Chapter 3

“Come, Abigail!”

Billie kept her voice hushed as she pulled her sister along, the two of them running through the small streets in the little town where they were staying for the night. They girls, along with half a dozen guards, had begun the journey to the MacAuley Castle a week prior, and this was her last night as a free woman. The following morning, she would appear before the laird and she would be a betrothed woman, unable to do anything without her husband’s consent.

She was determined to make the most out of her last night, despite Abigail’s doubts. Her sister thought her too meek, too shy to even speak to a man, but Billie’s goal for the night was not only to speak to one, but to kiss one.

She had never had a kiss before, always concentrating too much on her studies and her books. Unlike Abigail, she also lacked the kind of boldness required to make the first move, and naturally, everyone in the castle who would be suitable for such an adventure avoided her, too fearful of her father’s wrath. She never had had her way with them like Abigail did for she could never make the first move.

No one knew who she was here, though. Billie had intentionally worn one of her least impressive dresses that night, before sneaking out of her chambers and pulling Abigail along, so that no one would suspect who she was. Sure, she still looked noble born, but she doubted anyone would know exactly who she was and to whom she was supposed to be betrothed.

The first step had already been made; she and Abigail were out of the inn where they were staying for the night, and past the guards who were supposed to be keeping an eye on the two of them at all times. Thankfully, they had all been exhausted by a week of travel and sleeping for only a few hours every night, and even the three who were supposed to be keeping watch had eventually fallen asleep, lulled into a false sense of security by the fact that Billie had never really been that adventurous. No one expected her to sneak out of the inn. No one expected her to do something she wasn’t supposed to.

That was what made it so exhilarating, she thought, as the two of them found the tavern. Even from a few steps away, Billie could already hear the sounds of a cheerful crowd, their tongues loosened by ale, and she grinned at her sister. When their gazes met, though, she saw apprehension in Abigail’s eyes.

“Are ye certain ye wish tae dae this?” Abigail asked, her concern palpable. “We dinnae ken who these people are in there. They could be anyone.”

“I ken,” Billie said. “An’ that is why I wish tae go. If they kent who I am, they would never approach me, would they?”

Billie made for the door, but Abigail pulled her back, stopping her once more. “Are ye certain ye want this, sister? Ye have never even kissed a man! What if he’s dangerous?”

Billie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. As far as she was concerned, this was the entire point of sneaking out of the inn and finding someone with whom she could do something reckless.

“This is me last night as a free woman,” Billie reminded her. “An’ I ken I have never been with a lad, so I wish tae try. On the morrow, I will meet me new husband an’ we both ken he is older an’... an’ I probably willnae like him. So please, Abigail… let me have this.”

Her father had made sure to mention Laird MacAulay’s age, telling her that he was in his mid-thirties, fourteen whole years older than Billie. Though it didn’t stop her from her plans, it made her a little more hesitant and a little more eager to experience at least one kiss with someone to whom she would be attracted.

Abigail hesitated for a moment, but then nodded firmly, even giving Billie a gentle push towards the tavern. “Very well. Ye ken what I think… ye should kiss as many lads as ye can, because if ye dinnae, ye’ll regret it once ye lose yer chance. Just promise me that ye’ll be careful an’ that ye’ll call fer me if ye need me.”

“I promise,” Billie said, though she couldn’t help but think her sister was too cautious. It was only one night and she was a grown woman. She could take care of herself, even if she wasn’t nearly as experienced as Abigail. “If I need ye, I will call fer ye.”

Once Abigail was satisfied that Billie was telling her the truth, the two of them made their way inside the tavern. Billie had been in one such establishment before, but the previous time, she had had her father and guards with her, watching her every move. Now, she and Abigail were alone, with no one to dictate what they could and couldn’t do.

The tavern was dimly lit and crowded, the majority of the patrons men. They were rowdy, most of them surely several drinks in already, though the night was still young, and Billie’s gaze searched the room for anyone who could be suitable enough for her. Many of the men there were older, but a few seemed closer to her age.

She couldn’t be too picky, she knew. After all, there was no reason to be picky when all she would do was steal a kiss from one of them. All she wanted was someone appropriately young, acceptably handsome, and whose breath didn’t smell too much like ale.

“Sit,” Abigail urged her, pressing her down onto a chair with a hand on her shoulder. “I must relieve meself. I’ll be right back.”

Billie did as she was told, taking a seat and frowning at the way the table stuck to her hands, its surface coated with all manner of things she didn’t want to identify. She wiped her hands on her dress and looked around once more, keeping herself as distracted as she could from the fear that she and Abigail would soon be found out, the guards rushing after them to drag them back to the inn.

The minutes flowed by and though it hadn’t been too long since Abigail had gone away, Billie was starting to get restless. She bounced her leg on the floor, anxiously looking around for any sign of her sister, but she found none. In the end, she decided it was best to go look for her, so that they could be together at all times. It wasn’t as safe, each of them being alone.

Leaving the cup that the serving wench had brought her, Billie headed outside and around the small building. Instead of finding Abigail, though, she found two men, both of them bloody and bruised. One of them, the taller one, was holding the other by his collar, the fabric bunched up in his hand as his fist came down to his face twice. His hands became even bloodier from what Billie assumed was breaking the man’s nose.

“I told ye, I willnae come back here again,” the one said, his voice slurring and pleading as he tried to shield his face from the next blow.

But the blow never came. The second the other man let him go, he ran away from him and the tavern as fast as his legs would carry him, stumbling in the dark, terrified the other would do more damage if he stayed.

Billie was frozen. She knew it would be wise to run back to the tavern, where the crowd would keep her safe, but she couldn’t move a single muscle, her limbs having turned to lead. After a few moments of watching the fleeing man, the other man turned around to head back to the tavern, but stopped when he saw Billie standing there.

Even in the dark, she could tell he was handsome. There was nothing but a few torches lighting the outside of the establishment, but Billie could see his long, dark hair flowing around his face like a mane, the blue eyes glinting in the orange light.

“What are ye doin’ here?” the man asked, as he came closer to Billie, his gaze scrutinizing. “A bonnie lass like yerself shouldnae be alone out here.”

In the cool night air, Billie’s cheeks heated with the compliment. No man had ever paid her so much direct attention before, looking at her as if she were something to be desired, something he wanted to take. As the man came closer and closer, Billie could see a few fine lines around his eyes, the sharp, defined features with no lingering baby fat to hide them. He was older, she could tell, but he was also so handsome that her breath hitched, warmth pooling deep inside her.

“I’m… I’m lookin’ fer me sister,” she said, hating herself for stammering like that. She wished she could appear more confident, though she hardly felt it. She wished she could hide how much this man affected her just by giving her a heated look.

The man kept coming closer and closer to her, and Billie had no choice but to move backwards, trying to maintain the space between them, until her back hit a wall. She came to a sudden halt, head tilting up to look at the man as he closed the gap between them and placed one of his hands on the wall, caging her in.

Billie gulped nervously, her heart beating fast, like the wings of a hummingbird.

The man smirked at her. His face was covered in blood, some of it still gushing out of a wound on his forehead. It didn’t look deep, but Billie knew head wounds could bleed a lot, and her gaze kept straying to the gash.

“Are ye afraid o’ me?” the man asked casually, as if he were asking about the weather.

“Aye,” Billie said. “O’ course I am.”

Billie had expected the man to grab her, to mock her for it, to do all sorts of terrible things to her. What she hadn’t expected was for him to laugh, not in mocking but in surprise, and to pull away from her a little, giving her some breathing space.

“I promise ye, I willnae hurt ye,” he said, and though Billie didn’t quite believe him just yet, she could finally breathe with ease, the space between them suddenly filling up with air once more.

Billie’s eyes found the blood on his face again, tracing the trickles of red on his skin. He didn’t make a very convincing argument, covered in blood like that.

“Why did ye hurt the man?” she asked.

“He was tryin’ tae hurt a lassie, touchin’ her when she didnae want him tae touch her,” the man said. “An’ a man should only touch a lass with her permission.”

The man spoke those last words in a low, husky voice, leaning a little closer, but not touching her at all. Billie licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry, her body locked in the same rigid position.

“Are ye tryin’ tae seduce me?” she whispered not able to find her voice.

Laughing once more, the man nodded. “Aye, I suppose I am. But what I said is true.”

Billie gave him a doubtful look, hesitating for a moment. “Ye are much older than me,” she pointed out. It was hardly proper, though the man she was to marry soon would also be older, perhaps even older than this man.

“I am,” the man said. “But this wouldnae be the first time a man would enjoy the company of a younger lass. Besides… dinnae ye think I have kenned more than a laddie yer age?”

Billie didn’t appreciate the man’s rationalization of the situation, perhaps because she knew he was right, but didn’t want to believe it. Her stomach was twisted in knots at the thought that he was flirting with her, his presence overpowering and his body so close to hers that it was impossible to think. She was a young woman with no experience. He was much older, and he hadn’t hesitated to tease her and try to get her in his bed.

When Billie didn’t respond, the man gave her a small smile, his hand reaching out but still not touching her. “May I?”

It was as though Billie found her voice again and she frowned, her jaw jutting out in a challenge. She didn’t appreciate how forward the man was, how presumptuous.

“Are ye askin’ fer me permission like ye said ye should?” she asked. “Because I willnae give it tae ye.”

Her words drew another laugh from the man, the sound loud and amused. “Ye have somethin’ in yer hair. That is all.”

As he spoke, he bridged the gap between them and plucked a leaf from the top of her head, his fingers hardly grazing her at all. Billie’s gaze never left the man’s face, and in that moment, she realized she was being silly.

Wasn’t this precisely what she had wanted? The whole point of sneaking out of the inn in the middle of the night was so that she could find a man and kiss him, and here this man was, handsome and more than willing, and yet Billie was still forcing herself to hold back, to come up with any excuse that would allow her to avoid him.

This time, it was her turn to lean closer to him, just enough to show him what she wanted. The man gave her a small, crooked smile, and she knew he had understood what she wanted. Slowly, he closed the distance between them, his lips barely brushing over her own, anticipation building like a wave inside her.

The door of the tavern opened, the sudden creaking of its hinges deafening in the quiet between her and the man. Billie was quick to shove him away, her entire face burning with embarrassment at the thought that someone could have seen them, even though they were well hidden in the dark.

Her heart raced in her chest, her gaze searching frantically for someone who could have caught them, but whoever had come out of the tavern seemed to have gone the opposite way, not even knowing there was anyone at the other side, or perhaps not caring if they were there. Still, she couldn’t calm herself, her hands shaking.

When her gaze found the man again, she saw him touch his fingers gingerly against the cut on his forehead, wincing, as if he had just remembered it was there. He must be in pain, Billie thought. She couldn’t quite tell how deep the wound was, and though it couldn’t have been too serious if he was still standing, her concern got the better of her. She was, after all, a healer, and her first instinct was to take care of someone if they were wounded.

“Let me see yer wound,” Billie said, her tone losing all its timidity now that she had a task with which she was familiar.

The man frowned in confusion, but he came closer, close enough for Billie to examine the cut. She poked and prodded carefully at the surrounding skin, and even in the darkness of the little alley, she could tell it wasn’t too deep, but it was better to take care of it before it had the chance to get infected.

“We need tae clean it,” she said. “An’ dress it so that it doesnae get an infection. It isnae deep an’ it shouldnae scar, though.”

The man stood obediently before her, letting her push at his skin without complaints. “How dae ye ken all this?”

“I’m a healer,” Billie said. Or at least she wanted to be. Still, she knew enough to recognize that this wound was easily treatable.

“I have supplies with me,” the man said. “They’re in me room, I can?—”

“Would ye like me tae treat it fer ye?” Billie asked before the man could finish his sentence. Any experience that she could get was valuable, no matter how simple the injury.

For a moment, the man looked taken aback by her offer, lips parting as if to say something before he closed them once more. Then, he chuckled and gave her a teasing look, cocking an eyebrow.

“Ye wish tae come tae me room?” he asked, the meaning of his words clear in his tone. “Ye dinnae even ken me name, but ye’ll follow me tae me room just so ye can tend tae me wound?”

When he said it in that tone, Billie knew how it sounded, but that didn’t deter her. Not only was the man in need of assistance, but she had also made up her mind long ago that this would be the day she would finally have her first kiss. Perhaps this man wasn’t exactly what she had been looking for, but he was devastatingly handsome and he seemed nice and, most importantly, sober. He wasn’t like all those men in the tavern who had been drinking for hours already and perhaps couldn’t control themselves.

He promised he wouldnae touch me if I didnae want him tae.

And so far, he hadn’t done anything that proved his promises were nothing but a ploy. It was the best chance Billie would get that night; perhaps even the only chance.

“Lead the way,” she said with as much conviction as she could muster.

The man hesitated for a moment before his lips stretched into a grin and he took her hand. His was big and warm around Billie’s, his fingers wrapping securely around it.

He led her back into the tavern and up the stairs to his room, and Billie followed, excitement flooding her body.

Abigail will never think o’ me as meek again when I tell her.