Chapter three snippet:

Ismay was shown to a table that only moments ago had been occupied by two rough-looking men. They hurried away from the table when the innkeeper told them to move.

The Highlander who gave his word to protect her didn’t sit with her at the table, nor did he allow any other man to sit with her or even approach her while she was served mutton stew that tasted like it came from heaven, and semi-stale black bread, with ale to wash it down.

There were no words to express how happy she was to be eating a warm meal at a table.

She was also thankful that no one approached her or asked to eat with her, not because they all appeared to be miscreants bent on trouble of one kind or another. Nae, she was thankful they didn’t approach her because then they might have asked her why she was weeping into her bowl. It was because, for this brief moment since her father died, she felt safe and cared for. She knew she was a fool. The Highlander didn’t vow his protection  and protection and feed her for nothing in return. At the moment, she didn’t care why he did it. She was overcome by the warmth flowing through her thanks to the kindness of one stranger. So she wept, unaware that all the ruffians lounging around the tavern were aware of her tears. A warning look from her benefactor kept them all from speaking a word to her.

She looked over at him, standing off alone, glancing at her every now and then. He wore a braided leather cord strapped across his body and supporting the sheathed sword at his back. A great plaid of red and dark green was draped over one shoulder and belted on his waist, where  three more knives were tied. Underneath, he wore an ivory-colored thin, woolen tunic. His wrists were tied in strips of leather almost to his elbows, where more daggers were stored. His legs were bare and crossed at his booted ankles where he stood leaning against the wall.

Beneath his woolen hood his chestnut hair was long, spreading over his shoulders and falling across his deep, burnished brown eyes. He reminded Ismay of a wild stallion, a dangerous and unpredictable beast. But presently, he was all she had. As flimsy a thread it was, she held on.

She smiled at him through her tears.

He looked away, but not immediately.

 Three times, one of the other men went to him to speak with him, or laugh with him.  She watched his reactions, noting first that he held no drink in his hand, nor did he break out in laughter with them. He was quiet, seemingly preferring to be alone.

 Seemingly-because she watched his gaze follow this one or that one as they returned to their seat. She caught the way his gaze softened on them, especially on a cherubic looking young man with a halo of golden curls framing his face, and a quiver full of bows slung across his back.

Her protector cared for the other Highlanders who’d arrived with him. But it was the barest glimpse of another side of him. She doubted anyone would see it if they didn’t look hard enough. Authority and confidence rolled off him in waves, along with a detached to-hell-with-the-world air.

But he had stepped in for her–and seemingly of his own accord–when no one else, save her father, ever had.

 In the course of eating and wiping her eyes, she learned the Highlander was Constantine Cameron of the famed Clan Cameron cattle raiders. And these men around him, no doubt, were the raiders.

Finally, when she pushed her bowl away and rubbed her belly in satisfaction, she opened her eyes and found Mr. Cameron standing over her.

She kept herself from trembling or gripping the armrests of her chair. She gave away no sign of the effect the sight of him had on her. He frightened her because he looked fast and fit. If she ran, she wouldn’t get far.

“Would ye like anythin’ else, lady?”

Lady. She hadn’t felt like one in so long. She blinked back a fresh mist assailing her eyes. He knew then, yet he went along with her when she denied being a lass. Aye, his dark eyes shone on her, peering deep within her.

She blinked away, not risking the chance of him seeing her crimes. “I could not eat another thing.”

“Then let me walk ye to yer room.”

She wished she could trust him. She looked at his outstretched hand. “I–”

“Come, then, lad.” His deep voice settled over her like a comforting blanket. She thought his  eyeshis eyes warmed on her the way they warmed on his men, but she was sleepy and wasn’t sure if she was dreaming.

She reached up and accepted his hand.

She tried to pay the innkeeper with her mother’s ring, but her benefactor wouldn’t allow the innkeeper to take it. She would have insisted, not wanting to be in any debt. But she was too exhausted, so she followed them up the stairs in silence.

The thought of sleeping in a bed made her sigh out loud three times before she even saw it.

“Look here,” her protector said, calling her to look at the door, or more specifically, the lock on the door. “Here is the key. It locks from the inside. Once ye lock it, no one can get in. That is, if they get past me.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. He didn’t mean to–

Men’s voices shouting threats and obscenities reached the upper landing and the innkeeper’s ears. “I’ll wager a free supper that ‘tis those two troublemaking brothers, Fionn most especially,” he said to Mr. Cameron. “I’ll whip their hides myself!”

Ismay watched the innkeeper storm out, leaving her alone with the handsome Highlander

“What I meant was,” he continued as if no interruption had occurred–at least not one he concerned himself with. “I’ll be right ootside the door.”

“What?” It took a moment to remember what they had been talking about. “What fer?”

“To protect ye, why else?” he demanded curiously while she yawned.

Ah, yes, he had promised to protect her. Had he meant all night?  “I still dinna know why ye would do that.”

“Why?” he repeated, eyes widening as if he could not believe she questioned him. “Why do ye ask that instead of thank the good Lord I was here tonight?”

“I already did that numerous times while you fed me, my lord.”

“Hmm, I see,” he said, sounding as if she had just blown all the wind out of his sails.

“I thanked Him, but I still dinna know why.”

He captured her and made her go still with a gaze. A gaze from some deep place where he was not all hard and detached as he appeared. “I know ye’re a–”

“Chief,” the innkeeper returned.

Chief? Ismay turned to cast her gaze on Mr. Constantine Cameron.

“Ye settled that swiftly, Lewis,” he said to the innkeeper, sounding a bit disappointed that the rumble was over before it started.

“I threw oot the whole lot of them,” Lewis told him. “‘Twas those four Anglos loiterin’ about who started it, but I’ll be lockin’ up fer the night, so I sent them all home.”

“I’ll be stayin’.”

Lewis stared at his chief after his declaration and then glanced at Ismay. The innkeeper didn’t also know she was a woman, did he? Did they know she was a lass? She was certain the–oh, she had to swallow back a miserable groan that her protector was a chief–that the chief knew she was a woman. She suspected it was what he had been about to confess before he was interrupted.

Now it made more sense why he would offer to protect and feed her. Of course he wanted something for it. They would be alone.

Well, he would have to kill her first.

She waited while Lewis and his chief shared a few more words, then crossed her arms over her chest when they were alone again. “Chief?”

He nodded, perhaps noticing the sting in her voice, for his eyes narrowed on her.

“I didna know ye were a chief.”

“Is that what angers ye? That I’m the Cameron chief?” He moved closer to her, making her heart thump loud in her ears. Just when she was about to back away, he handed her the key. She snatched it from his hand.

“I dinna trust men who hold power,” she told him, walking to the door.

 “That is why I got ye a room where the door locks from the inside.”

   She almost tripped over her feet.

“But ye trust me.” His voice was lush and hypnotic falling against her ears.

“I will know whether I do or I do no’ in the morning.”

He seemed satisfied with her reply and turned to leave the room.

“Mr. Cameron, even if ye prove to be trusted, I want nothing to ever do with ye after tonight.”

He nodded without hesitation–which hooked Ismay in the belly just a wee bit..

 She didn’t worry about how she felt. She was bone weary and almost forgot to lock the door. But she remembered, knowing he was out there.

She didn’t have much time to think about him because three breaths after she climbed into bed, she was asleep.

She must have indeed felt safe because she slept until morning and more soundly than she had since her father died. When she finally did wake up it was due to hunger. She wondered if it would be safe to venture down to the tavern alone? Was Mr. Cameron still outside her door? She washed up in a small basin and dressed in the clothes she’d arrived in.

Then she remembered that she had locked the door from the inside. No one could get in to bring her food.

When she stepped outside her door, she was mildly disappointed to find that Mr. Cameron was not there.

A wave of panic rose over her. Would she be attacked while she filled her belly? Fear made her hesitate, but hunger drove her onward.

When she reached the foot of the stairs and looked inside the tavern, she saw the Highlander sitting alone at one of the tables. Had he stayed here all night as he said he would? What would he want in return? She waited there four stairs up, watching him in the early morning light streaming through the windows. His skin was golden, tanned from spending time outdoors. He was the Cameron chief. Was the castle she’d seen his home? Was it true that theWhat kind of chief was also a cattle rustler?

She thought about hating him, as she hated all clan chiefs, but this one had gotten her a bed in a private room that locked from the inside. He’d paid for her supper and didn’t allow her to use her last trinket.

He was stunningly handsome in the filtered light, with smooth cheekbones and a sculpted yet gentle jawline. The slightest trace of melancholy shaped his lips. Natural waves and strands of his windblown hair framed his face and eclipsed his soulful eyes gaze while he stared longingly toward the window and the great Ben Nevis beyond. He appeared distracted and mayhap…agonized by what he saw in his thoughts, what they made him feel.

He had likely done terrible things and suffered the guilt of it all. Was she his atonement? Did he still do terrible things? She shivered as a chill crept down her spine.

He turned toward her, and for an instant his faraway gaze fell on her. She felt breathless, lightheaded, incredibly sad.

Then he saw her, and his expression went a bit tender, evoking romance and mystery and compelling her to take another step down the stairs, then another, moving toward him.

He rose from his chair–like a mountain rising with the morning sun, though he was crafted in lean sinew rather than overly bulky muscle. How heavy was the weight he carried on his wide shoulders?

“Lady,” he said, his voice sounding rough with the first word of the day. “Ye rested well?”

She nodded. He called her lady again. “I owe ye much fer keeping yer word and staying the night.”

“Ye must be hungry.” He reached a hand out to the chair beside him and dragged it out from under the table for her to sit.

She did and grabbed at the black bread on a plate close to him. She graced the male server with a smile when he brought her a cup of water. It was lukewarm but clean. She drank and then asked for more.

She felt the chief’s eyes on her. One would have to be an incoherent fool not to feel the power of his gaze.  But she was so thirsty for clean water, she could have drank four cups. And the bread. It was the same she’d had last eve; so good she’d dreamed of it.

“’TIt was two nights, lass.”

“Hmm?” She looked at him and stopped chewing. “Pardon?”

“Ye slept fer two days and two nights.”

What? What was he saying? He had not left her for over forty-eight hours?

“I wouldna have ye be confused aboot the days.”

She swallowed, still staring at him. “I havena slept soundly but with one eye open and one foot on the ground fer some time now. I think I made up fer it these last two days.” She smiled shyly before she realized what she was doing. When her blood warmed her veins at the way he was looking at her, she cleared her throat and darted her gaze to the door.

“No one will harm ye here,” he said in a deep voice coiled in restraint.

“Have ye been home?” she asked after a moment of silence between them.

“All the comforts of home are right here,” he said, turning his attention away from her to dig his spoon into his porridge when it arrived with hers.

He had stayed and hadn’t gone home for two days.

“Thank ye, Chief,” she allowed herself to say.

The faintest trace of a smile slipped across his features. She was glad he didn't smile more often. She would lose her senses too much.

“Now I am doubly curious why ye made such a promise to me.” She ate a spoonful of porridge and then ended up scraping the bowl when it was all gone.

Feeling his gaze on her again, she looked up to find him watching. Shamefully, she set the bowl down on the table. “Fergive me, it has been a long–”

“There is nothin’ to fergive,” he said and went back to eating.

That was it? He was not going to scold her for eating so much and so quickly?

When he remained quiet, giving his attention to his bowl, she drank more water and smiled. Just a little.

“Ye were about to tell me what is yer motive was fer guarding my door day and night for two days. What is it ye want from me? What do ye expect to gain, Chief?”

His expression darkened, frightening her for a moment. “I want ye to arrive safely at yer destination.”

“What else?”

His brow dipped low over his eyes. His decadent lips arched downward. “Nothin’ else.”

“Am I atonement fer yer sins?” she pressed gently. She didn’t want to push too much, but she wanted to know what he expected so she could refuse now.

Laughter bubbled upward and escaped him in a husky serenade that reverberated through Ismay’s defenses and shook the walls. And while they were battering through, he grew serious again and asked, “From whom are ye runnin’, lass?”

She breathed and set her cup on the table. “My  stepmother and the man she intends fer me to marry.”

“Why do ye run away?” he asked, appearing unfazed by her confession. But–

Did she note a thread of compassion in him? Or was she so desperate to hear it that she imagined it?

“The man I am to marry is a cruel man. Cruel men are capable of many things. I would rather be dead than tied to a heartless husband.”

He said nothing while they sat together in the empty tavern–with the innkeeper, Lewis Cameron wondering about.

“Is he the reason ye hate chiefs?” the chief asked, wiping his mouth with his serviette and leaning back in his chair.

Ismay watched as if the passage of time slowed while the cloth rubbed across his full lips. Her heart thumped loud in her ears. She swallowed, filling herself with the sound of her throat convulsing while she swallowed.

“No, I hated them long before him.”

Again, he said nothing. Being caught staring didn’t seem to bother him. It made Ismay feel awkward and she looked away.

“I dinna wish to speak of it anymore,” she let him know.

“As ye wish,” he answered kindly, quietly. Then, “Would ye like some chicken?”

Her eyes widened on him. Chicken? “Aye! I would love some chicken!”

Well, if he was trying to win her loyalties over to hshis side, food was the way to do it.

“Do ye think ‘tis our destiny to be together?” she asked him while they waited for their chicken.

“We are no’ together,” he corrected her. “I dinna even know yer name.”

“Ye willna tell the others about me being a lass, will ye?” she breathed, feeling like a young girl sharing secrets with her closest friend. “Can I trust ye no’ to tell them?”

He gave her an impatient look and nodded.

“I am called Ismay.”