, though. Oh, and they’re led by a lass.”

Luke pondered it a moment, the name seeming to be strangely out of place. A French vessel named after a Scottish legend? He thought it over for a moment and wondered if he was making more of things than they actually warranted. Still, it struck him as odd and out of place. But perhaps, not as odd and out of place as a female captain. That was an oddity worth exploring.

“A female captain? Yer sure?”

“Aye,’ he said. “That sorta thing tends tae stand out.”

“And they spoke French?”

“Did I stutter, lad? Bleedin’ hell, I can see why thae baron sends ye away from him,” Clovis spat. “Now, unless ye got any more stupid questions, I got work I need tae be doin’, so run along now.”

Luke lingered in the doorway for a moment, glaring at the man. The one thing he disliked more than anything was being condescended to the way Clovis had just done. He did not like being spoken to as if he was a child. Technically, he was a soldier. He was one of the baron’s fighting men who would be called upon in a time of war. His aim was higher, and just because he had not attained his goal just yet, did not mean others had the right to sneer at him.

“Ye may not think much of me now, old man,” Luke growled. “But I look forward tae thae day I make ye eat yer bleedin’ words.”

Clovis looked at him for a long moment, and rather than a scowl, or a sharp word, Luke saw something different in his face. It was almost something akin to respect, though not quite there.

“I look forward tae thae day tae, lad,” he said, sincerity in his voice. But then a wicked grin curled the corners of his lips upward. “Until then, get yer bleedin’ arse outta me office.”

A smile crossed Luke’s face, and he laughed as he left the harbor master’s office. As he walked along the docks, though, his thoughts continued to return to the carrack. Clovis had heard them speaking French, which was interesting. It piqued his curiosity more than a little. He did not see many French merchants harboring at Sowkirk.

The town only had half a dozen taverns or so. If they had indeed gone to a tavern as Clovis had suggested, they should not be hard to find. He wanted to learn what they were up to and whether they posed any threat to his baron. He thought if they did, Baron Bagbie would be well pleased to be forewarned.

Luke set off into the town, looking for this mysterious crew who was led by a woman.

* * * * *

It took him three taverns before he found who he was looking for. The red and black tricorn hat that matched the carrack’s sails sitting on the table gave her away. As unobtrusively as he could, Luke walked in and took a seat near the table where she sat and cast a furtive glance at her. One of the tavern girls brought him over a clay mug filled with mead, and he took a deep drink of it, trying to look natural.

With hair the color of deep rust that was pulled back into a braid that hung over her shoulder, soft hazel eyes, a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and skin darkened by the sun, Luke thought the captain was striking. She was small and petite, though she had curves that he enjoyed looking at. In black woolen breeches, black boots that went up to the knee, a red tunic, and a black leather jerkin over that, she was a sight. She looked delicate, almost like a little girl dressed up in a fighting man’s gear. And yet, despite that appearance, Luke could see the hardness in her. The toughness she carried herself with.

Beneath her tunic, he could see the sway and ripple of corded muscles. There was a scar, just a thin white line, that ran from her chin and along her jawline. As he looked closer, he could see her knuckles and hands also bore a thin white web of scars he’d commonly seen on the hands of warriors. She had obviously seen her share of fighting and action.

The woman was young but had a practiced, casual air about her. And yet, at the same time, there was a tension in her frame as well. Her body seemed to crackle with the promise of violence. The woman had a whispered threat of it in her easy but deft movements. It was the same way he’d seen hardened warriors move. The way the baron’s Black Wolves moved.

Luke had no trouble believing the woman’s small, almost delicate frame, and that soft, comely face had led many a man to underestimate her. He also had no trouble believing those who did, were no longer of this world. It was in her eyes. Even from where he sat, he could see the hardness in them. They were eyes that had obviously seen much in what Luke guessed was not a very long life thus far.

“Is there somethin’ I can help ye with?”

It took a moment for Luke to realize the woman was looking at him square in the eyes and speaking to him. He gave himself a small shake and cleared his throat.

“Sorry?” he asked.

“I ask if there was somethin’ I can help ye with,” she snapped. “Ye’ve been eyeballin’ me since ye sat down.”

“I have not.”

She rolled her eyes, a small grin flickering across her full, red lips. “Aye. Ye have.”

“Me apologies then. I dinnae mean tae stare. I was just thinkin’ to meself.”

“Thinkin’ about me then?” she purred.

“No, of course nae.”

“Why not? Daenae ye find me attractive?”

“Well… no,” he stammered. She stared at him, one eyebrow raising as her lips curled upward in a smile. “I mean… yes. Of course. But that’s not what…”

She’s got me stammerin’ like a bleedin’ idiot. Get ahold of yerself already.

“I was nae lookin’ at ye, all right?” he finally managed. “I was just thinkin’. And nae about ye.”

“Ye’ve quite thae effect on thae lads,” a deep, rumbling voice sounded.

“Ye’ve no idea,” she replied, her voice low and smoky.

For the first time, Luke noticed the large, burly man sitting at the table with her. He was older than her, but not old enough to be her father. And yet, there were some resemblances between them, so Luke thought they could be kin.

As for the man, he was built like a tree – tall, wide, and stout. He wore doeskin breeches, boots, and a dark tunic belted at the waist. The man’s hair was dark, his eyes even darker, and his skin was tawny. A large, bushy beard covered most of his face, and he seemed to radiate menace from every pore. Luke was good in a fight and skilled with a blade, but he knew even he’d think twice about tangling with the man before him.

The walking tree turned his head to Luke. “Now why daenae ye be a good lad and mind yer own bleedin’ business?”

Luke frowned and felt the blood in his veins begin to boil, feeling like he was being called out. He cut a glance around the common room of the tavern and saw people turning their way, interest upon their faces. He felt his back stiffen, and as more eyes fell upon him, he felt the pressure to answer the large man’s challenge growing. Getting heavier and pressing down on him.

Of course, people want tae see some bloodshed—bleedin’ vultures.

Luke looked him in the eye, held his gaze firmly. “I was mindin’ me own bleedin’ business ‘til she said somethin’ tae me, friend.”

“I’m nae yer friend, lad,” he growled, his voice low and menacing.

“Fine. I daenae care,” Luck snapped. “I’m just tryin’ tae enjoy a drink and this fine hearth.”

“What’s your name?” the woman asked.

“Luke Addair,” he replied. “And yers?”

“Alice,” she said. “Alice Garnier.”

The burly man with her shot her a look but turned his gaze back to Luke again.

“Me name’s none of yer bleedin’ business,” he grumbled.

Luke shrugged. Frankly, he didn’t care what the man’s name was. He wasn’t what had captured Luke’s attention. That was Alice Garnier. He found that he was growing more curious about her.

“Tis unusual for a woman tae captain a ship,” Luke said.

She gave him a smile, which left him feeling somewhat unsettled. For some reason, this woman had a visceral impact on him. She put a flutter through his heart and stomach he couldn’t understand.

“Mebbe it shouldnae be,” she replied.

Luke shrugged and gave her a small smile. “Mebbe not.”

“I’d heard ye’ve got a French crew,” he said. “Seems unusual.”

“Lots of things seem tae be unusual tae ye,” she replied. “But tae answer yer question, good men tae crew a ship can be found anywhere… even in France. And tae enlighten ye further, I’ve got Scots and even an Irishman among me crew.”

Luke nodded, feeling the weight of her companion’s eyes on her. He didn’t think the big man was part of her crew, though. He couldn’t put his finger on why exactly, but Luke didn’t think he had the look of a sailor about him. Unlike her. She seemed made of ocean water and sea salt. She had the look of a woman who could be as soft and gentle as the sea on a calm, clear day, and at the time, as violent and brutal as an ocean storm. Luke found her more than a little intriguing.

“So what brings ye tae Sowkirk then?”

She shrugged languidly. “Just doin’ some business.”

“We daenae get many merchants from France ‘round here.”

“Then thae market should be fresh and unspoiled for me goods, eh?”

He grinned at that. “Aye. I suppose so,” he said. “And what kind of goods are ye bringin’ tae market then?”

“Ye sure dae got a lot of questions, daenae ye?” the man grumbled.

“Me ma always said havin’ a curious mind was a good thing,” Luke shot back.

“Tis a good way tae get yer gut opened up, and yer innards spilled out on thae floor here.”

The big man had his hand on the hilt of a dagger on his belt, his eyes narrowed, and jaw set. He looked at Luke with pure malice in his eyes. Luke was getting tired of the man and his not-so-veiled threats. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, his gaze fixed firmly to the big man’s. The air in the tavern suddenly crackled with tension, and all eyes turned to them, a breathless anticipation building.

The big man got to his feet, staring at Luke with baleful eyes. Alice sat back in her seat, an expression of amusement upon her face, a grin flickering across her lips. Luke could tell she was weighing him. Taking his measure. In that hazel-eyed gaze, he saw that she was trying to see what sort of a man he was.

And at that moment, Luke knew what sort of man he wanted to be. He wanted to be a man who did not back down from a challenge. A man who was not afraid to fight – and die – for what he believed was right. And he wanted those things mostly for himself, but partly because he knew, deep down in his bones, that was the sort of man Alice wanted.

“Mebbe we need tae step outside, so I daenae sully thae tavern floor with her blood,” the man growled.

Luke got to his feet and swept the cloak back from his shoulders, laying his hand casually on the pommel of his sword. It had been his father’s blade, the last piece of his da he had. It was a long, curved blade with a crossguard fashioned to resemble the tentacles of a sea beast, the pommel its head; two chips of ruby had been embedded to resemble the eyes.

The sword was light and graceful. Elegant. And Luke drew power and strength from it. His father had been a master swordsman. He could have been one of the old lord’s elite personal guards. But he had chosen a life upon the sea instead. While Luke wouldn’t follow his father in that regard, he trained relentlessly to be his equal with a blade in his hand.

“Aye. Mebbe we should,” Luke said, his voice cold.

The man’s lips curled upward in a grin. He turned to Alice and tipped her a wink, then erupted into laughter.

“I like this lad,” he said. “He’s got stones, he does. Stones thae size of boulders, I’d say.”

Alice smiled, and all around him, the common room burst into laughter, all of the tension that had saturated the air before, vanishing like a puff of smoke on a breeze. Luke stood there, blinking, swept away by waves of confusion. The big man walked over, and Luke tensed, but with a smile on his face, he clapped him on the shoulder, a wide smile on his face. It helped ease some of his tension, but he still watched the man warily.

“Ye’ve got stones, lad. I respect that,” the big man said. “I was just jestin’ with ye, lad. Ye can take yer hand off yer blade now.”

Luke slowly lowered his hand, still trying to figure out what was happening. He looked over to Alice, whose smile was enigmatic and captivating, and she beckoned to him. Clearing his throat and trying to wipe the dumbstruck look from his face, he picked up his mug of ale and walked over to her table, pulling a chair over, and sat down. The big man stood next to him, and Alice looked up at him.

“I’ll come see ye later, Dand,” she said. “We can finish our discussion then.”

The man raised an eyebrow at her, and Luke saw a sly grin on his face. He chuckled, his deep voice rumbling like thunder rolling in off the ocean.

“Aye. We’ll dae that,” he said and set one of his large, meaty hands on Luke’s shoulder. “Watch over this one. She’s me cousin, so daenae let anythin’ happen to her, eh?”

Inwardly, Luke felt a rush of relief upon hearing that Alice was his cousin, rather than his woman. It meant he had a chance after all. But he also felt like Alice was not simple prey to catch. In just the short time he’d known her, he knew she was different than any other woman Luke had ever known, and he found her intriguing and compelling in a hundred different ways.

“Aye,” Luke replied. “On me honor.”

“I think it more likely I’ll be thae one watchin’ over him,” Alice said.

The large man – Dand, he’d heard Alice call him – nodded. “Aye. Probably so,” he said. “I just dinnae want tae hurt his feelin’s.”

Alice laughed out loud, and not even Luke could keep the smile from curling his lips upward. Luke thought Dand seemed to be a man capable of great violence, and one who was good in a fight – depending on which side of the blade you were on. But he also thought he seemed like a man quick to laugh and jest. A man who seemed to enjoy himself and life. Luke liked that. It was confusing, but he liked it.

“I’ll see ye after,” Dand said.

“Aye. After.”

Luke watched the man walk away, still not entirely certain what was happening. When he turned to Alice, he found her watching him over the rim of her cup as she took a deep quaff of her ale.

“So,” she said as she set the cup back down. “Tell me yer story, Luke Addair.”

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