Page 16 of Highland Storm

Something had changed.

Until today, Keane hadn’t even considered taking what was offered, and the only thing that had kept him at his post was the simple fact that he no longer had aught remaining for him at home—and for Cameron, who’d hoped to rise to his own fiefdom someday, so Aidan might find him worthy of Cailin’s hand. Now he sat in contemplative silence, considering what to do, watching a strange girl eat her food…

Keane was five and twenty and little more than a rover, with no bed to call his own and no chance of ever providing for a wife.

A distant memory surfaced—of a girl he’d once loved… but he was no longer that fresh-faced boy, the simple lad with a pure heart who’d loved a simple girl.

Keane studied the girl seated beside him. For some reason, she made his thoughts wander to places they ought not go… But it wasn’t simply her look. She was lovely, it was true, but it was more the fire in her eyes he was drawn to—something poor Meara had never possessed, though his sisters had aplenty. He sensed that, like his sisters, if a man could win the lass’s prickly heart, she would make a fine, fine bride.

Alas, she belonged to someone else already…

It was her fine English dress that gave her away.

She shivered a little and Keane longed to put his arms around her to keep her warm. “Surely your mon must be missing ye?” he asked.

She didn’t respond, though she hesitated before taking another bite.

What Keane truly wished to know was whether there was someone waiting for her at home. “If ye’ll merely tell me where ye belong, I’ll see ye safely returned.”

She stopped eating and slid Keane a mean glance.

“I belong nowhere,” Lianae said, choosing her words carefully. “To no mon.”

A tiny smirk turned her captor’s lips, and she shivered yet again—but not with fear. There was a knowing in his gaze that made Lianae wary, for he missed nothing. His gaze slid over her lavish gown—not so much her form, she realized, for there was something far less lecherous about the inspection, and she understood that he was considering her dress. His gaze returned to her face, lingering on her cheek, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

Wondering if he was looking at her bruise, or even if it was noticeable enough to see, Lianae resisted the urge to touch her face, and forced herself to eat.

“Art certain, lass?”

Her nerves frayed, Lianae turned on him then. “Of course I am certain, ye daft mon! If I belonged anywhere, wouldn’t I be the first to ken?”

Furiously, she took another bite of grouse, chewing under his watchful gaze, growing more confused by the instant. It was more the way he considered her that sent her pulses skittering and her thoughts askew. The expression on his face was full of what appeared to be concern, but Lianae knew better than to trust anyone in this day and age.

Go away, she silently prayed.

If she told him who she was and from whence she hailed, he would no doubt return her to the Earl. Or if she confessed herself a rebel, here and now, he might even take her head. If she begged him to take her to Ewen and Graeme, he would know her for a rebel and hand her over to his king. Or worse, he could use her to ferret out her brothers. Alive or dead, the sons of Óengus would be worth more than their weight in gold—certainly more than a handful of charm stones.

Nay, she was better off telling him naught.

Let him think what he will.

Somewhere out there, Graeme and Ewen awaited her. All Lianae needed to do was find them. And once she retrieved her charm stones, she would have the means to buy information.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow she would find a way to leave—once the Earl’s men gave up their search.

“Ach, lass, ye must belong somewhere?” the man pressed. And this time his tone was coaxing—like the will-o'-the-wisp, with their warm bright lights, luring hapless victims unto their deaths. Lianae shrugged and kept on eating, irritated by his presence and hardly knowing why. Thus far, he’d been even so much as kind.

Mayhap it was simply because his face appealed to her—a finely carved face with a strong jaw, and bright green eyes that invited her to let down her guard.

I will not.

After a time, he bent to scoop up a handful of snow and began to shape it between his palms. “I would say ye’re well born, by the looks o’ ye?” he continued to press.

But he could not know the half of it.

Lianae gave him a cutting look out of the corner of one eye, for there was still a question in his tone—a question she had no intention of answering.