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In that moment, with the amount of conviction lacing her voice, she almost had him convinced. But not quite. Sensing that there was more to her story than the few things she’d said, he let it go. Although she was putting on a brave front, she seemed frightened. Wary of something.

Or mayhap someone.

Either way, he wanted her to feel that she was safe here, so he grabbed the key off the wall and motioned for her to follow him.

He’d just met the lass. Pushing her for information would only scare her away.

Something he didn’t want to do. The poor woman looked like she could really use a place to rest. If naught else, he wanted to be able to offer that small comfort to her.

As they ascended the stairs, he tried to make small conversation, but she didn’t engage.

He’d chosen the last room on the left for her. Unlocking the door, he pushed it open. “Here ye go.”

With one last glance over her shoulder, she entered the room and dropped her travel bag onto the bed. “May I have the key?”

“Of course,” he remained in the hall, but reached out to drop the key in her waiting palm. “If ye are hungry, I can have a plate brought up to ye. I dinna ken how far ye have traveled, but, and again, I mean no offense, but ye look like ye could use a good meal.”

Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, she shook her head. “Thank you. I am fine, though.”

He got the feeling she was aught but fine. “I will have Cook put something together and have it brought up. ’Tis on the house.”

She put her hands up. “No, I can’t let you do that.”

He admired her want to pay for everything.

But she looked like she needed a respite, and he was happy to be the one to offer it.

“’Tis included in the cost of the room. All meals are,” he quickly added.

“So, in the morn, make sure to come down to break your fast. Cook is one of the best in town. Ye dinna want to miss her scones.”

Nodding, she ran her palms down her sides. “I thank you again. You are being much too kind.”

“If ye need aught else, please let me ken. I shall take care of it straightaway. Good night.” He closed the door and not a second later he heard the key being inserted and the lock engaging.

She was a bonnie lass, but there was a reason she was here. Her nerves were on high alert, both when she arrived and when she got to the room. He hoped that it wasn’t him that worried her.

Granted, he was a large man. A boxer. A fighter. He’d held the position of bouncer at many an establishment, including his own. But he would never hurt her, or any other woman.

She had him intrigued. There was mystery behind her eyes, and he wanted to unravel it.

*

Jocelyn Townsend didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until she turned the key in the lock, solidifying her safety from anyone on the other side of the door.

The innkeeper seemed pleasant enough, handsome even, though his hulking stature gave her pause. He looked like he could snap her in half if he wanted to. She didn’t feel unsafe around him. Just the opposite actually.

For the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

The way the innkeeper carried himself—straight-shouldered, sure of himself—it reminded her of men she’d seen in the past that had served in the military. Mayhap he had as well.

Moving to the one window in the room, she checked the latch.

Locked.

Good. Second floor or not, the window would remain locked at all times. Same with the door.

She was sure the innkeeper—she knew he had given her his name, but her mind was so busy, she couldn’t remember it—was suspicious of her. He had noticed straightaway that she didn’t have a chaperone accompanying her. She shouldn’t be surprised.

When she’d left her home in the middle of the night in Rochester, the last thing she had thought about was what it would look like to someone. She was just happy to be out of the house.

Away from him .

Away from his hurtful words.

Away from his brutal punches.

Spreading her palms on her stomach, the surge of protection washing over her was almost overwhelming as she thought of the life growing within her. She sighed.

It was why she finally left. She could take her husband’s mistreatment.

But the babe? No. She wouldn’t stand by while he beat her and harmed the baby.

The babe was innocent. It didn’t deserve the same hate Victor showed to her.

Once she’d found out she was pregnant, she had made up her mind to leave.

It was something she had been thinking about a lot in recent months, but the babe had forced her to move everything into motion.

The minute she thought she may be with child, she began planning.

She had already been hiding away a shilling here.

A shilling there. It was enough so she could run, but she didn’t have much left.

The journey here took most of her savings. Tomorrow she would approach the innkeeper and ask for employment.

Surely, he could use help. She had many skills. Cleaning, cooking, she even knew how to bookkeep. If he needed help in any of those areas, she could offer her services. Then she could secure permanent lodgings. Hopefully, she traveled far enough that Victor wouldn’t find her here.

Her belief was that he wouldn’t suspect that she would head north to Scotland.

Her family was from southern England. Well, they were.

They had passed on. But south was where all her friends were.

Not that she could call them friends now.

They surely weren’t. She hadn’t spoken to them since her marriage to Victor.

He had always said she was being selfish to give them attention that she should be giving to him. He was a very jealous man. After a few times of trying to reach out to her friends, and then bearing his wrath, she decided it was easier to let them go. Though it saddened her to do so.

Things were much calmer when she stayed home as he demanded and did what he ordered. At first, she thought it was just the way marriages went, even though she’d never seen her parents act in such a way, but they were older.

She knew better. She was much too smart for that.

Plenty of married people around her were perfectly happy in their union.

And the women that she knew were not beat by their husbands.

Only Victor did that. Jocelyn realized early on that no matter how well-behaved she was, the beatings would still continue.

She saw everyone else in their happy marriages and longed for the same thing for herself.

Now that she was no longer under Victor’s heavy hand, it was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She could breathe.

She was free.

Jocelyn sat on the bed and bounced up and down a couple of times on the soft mattress. This was one of the finer inns she’d stayed in on her travels. The bed was even nicer than the one she slept in at home.

Home.

She needed to stop referring to Rochester as home. It had never felt that way to her and she was happy to be gone from there.

A yawn overtook her. She was tired. So tired.

She could collapse right here and sleep for days.

A knock sounded, and she straightened, her nerves suddenly on edge.

“Miss Jocelyn. My laird asked me to put a plate together for ye. Said ye looked like ye could use a hearty meal.”

Approaching the door slowly, she put her ear against it. Listening for noises in the hall. Something that would alert her to the servant not being alone. But she heard naught.

“Miss?”

Thinking she was being overcautious, she sighed.

The chances of Victor finding her here were low.

She needed to stop thinking he would. Turning the key, she opened the door.

A girl who looked no more than ten and six stood there with a full tray in her arms, a warm, welcoming smile on her face.

“If ye dinna mind, I will set this on the table?”

Looking around the girl, Jocelyn noted that the hall was empty. She rolled her eyes. She really needed to stop thinking that Victor would appear around every corner.

“Of course, please come in.”

The scent of roast venison curled around her. Loudly, her stomach let out a growl.

The servant girl smiled. “Ye will enjoy this meal that Cook prepared. She’s the best in town.” She set the tray down and moved the covered plate onto the table. “I also brought some tea. I thought ye might like some with your meal.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

The girl dipped down into a curtsy. “I’m Flora. If ye need aught, please ask. I will be more than happy to bring it to ye.”

“This should be more than enough, Flora. Please tell your laird I am very thankful.”

With a smile, the girl exited, and Jocelyn rushed over to lock the door once again.

Laird. Did that mean he led a clan or something similar? Or was it the equivalent of Lord in England so he was a landowner? She wasn’t familiar with titles in Scotland.

As much as she wanted to stand there and ponder about the laird, the smells coming from the covered plate beckoned her, consuming her attention.

She lifted the cover, and her eyes widened at the delicious spread on the plate. Venison, crusty bread, roasted vegetables. The smells that filled the room were heavenly.

With an appetite that acted like she hadn’t eaten in days, Jocelyn ripped into the bread, dipping it into the sauce covering the venison.

As soon as it hit her tongue, she moaned.

Delicious was an understatement. Before she knew it, she’d cleared the plate and drunk two cups of tea.

Underneath a smaller covered plate, she found a lemon curd tart.

Savoring the delectable treat, she ate it in small bites, wanting it to last.

They weren’t lying when they said their cook was the best in town. Jocelyn believed she should be regaled to points farther. With such talent, she didn’t dare offer her cooking skills. She couldn’t hold a candle to the food she’d just eaten.

Her stomach full, she unpacked the few items in her travel bag.

Most everything she owned was left behind at the house she’d shared with Victor.

There just wasn’t enough space for her to carry more.

She only took a couple gowns and some undergarments.

All her gowns looked the same. Victor insisted that she only wore gray.

It was drab and the color washed out her skin, making her look even more pale than she was.

But he didn’t care.

Her hand closed around the small leather-bound diary. It had belonged to her mother and was the only item she had to remind her of her parents. They’d passed a few years ago, and Victor had sold off their house, including everything inside.

She’d managed to sneak the diary out from her mother’s possessions without him knowing and had kept it hidden ever since. When she’d left, she’d made sure to grab it.

The entries were from when her mother was young. She loved to read through her mama’s thoughts about society. Her friends. Her family. When she met papa. The diary had offered Jocelyn comfort when things got too much to bear.

As she settled into bed, she read a few entries, her mother’s delicate handwriting bringing a smile to her face. Tucking the diary under her pillow when she was done, she snuffed the candle and snuggled into the thick duvet.

Within seconds, exhaustion took over and she was drifting off to a peaceful sleep.