Chapter 2

Callie stumbled out of the woods and towards Kenmore town. Smoke billowed out from the chimneys. It may have been summer, but that hardly meant there was much heat in the air so far into the highlands. The breeze bristled against Callie's arms, reaching through the covering of her long-sleeved gown to chill her bones.

"I will escape. I must," she muttered to herself repeatedly as she glanced back through the woods in the direction she had come from. No one had followed her. At least, not yet.

She had waited until the gang was caught up with their food before creeping away. Hettie didn't notice, for she was too busy staring wide-eyed at Torkell. Surprisingly, Wallace hadn't noticed either, for he was engrossed in his game of cards with Blair and clearly had no time for distractions, lest he lose money.

Callie stepped out from the trees and raised her hands to her arms, rubbing them to try to bring some heat to her body. She slipped through the crowds on the main street, hiding amongst them. She knew if she was going to escape the highwaymen for good and find a new way to live, she would need money.

It means being a thief one last time, but then I'll be done. Nae more stealing, nae more attacking innocents in the street. I'll be free of it!

The sun slipped down beyond the horizon as Callie searched the small streets of Kenmore. The village was nestled between pine trees in a valley that led to the ocean, overlooking a low-lying beach. Every now and then, she could hear the ocean in the distance. It hissed as the waves ran up the sand, but the sound was soon lost when the taverns opened their doors.

One inn close by was already merry with drinkers. Callie watched the tavern, hiding in the shadows, ready to pick her target. A drunk was much easier to rob than a sober man.

"The last time," Callie murmured. "The last time!" She would not be a thief forever.

What would my sisters think of who I have become?

A nightwatchman passed, though he seemed so drunk himself, he didn't notice her. She pressed herself closer into the shadows regardless, just in case he looked her way, moving her back to the wall of a building. Gowan had been looking for her ever since she had left and even spread the story of a fine businessman whose daughter may have been kidnapped to make nightwatchmen and constables look for her face. Callie had seen her face once, recreated on parchment and stuck to a wall in a town not far from there. There was a reward offered for anyone whose information led to finding her. Callie had snatched it down before the highwaymen could see it and realize there was a price on her head.

As the nightwatchman passed on, she returned her focus to the tavern. Some of the drunkards were now spilling out of the doorway, leaning on one another. The scent of ale, mead, and clove-infused wine wafted from the open door and hung on the drunkards' clothes.

Some men wore finer clothes hidden beneath tatty cloaks, plainly trying to enjoy themselves without drawing attention. Others wore rags. They would not be Callie's target tonight. She only ever stole from men who could afford to lose a little money. It was how she justified it to herself, even if her stomach still knotted at the thought deep down.

"Find the right man," she muttered, watching the faces of the men who left the inn as the darkness grew thicker.

When a fine lady passed and dropped a paisley shawl, barely taking note of what she had done, Callie scurried forward and snatched it up, wrapping it around her shoulders. It did little to ward off the cold, but at least it was something. Hastening back to her place in the shadows, she lifted the end of the shawl and wrapped it around her mouth, trying to warm her lips and cheeks.

There. He could be the one.

A man stepped out of the tavern. He wore a rough cloak that was belted tightly around his stomach. Evidently, he was trying to hide the fine attire beneath. He did not seem particularly drunk. He was not like some of the others who could not walk straight or sang so merrily they made their fellow drinkers roar with laughter. No, this man walked fine and was calm, with his lips pressed together, but that didn't mean he wasn't drunk. Most men leaving a tavern had had one or two drinks at least.

The man kept his head low as he flicked his cloak around his neck and pulled a hat low over his brow. He wandered away from the tavern, walking slowly down the street. Callie followed at a distance, determined to wait for the right moment when he would be completely alone. They turned two corners, leaving the tavern far behind. The man seemed to grumble at some point, complaining to himself about something, though Callie couldn't hear what.

When he stopped by a well and pulled himself some fresh water to drink, Callie used the opportunity to cut in front of him, to see his face at last. He lifted his hat enough to show his features. There was a strong nose and high cheekbones. The brow was low, giving him a brooding expression, though he was not exactly ugly. The more Callie looked, the more she thought his face had interesting features. His eyes were intense as he busied himself with the water. Beneath the hat, she could see he had short dark hair that curled at his temples.

"Who's there?" he suddenly barked into the shadows. Startled, Callie retreated, masking herself completely in the darkness. "Aye, ye think I am blind enough nae tae notice when I am being followed? Ye'd do well enough tae go back where ye came from, whoever ye are. Ye'll get nothing from me tonight." He dropped the bucket back down into the well and walked on.

Callie held her breath, certain for a second that he had seen her, but he walked straight past her, not even glancing in her direction. She released a shuddering breath and waited for him to get a little further down the street, then she followed again. She waited until he was far enough away to make her approach.

Och, I detest doing this.

She glanced down at what she was wearing and loosened her grasp on her shawl. Dropping it to loop around her elbows, she shifted her gown so her cleavage was more visible. Her worn, dark-blue gown had been stolen from the back of a cart a few months ago. It was now ripped in places, and there was even a tear on the bodice where Wallace had tried to grab her one night. The corset could be glimpsed through the rent. She adjusted the shawl to hide it then approached the man, hurrying toward him.

"Stranger?" she called. He didn't appear to hear her at first, walking on. Callie supposed he truly was drunk after all.

Aye, it will make him an easier target.

"Ah, I see I am nae enough tae capture yer interest just by calling tae ye. At least look at me, then ye can reject me on sight," she teased and hurried around him. Callie stopped in front of the man, urging him to look at her. He stumbled to a stop, his eyes widening, and his body stiffening. She could have sworn his hand darted to a place beneath his belted cloak, but she couldn't be sure what he reached for.

Is it a weapon he seeks?

Callie offered the most seductive smile she could muster, knowing it had a habit of making Wallace weak at the knees.

"Well, stranger? Will ye reject my attentions now?" she asked boldly, stepping toward him. The stranger backed up. At this proximity, she could see his eyes were the deepest blue she had ever seen. Even in the moonlight, they glowed the color of a stormy ocean.

"Leave me be," he ordered. His imperviousness to the smile had her lips parting.

* * *

Avery could have laughed at the sight before him. She was just a girl dressed provocatively, and something felt wrong about it. She had a fair face, fine indeed, with dark hair that was naturally curly and waved at her shoulders. Her chin was softly pointed, and her gray eyes looked silver in the moonlight. Yet she was young, too young to be wearing such a gown and lowering her shawl in such a way as to draw his attention to her breasts.

"I said, leave me be." He stumbled past her, pretending to be drunk, hoping she would leave him alone if she was there to sell her body. After all, what courtesan would wish to put up with a drunkard's pawing attentions?

"That is all?" she asked and hurried around him again, stopping before him. "A lone woman walks up tae ye in the night and ye have nothing more tae say than leave ye be." She stepped closer toward him, and he backed up, nearly colliding with a wall behind him. "I would have thought ye'd ask me something more." She raised her hand and drew her finger down the center of his chest.

She is a child.

Avery couldn't help it. A deep chuckle escaped his lips, and the laugh evidently startled her so much that the provocative smile vanished, and her hand froze.

"Ha! Ye think this is seductive?" He waved a hand at her face and body. "Go home tae yer mother, child. Ye should be at home in bed at this hour." He pushed her hand off him and stepped past her.

"My mother?" Her voice squeaked high in surprise.

"Aye, that makes ye nae sound like a child," he muttered wryly, aware that she was hurrying to keep up with him as he tried to walk away. "Try speaking in an even higher pitch, that will make ye seem like a woman."

"To the wee man above and all his angels, ye are curt," she muttered sharply. "Here I thought I'd spotted a fair face in this darkness, plainly I was wrong tae speak tae ye. The conversation doesnae match the face."

"Aye, ye were wrong." He stopped walking and looked toward her. "So, why are ye following me?"

"Ye have a fair face still," she said teasingly, the smile growing again.

"Ha! Do ye realize how strange it is tae see a child flirting in such a way?" he chuckled, gesturing to her. "Go home, child."

"Oi!" She hurried after him as he walked away again. "I am nae a child."

"Ye need the use of a looking glass."

"Ye need the use of yer ears. Can ye nae hear how ye sound?" she muttered, trailing after him still. He was so busy glancing back at her that he stumbled on a rock in the track road and fell into the wall nearby. "Well, ye are certainly drunk."

Avery stalled where he was, deciding to keep up the act of being drunk, for it might just make her leave faster.

"Aye, so I am." He stepped away from the wall, pretending to be so disorientated that he bumped her shoulder as if unable to walk straight.

"Oomph!" She was nearly knocked over, but he caught her wrist and kept her standing. The two of them stood there, staring at one another, their eyes wide.

"Ye wouldnae want a drunk for a customer tonight, would ye?" he asked and released her. She didn't have her balance, though, and fell over, landing on her rear on the earth.

Well, that wasnae supposed tae happen.

"Choose another man," he ordered and snatched up her hand, tugging her to her feet so fast, she tottered and nearly fell over again. "Better yet, stop plying such a trade as this. Ye are a child, and any man who takes ye up on yer offer is sick. Choose a better life than this."

As he turned away, his mind was consumed with one thought only.

Ella.

He feared this was how his love lived now. Did she trail the streets outside of her brothel? Was she forced to sell her body the way this child was doing, just to survive? The thought sickened him to his gut.

"Ye are drunk," the girl muttered.

"Aye, I am," Avery said and walked on, trying to reach his inn for the night so he would be done with this fiasco.

"Then I'll bid ye goodnight," she said, seeming to give in. Yet her hand touched his arm. When another hand reached for his belt from behind him so lightly that if he had been truly drunk, he wouldn't have noticed, Avery finally realized what was happening.

She is nae a courtesan.

Her hand latched around the leather purse at his belt.

She's a thief!

Avery snatched up a dirk from his belt so fast and spun around, her gasp of shock filled the air. He pushed her back, all the way to the wall, so she was pinned there, defenseless against him. Her hands found purchase against the building behind her. Her lips trembled, and those big gray eyes didn't blink once. She was terrified of him.

This is what Ella suffers. Men pin her tae walls and do God only kens what. This look of fear will be the same as in Ella's eyes.

"Ye're a killer," the girl muttered in fear.

"Nay." He released her sharply. "I will defend myself, though. Jump at me again, try tae take my purse, and ye will be punished for it." He slid the dirk back into his belt. She breathlessly stepped away from the wall, clearly stunned.

"Ye arenae drunk at all, are ye?"

"Nay." He shook his head. "Ye are a thief, eh? Looking for an easy target?" She nodded once and hung her head forward. Her hands now rested her chest as she sought to protect herself from him. "Ye need nae fear me. I would never hurt a girl."

Her eyebrows raised in clear doubt after what had happened.

Avery's heart bled for her. Somewhere in his mind, he no longer saw this stranger before him. He saw other women instead. He saw Ella, and his sister, Eloise. She was about this girl's age.

She needs help.

"If ye want something, then follow me. I will give ye shelter for the night."

"Wait . . . what did ye say?" The girl stumbled as she followed, clearly so shocked that she didn't appear to be looking where she put her feet.

"Follow me," he reiterated louder. "Ye have the use of yer ears?" He repeated her earlier tease.

"Ye have a strange sense of humor," she muttered.

"Well, maybe my humor is strained after someone just tried tae rob me," he snapped. The girl fell still at his side. He glanced back in her direction. "Do ye nae want that shelter, then?" She hurried after him a moment later.