Chapter Two

June, 1317

Six months later

Berwick, Northern England

Despite the early summer sun warming her hair, Lillian felt a chill of warning snake down her spine.

She stood in Berwick’s town square, which bustled with merchant shops and carts selling their wares. Market day meant the square was crowded with villagers browsing, haggling, and exchanging coin for goods, yet Lillian had the sudden impression of being alone.

Alone and watched.

She glanced over her shoulder, but all she saw was a sea of faces going about their business.

“Well? Do you want these spring peas or not, madam?”

Lillian turned back to the farmer she’d been bartering with. He shook a handful of the peas at her, lifting his eyebrows impatiently.

“Aye, aye,” she said, hurriedly producing a coin from the pouch hanging around her waist.

She tucked the peas into the basket looped on her arm, then made her way toward a different cart. Mayhap the feeling of being watched was only her imagination. Mayhap it was the fact that she wore the widow’s weeds. Most of the other villagers were dressed in an array of greens, browns, and even a few blues and yellows, simple homespun wool, aye, but far more cheery than her black garb.

Still, as she completed another transaction with a woman selling eggs, she again felt an itch between her shoulder blades as if she were being watched. Or followed.

Impulsively, she darted between two carts and into a narrow alleyway between the three-storey buildings lining the square. She paused halfway down the alley, glancing over her shoulder once more.

When she saw naught in the alley’s slim opening but the steady flow of villagers moving around the market, she chided herself for being so foolish. Ever since Richard’s death a month past, loneliness had settled over her like a thick shawl. Mayhap it was addling her thoughts. She needed to—

Just then, a cloaked figure darkened the entrance to the alley. With his hood pulled low over his head, she could not make out his face, but the sudden spike of fear in the pit of her stomach told her he was not a friend.

Spotting her, the man began to slowly stalk down the alley.

Lillian turned away swiftly, continuing farther down the narrow path. Behind her, she could hear the man’s boots clicking against the cobblestones. He was drawing nearer.

She quickened her pace, yet he continued to close in on her. Panic rising in her throat, she darted down another alley that branched to the right. This path was even narrower than the first, and dimmer. Though the sun had been shining cheerily in the market square, the wooden buildings overhanging the alley made it as gloomy as twilight.

Lillian dared a look behind her to see if the cloaked man had followed. Heart hammering against her ribs, she held her breath, praying that it had all been her imagination.

When the man loomed in the second alley’s entrance, she knew without a doubt that she was in danger. She broke into a run, her basket scraping against the buildings as she fled. Her skirts tangled around her legs, so she lifted them free with one hand, pushing herself to sprint faster.

Even as she strained her legs to their limit, the man’s boots rang louder against the stones behind her. He was closing in on her—fast.

Ahead, another alley branched away, leading to a different part of the mazelike town of Berwick. If she could get out of sight from the man pursuing her, mayhap she could hide or—

With no time to form a plan, she turned left and flung herself down the dark pathway, praying for an open door or a clear route back to the safety of the crowded marketplace.

All she saw was yet another shadowed, winding back street. She could hear her pursuer slowing in the other alley, preparing to make the same sharp turn that she had.

Suddenly a door off to her right burst open. A tall, broad-shouldered man filled the narrow doorway. He lunged for her.

Before she could scream, the man clamped a hand over her mouth. His other hand snaked around her waist. He lifted her clear off her feet and jerked her back through the door he’d emerged from, closing it silently behind him.

His hand still covering her mouth, he set her on her feet in the cramped passageway between the door to the alley and the rest of the building. The man turned her around so that his gaze met hers.

“Dinnae fight me. I am a friend.” he said, so softly that she barely heard him.

Lillian felt her eyes go round. He was a Scot, judging by his accent. It wasn’t rare to hear a Scottish lilt here in Berwick. After all, the city had changed hands several times—thrice in her lifetime alone. They were either just on the Scottish side of the border, or just on the English side, depending on who and when you asked.

But what could a Scot possibly want with her? Was this man in league with the cloaked figure chasing her ?

As her thoughts raced, she heard her pursuer’s footsteps draw close. They were so loud that they seemed to hammer inside her very skull.

But then miraculously, the footsteps drew past them, echoing more distantly as the man continued farther down the alleyway.

“I am a friend,” the man before her repeated. “I was sent to help ye—and keep men like that from finding ye. Will ye keep quiet if I remove my hand?”

Wide-eyed, she nodded silently.

Slowly, he withdrew his hand from her mouth.

“Wh-who…who are you?” she whispered.

“My name is Will Sinclair, but that willnae mean aught to ye. I’ll explain everything shortly. For now, we need to get out of here.”

Just then, she heard steps echoing in the alley beyond the door once more, but this time they were slower, more measured. No doubt the man chasing her had realized he’d been duped. He must have returned to retrace his steps and look for the nook or cranny where she’d slipped away.

She could either trust this strange Scot—Will Sinclair—standing before her, or try her luck with the cloaked man who’d chased her.

“Aye,” she said with a swift nod, making her decision. “But how?”

“First, put this on.” Will yanked off his cloak, which was a nondescript brown wool, and draped it over her shoulders to cover her black garb. “Now follow me. Keep yer head lowered and stay close.”

She nodded again, her throat too tight to speak.

He gave her shoulder a quick, kindly squeeze. “It will be all right. I promise. I’ll protect ye.”

Strangely, the words reassured her.

As he slipped through the dim hallway toward the front of the building, she hurried to keep up with him. When they reached the empty structure’s front door, she was suddenly thrust back into the blinding light of the cheery summer sun.

Will companionably looped her arm in his, then strolled into the flow of villagers moving to and from the square not far away. They merged with the crowd, and she let Will guide her farther and farther away from the alley where the cloaked man still searched for her.