Chapter 4

The room was bigger than Billie had imagined in such a tavern, though it held little more than the essentials. There was a bed, a washbasin in the corner of the room, and a small table where the man had left his things arranged in a neat row. Billie looked around as he invited her inside, taking in the bare walls and the thin carpet on the floor, the small window near the bed.

It was dark in the room, but the man made quick work of lighting a few candles which, along with the small fire that burned in the fireplace, filled it with a soft, orange glow. She could see him better now, her gaze tracing the straight line of his nose, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the intensity in his blue eyes.

She would guess there was about a decade separating them. The man must have been around thirty years of age, and clearly much more experienced than Billie was or ever hoped to be. Surely, he had had many women if he was so confident and comfortable. Billie, on the other hand, was about to marry the man with whom she would spend the rest of her life.

“Everythin’ ye need is on the table,” the man said and Billie rummaged through the salves and tools there just to keep her mind off him—and her body away from him. His mere presence was like a siren song, calling to her in ways she didn’t want to examine too much.

But this is why I came here. Fer an adventure.

With nothing labelled, Billie had to rely on her sense of smell to find the right salves, though it didn’t take her long. There was a jar, the fragrance of honey strong when she opened it, and she brought it over where the man sat on the edge of the bed, along with some clean cloth. Then, she took the pitcher of water and placed it near the fire to warm it, before she dragged the only chair in the room closer to him and took off her cloak, draping it over its back.

“Ye have an entire healer’s supply here,” Billie said, just so they wouldn’t have to sit in silence. The more she talked, the more she could pretend this was nothing but her following this stranger to his room to help him.

“Aye,” the man said. “I travel often an’ I carry it with me since the last time I was injured here.”

Billie wanted to ask if that had been because of a fight, too, but she thought it wiser to remain silent. She couldn’t help but wonder who this man was, though, and why he kept getting injured like this.

“Ach, I see,” Billie said quietly, for lack of anything better to say. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, so Billie took it upon herself to continue the small talk. “Dae ye stay here often, then?”

“Nay,” the man said, his lips stretching into a smile. “Only when I find good company.”

Billie was quick to avert her gaze, unable to meet the man’s eye. The way he spoke those words made it sound as if she was the good company now and the insinuation made her swallow drily, trying to push her embarrassment down.

Suddenly, she stood and walked over to the fireplace, picking up the pitcher of water. It wasn’t quite hot yet, but Billie wanted to clean the man’s wound as soon as possible, the urge to flee too strong to ignore.

Once she had brought it to the bed, she dipped the cloth in it and then dabbed the blood carefully off the man’s forehead. When the cloth touched his skin, he drew in a sharp breath, but other than that, he didn’t make a sound as Billie cleaned the wound. He only gazed at her as if enthralled, as if taking his eyes off her was impossible.

Once the wound was clean, Billie dabbed some of the salve on it with another cloth, making sure to cover it well. This time, the man did wince a little, his head moving back to avoid her touch.

Instinctively, Billie curled her fingers around his jaw to hold him still, and when she felt the man’s cheeks move under her hand, she looked down and found him smirking. She did her best to ignore the heat that crept up her skin, as well as the heat that pooled inside her, her desire making itself known. Instead, she focused on the task at hand, busying herself with cataloguing everything about the small wound in her mind.

“Ye’re very skilled at this,” he said after a few moments of silence. “Where did ye learn?”

“I’m a healer. Well… I wish tae be, at least. It’s always been me dream,” Billie said, and she couldn’t keep the pride from her voice. This was familiar territory. She could talk about healing without feeling as though she were at the mercy of her more base desires. “I’ve been doin’ this ever since I was a bairn.”

“Ye have?” the man asked. “An’ what does yer husband say about this?”

If Billie’s fingers tightened a little on the man’s jaw as punishment for being so forward with her, no one had to know.

“That isnae a very clever way tae find out if I’m married,” she pointed out, unable to keep the sharp edge from her voice. It was very presumptuous of him to think she would follow him to his room if she had a man at home. “Would I be here with ye if I were married? It wouldnae be so proper, would it?”

The man didn’t seem at all phased by Billie taking offence to his words. If anything, they seemed to amuse him even more, his smirk widening. “Ye dinnae ken how many married lasses I’ve had in me bed. Many o’ them marry young, ye see, an’ they dinnae have the chance tae enjoy what life has tae offer them.”

Billie was rendered speechless, her mouth hanging slightly open, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. It wasn’t news to her that many women slept with men other than their husbands. Their husbands, after all, did the same more often than not, bringing a parade of women to their bed. Still, to hear it spoken so casually, as if it wasn’t shameful, made Billie finish up her work quickly and pull back from the man.

She wasn’t married yet. In fact, she wasn’t even properly betrothed, so anything she would do that night wouldn’t be a betrayal. Still, she couldn’t help but think that perhaps her sister was right; perhaps she wasn’t built for this sort of thing, a quick and meaningless affair with a man she had only just met.

She didn’t even know his name yet.

“Ye havenae told me yer name,” Billie said, as she began to clean up, pulling away from him entirely. It was best to put some distance between them, she thought, figuring it would help with the unbridled attraction she felt for him.

The man hesitated, though, giving her a strange look. “I dinnae give me name tae the lasses I meet,” he said, which only served to strengthen Billie’s curiosity, as well as her belief that he wasn’t what he seemed to be. Why would he want to conceal his identity if he had nothing to hide? Did he have an unsavory past? Was he more dangerous than Billie had initially thought?

He had beaten a man half to death, after all. Billie had seen how the man had struggled to walk after he had let him go, how bruises had blossomed on his face, blood dripping everywhere around him. And yet Billie was strangely unafraid of him. There was a gentleness about him.

“How about this?” the man asked when Billie remained silent. “Instead o’ exchangin’ names, ye can tell me yer biggest burden an’ I shall tell ye mine. It is easier tae share with a stranger, an’ ye seem like a lass who needs it.”

Billie didn’t know what it was about her that gave it away. Her expression, perhaps, which had been morose ever since she had volunteered to marry Laird MacAuley. This man wasn’t the only one who had commented on it; Abigail, too, had a lot to say about the way Billie carried herself those days, shoulders dropped and gait slow as though she was always treading water.

Will sharin’ me burden with this stranger truly help?

It wasn’t as though she had anyone else to whom she could talk. She didn’t want to worry her sister or her father, and soon enough, she would have no one familiar close to her. Why not entrust her pain to this stranger, then, since she would never see him again?

With a sigh, she took a seat back on the chair, her gaze falling to her lap, where her fingers fidgeted with the fabric of her blue dress. “I told ye I’m nae married, but I will be soon. I am meant tae marry a man I’ve never met, an older man, an’ I fear he willnae allow me tae have free will. I fear he’ll keep me from bein’ a healer an’ he’ll try tae control everythin’ in me life.”

It was the first time Billie had voiced this concern to anyone, though not the first time she had thought about it. For all she knew, her husband would forbid her from ever touching any salves and pastes again, thinking that it wasn’t suitable for the Lady of the Clan to do such things. Billie wanted nothing more than to keep learning and helping people, pursuing her dream that she had had ever since she was a child.

The man, though a stranger, looked at her with such warmth that Billie had to avert her gaze once more. “It’s a noble dream,” he said softly as he reached for her hand, wrapping his own around it. His palm was warm and his fingers strong, though not crushing, holding her hand securely. “If I had a wife like ye, I would never force her tae stop doin’ what she loves. Ye seem like a clever lass an’ all ye want is tae help others. Why would anyone try tae take that away from ye?”

Billie looked at the man with wide, astonished eyes. When he put it like that, her concern sounded silly, but she knew how many husbands treated their wives. Like property and nothing more. Not everyone was like her father or like her sisters’ husbands, who cherished their wives and saw them as people. Some men saw their wives as an extension of themselves instead, a thing to be controlled and kept in a cage.

As they looked at each other, Billie found herself leaning closer and closer. There was very little space between them, their breaths mingling in the dark when she asked, “What about yer burden?”

It was then that the man pulled back and stood, pacing by the bed restlessly. Billie watched him, knowing that whatever it was that bothered him must be a terrible thing.

When he came to a stop by the foot of the bed, he turned his head to gaze out of the window, though it was just as dark outside. “I dinnae ken if I am me faither’s bairn,” he said. “Me maither… before she died, she told me I may be a bastard.”

Though Billie didn’t know what kind of legacy the man carried, she did know finding out such a thing would be difficult for anyone. When she imagined hearing the same thing from her mother, her heart almost shattered, even though it was a hypothetical situation. After a moment of hesitation, she stood and placed her hand on the man’s shoulder, trying to give him any comfort she could.

The man didn’t hesitate before his hands came to rest on her waist. It was strange to think she didn’t even know his name, and yet the two of them were so close, nothing but a few inches separating them. It would be easy to lean closer and kiss him, but Billie couldn’t bring herself to make the first move. She had never been this close to a man before, after all, and though her stomach tied itself into knots in anticipation of what was to come, her body was immovable and incapable of putting an end to this unnerving feeling.

Just as she had expected, though, the man was more than happy to do it himself, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. It was little more than a brush of his mouth against hers, and only when Billie didn’t try to push him away did he deepen it, his tongue darting out to drag over the seam of her lips. Billie gave herself over to the sensation, her mind blank save for the waves of pleasure the man’s touch and his kisses brought her, her skin heating up whenever he touched.

Even through her clothes, his hands were searing, fingers trailing a path up her ribs until he could cup her breasts. The touch felt more exhilarating than anything Billie had ever felt before, moans tumbling from her lips as the man’s thumbs brushed over her nipples, the scratch of fabric over the sensitive flesh making her entire body jolt with the mix of pain and pleasure.

She had little choice other than to surrender to the man’s ministrations as he kissed down her neck, but the last thing she wanted was for him to stop. She didn’t think she could bear it if he stopped now, when she had finally had a taste of what she had been craving for so long.

Billie had spent her years focusing on her studies, trying to be the best healer she could, but her body had always known it was missing something, something she couldn’t have named before that night. Now she knew what it was: this touch, this heat that coursed through her.

With a groan, the man pushed the neckline of her dress down, tugging and pulling at all the fabric and the laces to free her breasts from their confines. Billie’s chest heaved, her skin flushed pink under the man’s hungry gaze, her heartbeat soaring. Within seconds, his hands were back on her breasts, squeezing the ample flesh and teasing her nipples to hardness.

“Has anyone ever done this tae ye before?” asked the man, whispering into her ear. She could feel, rather than see, the smirk he gave her, pressed as he was against her, as if any gap between them was too much.

Billie shook her head, her breath shallow and rapid as all her senses were assaulted with pleasure. He was everything she could feel, everything she could see and smell, the faint traces of some oil he must have bathed with still lingering on him.

“I’ll make ye feel good, lass, I promise ye,” the man said, his words scattered between the kisses he pressed on her neck and chest, lips moving lower and lower. “I’ll make ye feel so good, every time ye think o’ me ye’ll have nae choice but tae pleasure yerself.”

The man’s words left Billie speechless, their indecency as embarrassing as it was thrilling. As he spoke, his hands dug through the layers of her clothes until he could reach between her legs, pressing them against a spot that had her gasping for breath.

What am I doin’? I only came here fer a kiss!

Billie had forgotten herself, too lost in the pleasure the man was giving her to remember that she couldn’t do this. She was supposed to be marrying another man soon, and she couldn’t let this one touch her, not like this.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was pushing the man away, her hands trying to smooth down her dress and cover her breasts.

“I–I cannae do this.”

She was certain she looked like a mess, half-nude, her hair falling freely around her face, and she grabbed her cloak to conceal her body from him, holding it tightly around her.

The man stumbled back when she pushed him, looking at her in surprise. When he opened his mouth as if to speak, Billie didn’t want to hear whatever it was he had to say. She wouldn’t be swayed by sweet words and reassurances.

Before he could utter a single word, she was gone, disappearing into the night.