Page 27 of Blood & Claw

A hand caught her wrist mid-strike. “Easy now.”

8: A BLADE FOR HIRE

THE VOICE WAS a rumble in her ear, deep and rich. The hold on her wrist was firm but not painful.

Ailsa stilled, heart slamming against her ribs like a fist.

The pockmarked man’s gaze narrowed, shifting past Ailsa. “Piss off,” he growled.

“When you let the lass go about her business, I will.” The stranger’s tone was cool, yet iron lay just beneath.

The man’s mouth twisted. “We were just having a friendly chat.”

“Aye … that’s exactly how it looked.”

Moments passed—a battle of wills—and then, the warrior let her go. Cursing under his breath, he picked up his cup of ale and waved them away. “Fine. You’re welcome to this whey-faced quim.”

The hand on Ailsa’s other wrist released, and she spun around to face the man who’d come to her aid.

He was big, at least a head higher than her, and broad-shouldered, wearing a fur cloak, leather vest and breeches, and heavy boots.

Raising her chin, she met a pair of honey-brown eyes. Heavy-lidded and intense, they sat beneath thick, expressive brows. Wavy, slightly disheveled oak-brown hair framed a powerfully masculine face. Heavy stubble emphasized the sharpness of his jaw.

Ailsa stilled. There was something oddly familiar about him.

Had they met before?

She couldn’t think where. Maybe she’d passed him in the fort earlier in the day, or on the road from Braewall?

Gaze narrowing, she tried to place him.

Aye, he was attractive—distractingly so—although such men couldn’t be trusted.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, making it clear he’d marked her scrutiny. “Looking for a blade to hire?”

Ailsa shifted uncomfortably, aware that everyone inside the ale-hall knew her business now. “Maybe.”

“Well, I might be interested.” He nodded to the empty booth a few feet away. “Shall we have a quiet word?”

Ailsa hesitated, sweeping her gaze around the cave-like space and the shadowy booths lining it. Everyone was still staring at her, at them. Tension crackled through the smoky air.

Gods. She was making a mess of this.

She was suddenly aware of the heavy coin purse hanging from her belt. The other patrons were likely itching to get her alone to relieve her of it, and so might this man be as well.

However, he had stepped in to help her, had prevented the situation from turning ugly.

She should at least hear him out.

All the same, Ailsa was on edge now. She didn’t want to follow a strange man into a dark corner. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t rescue Kayla on her own.

Giving a brusque nod, she brushed past the stranger, who still watched her, amber eyes assessing, and slipped into the booth.

Darach slid into the booth opposite the woman and did his best not to stare.

Watching her from across the hall, he’d thought her striking.

Up close, he marked her pale skin, sharp cheekbones, and a mouth so red it looked painted—only, he’d wager it wasn’t. And those eyes. In this light, her irises appeared coal-black, and she fixed on him with a sharpness that made the hair on the back of his forearms prickle.