Page 10 of Fierce Highland Magic

The man took my elbow.

I removed his hand.

"I don't know you," I said.

"That is generally how introductions begin."

"You grabbed me."

"You were about to thank her."

His expression changed. The charm didn't leave him. It simply moved aside.

"Never say thank you in the market."

The noise around us seemed to pull away.

He spoke quietly. Seriously.

"Not unless you understand precisely what you are thanking someone for."

I glanced back toward the stall. The old woman had returned to arranging her wares, but I could feel the black shine of her eyes on my back.

"Why?"

"Because here, gratitude is not manners." His gaze held mine. "It is acknowledgment."

"Of what?"

"A debt."

The answer landed more heavily than it should have.

I looked at the spot where the silver cup had vanished.

"The drink was offered as a gift."

"Everything here is offered as a gift." His voice had gone almost gentle. "That does not mean it is free."

The thistle at my collar warmed.

I looked down at the pin again.

"What is this?"

His gaze followed mine to the silver bloom.

Something flickered across his face. Recognition, perhaps. Or fear.

It was gone before I could decide.

"A poor choice in accessories," he said.

"Who are you?"

He gave a small bow.

The kind a man gave when he knew perfectly well the gesture would make a woman think about his mouth and disliked neither the thought nor the effect.