Chapter 10

Hugo had the kind of smile on his face that begged for a punch.

“Dinnae say a single word,” Domnhall warned him, but even before Hugo had opened his mouth, he had known it was a losing battle. Of course, Hugo would comment on what had just happened. Of course, he wouldn’t give Domnhall the simple mercy of letting it go.

“Ye’ll make a very good wife,” Hugo said in a ridiculous approximation of Domnhall’s accent. The corners of his lips shook with the effort it took him not to smile. “I was under the impression you were trying to scare her away. Were you not the one who, only a few hours ago, said she was your enemy?”

Domnhall had indeed said that, and more. He hadn’t changed his mind, though, no matter what Hugo seemed to think. After everything that had happened between him and Billie, he still considered her his enemy. She was nothing but antagonizing, trying to anger him at every opportunity.

Then again, so was he.

“I was simply tryin’ tae be polite,” he mumbled, the lie audible even to his own ears. “It didnae mean anythin’.”

“Why would you be polite to her of she’s your enemy?” Hugo asked. He was prepared to pick apart any argument Domnhall provided, he knew, if it meant he could tease him. “You can admit it to me. I’m your friend.”

“Admit what?”

“That you like her.”

Domnhall’s gaze snapped to Hugo, but when he looked at him, his smile wasn’t a teasing one. He seemed almost pleased, satisfied by what he thought he could see in Domnhall.

“I dinnae like her,” Domnhall insisted and this time, he managed to summon all the conviction he needed to sound certain of it. There was nothing to like about Billie. It was true that she was beautiful, but Domnhall had met beautiful women in the past. Her full lips and shimmering grey eyes did nothing to distract from how terrible her personality was, how eagerly she had tried to trick him, how easily she had threatened him. She was the devil in disguise, and Domnhall wasn’t going to fall for her charms.

“If ye didn’t like her, ye wouldn’t have forced me to eat this,” Hugo pointed out as he looked at the almost full bowl in front of him with disgust. “Nor would you have eaten so much of it.”

Domnhall looked at his own bowl, which was still mostly full, but not as full as Hugo’s. He had done his best to eat as much of it as he could stomach, at least until Billie had left the room, before finally giving up.

“As I said, I was tryin’ tae be polite.” Domnhall took the two bowls, eager to have something to do with his hands, but then he just dropped them onto the table once more. He didn’t know his way around this kitchen—or any kitchen, really. He remembered how Billie had flitted around the place only moments prior, cleaning up everything so the servants wouldn’t be burdened by the mess, and his insistence that he felt nothing for her grew even weaker.

He had to do something about this before he completely spiraled out of control. All he had to do was prove to himself that Billie was precisely the kind of person he thought she was and everything else was simply a way to blind everyone so they would not see her true character. If he managed to scare her off in the process, it would be all the better.

“Makin’ her ride a horse, makin’ her cook… these are foolish things,” Domnhall said. “I need tae think o’ somethin’ better.”

“Or you could simply stop,” Hugo said, as if that was an option at all by that point. “You won’t win any of her favor if you insist on toying with her.”

Domnhall pushed Hugo out of the kitchen. The servants would need to prepare food soon, and Domnhall didn’t want him and Hugo to be in their way. Besides, he thought a training session might do him some good, allowing him to get rid of some of his frustration.

“Or I could target what will reap me the most benefits,” Domnhall said as the two of them walked through the castle. Despite Billie’s eagerness to follow him to his room that night, despite the flirting with his guard, there was still a part of her that clung onto an inexplicable innocence. It was easy to embarrass her, to tease her to the point of flushed cheeks and frustration, and Domnhall doubted she was so good at pretending, that it was all a performance. At least some of it had to be real. At least some of it had to be a remnant of a modesty she had long lost. It was that modesty he had to target if he wanted any real results.

Hugo didn’t seem so convinced of the plan anymore, even if he had been the one to suggest it in the first place. Domnhall had already made his decision, though. Now it was only a matter of putting the new part of the plan in motion.

After Domnhall’s strange request the previous day, Billie hadn’t encountered him again around the castle. On the one hand, it was a blessing. She had no desire to see him or have to pretend, putting on a polite fa?ade for everyone else’s sake. On the other hand, she had to seek him out now, despite her reluctance to see him.

It didn’t take her long to locate him, one of the guards telling her he was in his chambers. Billie knocked on the door, waiting for Domnhall to invite her in and only stepping inside when she heard his voice call from the other side of the door. Still, she froze when she entered and saw him change out of his practice clothes, his torso entirely nude.

“Ye couldnae have told me tae wait?” she asked with a roll of her eyes. Even if her face was burning, it was better to focus on her irritation rather than her embarrassment.

“What would be the point?” Domnhall asked, making no effort to hurry as he put on another shirt. “We’ve done much more than this.”

The last thing Billie needed was a reminder of that night. She pursed her lips for a moment, holding back the flood of curses that rose up her throat, and only when she was certain the conversation wouldn’t devolve into a fight, did she speak again.

“I’ve come tae ask fer yer permission tae go tae the town,” she said. “Me sister an’ I wish tae see it.”

It would do her some good, she thought, to get out of the castle for a day. Elsea had been the one to suggest it, as she needed to go for supplies, asking the two girls if they wanted to join her. A day away from Domnhall was a day well spent in Billie’s mind.

She didn’t really expect Domnhall to give her permission. He seemed to be paranoid about her safety, assigning several guards to watch her even around the castle, but she was pleasantly surprised when he nodded.

“Ye can go,” he said. “But I will send some guards with ye.”

Billie didn’t know what it was that he feared so much, but she didn’t dare argue in case he decided it would be better to keep her in the castle. It was exhausting, being watched all day, every day, but she didn’t mind the guards so much. All of them were distantly kind to her, nice enough but also unobtrusive, only talking to her when they had to.

“Thank ye,” Billie said, managing a small smile. Then, she quickly took her leave. It was always a mistake, lingering too long near Domnhall. She never knew when he would try to toy with her or when he would decide her threat didn’t matter after all.

She went to her chambers instead and prepared for the short trip to the town. By the time she was done, Abigail, Elsea, and the guards were all ready as well, and they quickly left the castle in a carriage. It was still early in the morning, the sun shining through the white clouds above, the breeze cool but not uncomfortably so. It was a lovely day, and Billie was glad to be out of the castle for it, eager to see what the town had to offer.

By the time they made it there, the narrow streets were filled with people. Children played among the crowd, the air filled with their laughter and the voices of market sellers as they tried to entice customers to their stalls. The town wasn’t very big, but it was densely populated, and all its residents seemed to be out that morning, rushing back and forth in a flurry of activity.

Billie and Abigail exchanged an excited glance, both of them grinning as they walked side by side. They followed Elsea as she wove her way through the crowd, stopping every now and again to speak to someone or look at the goods offered at the stalls. The guards followed close behind, six of them this time, watching their every move.

Billie didn’t know if they expected someone to attack or for her to run. Either way, it seemed foolish to have so much protection. If anything, it only made them more of a target, not allowing them to blend into the crowd.

“There are so many people here,” Abigail said, undoubtedly staring at all the handsome young men who smiled at them as they walked past, pleased with what she saw. “Our town isnae as big back home.”

“Perhaps it’s because ye ken everyone back home,” Billie pointed out. The town wasn’t that much bigger than their own, but the new faces made it seem so. Billie couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take for them to become as familiar as her own people, their faces and names etched into her memory.

As they passed a stall selling lace and ribbons, Abigail giggled sweetly, and Billie turned to look at the boy behind the cart, grinning at her sister. With a sigh, Billie dragged her away, rolling her eyes fondly at her.

No matter where they were, Abigail seemed eager to get in trouble.

As the others roamed the street, Billie lingered by a cart that sold fragrant pastes in jars. She picked one up to smell its contents, its sweet scent wafting up around her. Just as she was about to look for the merchant to ask him what he was selling, a little boy jumped off the cart, landing on his knees in the dirt.

The boy’s parents didn’t seem to be around, and so Billie helped him up and dusted him off, crouching down in front of him. The scrapes on his knees were little more than skin-deep, but she had seen the damage even a shallow wound could do.

“Ye should be more careful, laddie,” she told him as she reached up to ruffle his red curls. “Where’s yer maither?”

“Home,” the boy said. Though he wasn’t crying, his big, blue eyes shone with tears. He was trying hard to hold them back, Billie knew. “It hurts.”

“Ach, I’ll make it go away,” Billie promised him. She stood to her full height and looked through the cart’s goods, picking up a jar that smelled just like an ointment she made for surface wounds. Looking through her pouch, she left the merchant more gold than the paste was probably worth and put some of it on the boy’s knees, wincing in sympathy when he tried to pull back from her in pain. “What’s yer name?”

“Callum,” the boy said. “Callum McLean.”

It didn’t take her long to calm the child, and by the time she was done, his hand in hers as she took him home, he was smiling brightly at her, telling her all about the kitten he had found, as ginger as he was.

“Maither said I can keep him,” Callum said just as they reached his house. “But only if I take good care o’ him.”

When the boy’s mother spotted them through the window, she rushed outside, taking a good look at them both.

“Callum hurt his knees at the market,” Billie explained as she handed the jar of ointment to the woman. “I thought I would bring him back home an’ give ye this. It’s good fer wounds.”

Puzzled, the woman took the ointment. “Thank ye,” she said, and it took Billie a few moments to realize how confused the woman must be by her presence.

“I’m a healer,” she explained, deciding to claim the title as her own this time. “I happened tae be near when he fell.”

The woman nodded in understanding, her smile instantly widening. “Well, come in,” she said brightly. In the sun, her eyes were the same shade as her son’s. “Come, come… I must thank ye properly.”

“It’s alright,” Billie assured her, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m afraid I must go before I lose me company. Be careful now, Callum. Dinnae make yer maither fash.”

Billie left in a chorus of thank yous, her chest warm at the thought that she could be of use, that she could help someone in need. That was why she liked healing so much: to see how people’s faces brightened when the pain was gone or when their loved one was safe.

Satisfied, Billie made her way back to the market to track down Abigail and Elsea once more. As she walked, though, a strange figure caught her eye—a man dressed in black, standing close to a villager and speaking rapidly to him.

Could this be one o’ those men everyone in the castle is discussin’?

It sounded more likely than Billie would have liked, and her concern solidified when she approached and heard what the man was saying.

“Dae ye have concerns about the new laird?” he asked the other man, who looked as though he wished to be anywhere but where he was, backed against a wall, forced to give an answer. “Surely, the taxes must be higher now that he needed tae rebuild so much o’ the clan.”

Jaw setting, Billie looked around for any man who was dressed in black and seemed just as suspicious. When her gaze landed on one of them as he tried to stop passersby, she walked right up to him.