Chapter 3

"Stay quiet," the stranger ordered as Callie followed him through the open door, "and put that shawl around ye. We dinnae want anyone tae see ye."

"Why are ye doing this?" Callie muttered. She'd followed him to the inn, unsure why she had done so. Perhaps it was because he hadn't hurt her when he'd had the opportunity to do so, or the offer of shelter itself.

Why do I even think I can trust this stranger?

She decided in the end that it was her mind's own foolish wish to want someone to trust, even this stranger in the night with whom she had barely shared one conversation. He'd offered her help and had refused to be interested when she'd attempted to be seductive. She'd known enough men to know this one was different.

"I have a sister yer age," the stranger said, keeping her close to the door as he bent his head back and checked the bar of the inn. An innkeeper was serving his customers ale and whisky through a serving hatch. He was guffawing with laughter, seeming drunk himself and far too busy with his task to notice her.

"What is yer name?" Callie asked, finding she could no longer bear the complete mystery that existed between her and this man. The stranger turned his head back toward her, a smile curling his lip.

"Avery. Nae surnames, let us leave it at that. And yer name?" he asked, with raised brows.

"Callie," she whispered, rather glad he did not want a surname from her. She would have given a false one if he'd asked for it.

"Well, Callie the kid," he said teasingly, making her brow furrow, "stay here a moment. Ye need food."

"Food?" she spluttered and reached for his arm before he could step away. Those dark blue eyes shot down to where she touched him.

"People dinnae usually touch me," he warned in a dark voice.

"Aye, I saw what happened to people who do touch ye," she said, reminding him of when he had pressed her to the wall. The fear had rocketed inside of her then. She had been so certain that was how she would meet her death, from a drunk stabbing her in the street, yet he'd backed away fast. He was no drunk, and he was no brute.

He wouldnae hurt me. He said so himself.

"I dinnae need food." She jerked her head in the direction of the innkeeper. "I dinnae need anyone tae ken I am here."

"I dinnae wish strangers tae ken I intend tae have a lass in my room, but why should ye care?" He tilted his head to the side.

Callie swallowed. He must have heard it, for one of his eyebrows twitched higher.

"I . . . I dinnae want strangers kenning my business," she said in a rush. She was hardly going to tell him she was running, hiding from Gowan, and feared meeting men who would recognize her in places like this.

That is my secret tae bear.

"Ye still need food. Wait here with the shawl over yer head," he ordered.

"I am nae following yer orders like an obedient pup."

"Ye are certainly a disobedient one."

"Demanding," she muttered.

"Childish." He tore his arm out of her grasp and walked away. Callie pressed her body into the shadows, trying to hide as much as she could in case anyone in the bar looked her way. Lifting the edge of the shawl, she watched Avery as he crossed the room toward the innkeeper.

There was something strange about this man who offered to help her. Not just in his churlish manner nor his wish to help her, but in the things he said.

He thinks I am a child.

Every man she had met acted as if she were a grown woman. She hadn't yet reached her seventeenth year, yet that didn't bother others. They still propositioned her. She thought of Wallace and his grabbing hands, then tried to adjust the shawl so it hid the rip in her bodice again.

When Avery walked away from the serving hatch, he had food parcels in his hand, wrapped in muslin and tankards of ale. He jerked his head toward the rickety staircase, ordering her silently to go first. Callie rushed up the stairs, glancing back once to the serving hatch over her shoulder. She rather thought the innkeeper looked her way, but she couldn't be certain.

Did he see me?

"Room on yer left," Avery said, nodding his head at one of the doors. "Open the door."

"Ye lack courtesy, dinnae ye?" she asked sharply, doing as he ordered.

"This from the thief," he muttered as she stepped into the room.

The chamber was so small that she halted just two steps in. The bed that was large enough for one person was pushed against the wall. There was a table with a clean bowl of water atop it, and a fireplace, though the logs were dry and unlit. Wind whistled in through the chimney, urging Callie to pull the shawl tighter around her body.

"Sit." Avery jerked his head toward the bed as he placed the food parcels and tankards down on the table. Callie sat, somehow growing used to his orders. "Here, start eating." He took one of the muslin parcels and tossed it toward her. She caught it easily, unwrapped it in her lap, then stared, slack-jawed.

There was cheese, fresh ham that smelt salty and inviting, and some torn manchet bread that had her mouthwatering at the sight of it.

"What's wrong? Is it moldy?" Avery asked, crossing toward her and looking over her shoulder. "I had maggots in my cheese once. Threw it at the innkeeper's head. He didn't serve me again after that." Callie managed a small smile.

"Nae, it's . . . it's . . ." She didn't have the words to describe the food, so she just started eating, chewing the morsels as quickly as possible. She was usually given the scraps from Torkell and Wallace's trenchers, and never allowed her own portion. Over the last few months, she had learned how to forage in the woodland for edible berries. Her knowledge of botany and healing had taught her what berries were poisonous. Even with the successful thefts, the highwaymen rarely gave her a helping such as this. She usually got the blue corners of cheese.

"Woah! Ye can slow down a little." Avery picked up a tankard and passed it to her. "Ye are starving. When did ye last eat?"

"I had a handful of berries yesterday," she said, speaking around a mouthful of cheese.

"Strange lass ye are," Avery whispered as he stepped back from her and undid his belt. He turned from her, dropped the weapon's belt over a hook and then shed his cloak.

Callie's curiosity beat her. She looked up from the muslin cloth and stared at Avery. The sight of him without his cloak had her chewing slower, and her gaze lingered.

Avery was unlike the thuggish men she was used to. He was well dressed beneath his cloak, with a tight-fitting waistcoat and white shirt sleeves rolled up to his arms to reveal muscle strength there. He bore scars on those forearms, harsh white lines that glinted in the candlelight. He turned, took one of those candles and used it to start a fire, dropping to his knees before the grate. With the orange flames jumping to life, they basked his body in an orange glow. His dark hair was inviting, curling in such an attractive way she imagined how past lovers might have run their hands through it. The strong jawline had Callie wondering what it would be like to trail a finger across it, and those well-sculpted lips made her think of kisses.

What is wrong with me?

She snatched her gaze away and looked down at the food before her. Never had she felt such a powerful attraction before. Men's lusts terrified her to such an extent that the mere thought of sharing her body with one had her retching, yet now her mind was full of imaginings she knew were wrong. As Avery stood to his feet and reached for the water bowl, washing his face, she still watched him intently.

"Look at yer food," he ordered.

"How did ye ken I was looking at ye?"

"The years have trained me tae have eyes in the back of my head. I kenned ye were following me, remember?" he asked, looking up from the bowl of water. She looked down at her food again, continuing to eat. "Come on then, kid, speak tae me."

"I am nae a kid."

"Ye are. Callie, the kid." He chuckled at his own jest. "Speak tae me."

"About what?"

His hands thudded against the table, either side of the bowl, making her flinch.

"About why a young lass like ye is wandering the streets of Kenmore in the middle of the night, looking for someone tae steal from."

"It . . ." Callie struggled to speak of the truth. She didn't know this man. He may be kind, offering her food and shelter. That was the kindest gesture anyone had ever shown her since leaving home. But how much could she really trust this stranger? "It was supposed tae be the last time," she whispered eventually.

Avery toweled off his face and turned toward her. He'd dampened some of his hair and water dripped off those tendrils. She thought of a lover's hand in those locks again, then imagined her own fingers trailing through it.

Stop yer traitorous thoughts!

She snapped her gaze away from him.

"The theft? Yer last time?" he asked, taking his own food parcel. She expected him to sit on the bed, but he didn't. He sat beside the fire and leaned against the surrounding hearth, kicking off his boots and placing them by the fire so they would dry out from the day's rain. "Ye must have thought me a wealthy target."

"Ye dress well." She nodded at his clothes. "Ye tried tae hide it beneath yer cloak, but I ken how tae see it."

Avery paused with his food and looked down at his own clothes.

"The last time, ye say. How much have ye stolen before?"

"Too much." She didn't wish to answer anymore, so she left it at that. In silence, she ate and was relieved Avery didn't push her for more information. A companionable silence descended between them, one in which Callie burned with curiosity.

She longed to know more about this stranger. Judging by the weapons he carried, he could have been a soldier, yet he had no clan brooch, no uniform, and he didn't even wear tartan plaid strips or trews.

"Who are ye?" she said, sipping her ale.

"Just a stranger passing through town. There is nae more ye need tae ken that that." He downed what was in his own tankard. "I have a sister yer age."

"Ye said."

"I cannae imagine her offering herself tae men in the street." He lowered the tankard and narrowed his dark-blue eyes, taking on such a glowering look that she uneasily shifted on the edge of the bed. "Tell me ye have nae actually done it? Given yerself to a man?"

"How is that any of yer business!?" she spluttered, nearly choking on her cheese.

"I am the man who has ye in his chamber right now."

"If ye intend tae force me?—"

"Never!" he thundered. Callie stopped, staring at him wide-eyed. He shook his head with such passion, a string of curses escaping his lips, that she couldn't help feeling there was more to this matter. "Never would I force a woman tae share herself with anyone. I've heard enough tales of women being forced tae do what they dinnae want tae. A woman sharing herself against her will . . ." He shuddered and paused with his food again. "It's as great a crime as murder in my eyes."

Callie dropped a chunk of cheese, shocked at his words. He picked it up and threw it in the fire, not even letting her eat food he thought might be dirty.

I wonder what he would think of my father . . . the man who has turned his own daughters into helping the courtesans under his roof.

Callie swallowed the last of her food uneasily. She'd eaten it all. Wiping her fingers, she looked at Avery again. He'd bought her food, given her a roof for the night, and now showed something of his heart. He would never force a woman.

"Ye have kindness in ye, stranger," she whispered. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Dinnae place yer trust in me, kid."

"Callie!" she corrected again, but he continued on as if she hadn't spoken.

"I am nae as kind as ye think." His expression darkened, and a muscle twitched around his eyes as he met her gaze. "I have dark thoughts, same as any other man, mine are just different. I'll give ye a roof for the night and send ye on yer way in the morning, but dinnae think it is more than this. I am nae about tae become yer protector."

"I didnae say ye were," she hissed. "I have had men offering tae be my protector, and I ken what that really means." She looked away from him, thinking of Wallace and his offer. She took off her shawl and folded it up, looking at the fine material. The lady who had dropped it in the street hadn't seemed to notice what she had lost, but it was beautiful to Callie. The paisley material was beautifully patterned, cream and blue. She laid it on her lap and brushed her fingers over it admiringly.

"What caused that?" Avery's words had her looking up from the shawl. He was using a chunk of cheese to point at the bodice of her gown. She looked down to see the rip.

"It disnae matter."

"Caused by a man's hand, eh?" Avery said, a tone of disgust in his voice.

"Ye are a good guesser."

"Nay, just wise, unfortunately." He cursed under his breath again. "Who did that tae ye?"

Callie didn't answer but stared at the window. It swung open in the cool breeze. She moved to her feet and closed the window, glad she could do such a thing tonight. Every night in the camp she merely had to suffer the chill wind. Wallace had offered to keep her safe from the wind in his arms more than once, but she knew what that meant and had refused.

"Kid, who did it?" Avery asked, his tone sharper now.

"It disnae matter," she said again. "Suffice it tae say, I sleep with a dirk now."

"Aye, ye are probably wise tae do that." He finished the last of his food and tossed the muslin cloth onto the table beside him. "We should get some sleep. I'll rise early in the morning, move on, but ye can stay here as long as ye need tae. I have paid for the day here at the inn, so nae one will disturb ye."

Callie looked sharply at him. His face was basked in the firelight on one side. It emphasized the handsome lines of his features.

"Why do this?" she whispered.

"I told ye, I have a sister yer age?—"

"And that's it? That's the only reason ye're helping me?" He tilted his head to the side at her words, plainly expecting her to say something more. "I . . ." Callie didn't know what else to do. She understood a bargain, one good turn for another. She had little to offer Avery for his kindness, but there was one thing she could give him. "If ye wanted something in exchange, I . . ." She stepped toward him, her footsteps uncertain.

"Nay. Pray, dinnae finish that sentence." His tone was sharp, and she stilled. "Is that what ye think all men want, Callie?" It was the first time he had used her name. The softness of it made her mouth dry.

"Is it nae?" she asked. "I've met men. Kenned many. They all want the same thing; they all think the same thing."

"Some men lust, some men wish tae make love, others dinnae think of a bed at all. Nae man is the same, even if they appear tae be." He stood slowly to his feet and pointed at the bed. "Ye take that bed, I will sleep on the floor."

"Ye will?" she murmured.

"Aye. Ye may have had a poor view of this world so far, ye have a lot tae learn, so let tonight be yer first lesson." He smiled. It was a lopsided smile so charming that Callie couldn't help staring at him. "I will nae touch ye. Dinnae offer yerself tae a man any less worthy of ye, kid. Believe me, I am nae that man." He turned to the bowl of water and washed his hands.

Callie stared at his back, stunned. He was the man that was well-dressed, and she was the poor thief, dressed in rags. He was certainly the finer of the two of them. She was the one not worthy of him.

"Time tae sleep, kid."

Callie rushed to the bed and pulled back the covers.

"Ye nae taking off yer shoes?"

"Nay." She had learned long ago not to take off shoes or sleep without her dirk. "Ye never ken when ye need tae run."

"Yer words worry me."

She offered no more explanation but delved into the bed and pulled the quilted blanket up to her shoulders. It had been months since she had known a bed and she groaned aloud at the softness of the mattress beneath her and the straw pillow.

"Where ye been sleeping, kid? That bed is hardly comfortable," Avery asked as he laid himself down on the floorboards in front of the fire, using a bag as a pillow.

"The ground," she confessed. A curse escaped his lips.

"Look beside ye. At the table."

She raised her head to see the table. There were two purses he had dropped from his belt on the surface.

"One is for ye. Take it in the morning, start yer life again."

"Ye have already given me food and shelter. That is enough," she said in a low voice.

"Nay, it isnae." His face wasn't visible, for he was on the floor, and she was pressing her head into the pillow, but the depth of his voice showed his sincerity. "Ye take that money or I'll follow ye tae make sure ye take it, understand?"

"Aye, a threat? Ha! Ye think that will make me do anything?"

"Ye have spirit, even humor, after what ye have been through. Aye, that's good indeed."

She didn't understand his praise but pressed her face into the pillow harder, longing for sleep as all fell quiet between them. Sleep didn't come, though. The tallow candle burned down in the room, growing smaller and smaller, but neither one raised their head to blow it out. Callie feared the darkness, and she had no wish tae see it that night.

Her eyes stayed on the door, fearful of the highwaymen finding her. When there were creaks on the floorboards beyond the door, she thought it was her imagination, her fears creating sounds that weren't there, then they grew closer, and stopped on the other side of the door.

"Avery?" she hissed in a whisper.

"If ye offer yerself tae me one more time?—"

"Shh! Listen," she pleaded, sitting up in the bed. He lifted his head and tilted it to the side, his expression darkening when he heard what she could hear.

"Someone is at the door," he murmured, his eyes moving toward hers. "Ye been followed, kid?"

A pistol fired, and Callie flattened her body to the bed.