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17: HONORABLE
THEY ENDED THE day in the hamlet of Inverneil.
Perched near the coast, next to a stone bridge spanning a wide burn, the village was a welcome sight after an exhausting day.
Despite the weariness that pressed down upon her shoulders, Davina’s mouth lifted at the edges as they approached Gilip Tavern, a squat stacked-stone establishment with a neatly thatched roof.
“I’ve stayed here before,” Mackay informed her as he guided the gelding around the back to the adjoining stables.
“Best mutton pies on the west coast of Scotland.”
Davina huffed a tired laugh at this proclamation.
“Aye, and have ye tried them all?”
“Enough to judge,” he assured her.
“It’s a welcoming place too … we’ll be well looked after.”
This news was a relief indeed.
After the skirmish at noon, Davina’s nerves had jangled for the rest of the day.
And even though the men who’d tracked them down from Oban were all dead, it had been an effort not to steal anxious glances over her shoulder.
She’d killed someone.
Davina had expected to go to pieces in the aftermath of shooting an arrow through that warrior’s neck, but in the wake of the attack, a strange calm had settled over her.
She kept waiting for the storm to break, although it hadn’t yet.
Perhaps it would later when she was alone.
“Will ye tell yer brother that we killed the king’s men?” she asked after a pause.
Mackay nodded, his mouth thinning.
“He’ll understand that we weren’t given any choice,” he replied.
“Although we’re fortunate indeed that no one witnessed that fight. The last thing my family needs is the king’s wrath.”
Davina nodded, even as disquiet feathered through her.
Theirs was the only horse stabled at the tavern this evening, which meant there would be plenty of rooms available inside.
Mackay was running low on coin, so Davina paid for two chambers side-by-side at the back, with windows overlooking the hills to the west. She then ordered supper to be brought up for them both and hot baths to be drawn.
Before she retired next door, Davina insisted on looking at the injuries her companion had sustained during the fight.
There were three cuts—two to his right arm, and one across his ribs—but luckily, all were shallow.
Nonetheless, Davina asked for some vinegar and fresh linen to be brought up to Mackay’s chamber.
She then tended to him.
“They’re just scratches,” he muttered, stripping off his soiled and bloodied léine.
“There’s no need to fash yerself.”
Davina harrumphed.
“My mother taught me that even the most innocuous-looking scratch can turn sour if not tended well,” she told him sternly as she poured vinegar onto a strip of cloth.
“And she was a wise woman indeed.”
Lennox huffed a long-suffering sigh, seating himself on a stool by the open window.
It was a mild evening, and the innkeeper hadn’t bothered to light the hearths.
The blustery wind had died with the setting sun.
“Go on then.”
Davina stepped close, her brow furrowing.
“Lift yer arm up,” she instructed.
“I’ll see to the cut on yer ribs first.” She was careful to keep her focus on his wounds, not on the fact that an attractive man was sitting half-naked in front of her.
Mackay yelped when she placed the vinegar-soaked cloth on the cut, wiping away the crusted blood.
“Christ’s bones, woman,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“It burns.”
Davina snorted.
His reaction reminded her of her father’s.
Colin Campbell wouldn’t so much as let out a groan of pain in front of his men after a fight, but when alone with his womenfolk, he whimpered like a bairn.
Thoughts of her father shadowed her mood, sadness tugging at her.
She wondered how he’d take the news that she’d lost her dowry and would be residing at Dun Ugadale.
Would he care at all?
“Hold still,” she said, dabbing at the wound once more.
“I want to make sure it’s clean.”
He flinched, and she muttered a curse under her breath, continuing her ministrations until she was satisfied the wound was properly cleansed.
She then drew back and took hold of his right wrist, bringing his arm up so that she could wash the cuts there too.
“Ye are fortunate,” she murmured, pouring vinegar onto a fresh cloth.
“None of these need stitching.”
He made a strangled noise in response.
Mouth twitching, for it was hard not to tease him, Davina began dabbing at the wound on his forearm.
All the while, she held onto his wrist—and to her surprise, she could feel his pulse fluttering against her fingertips.
Surely, she wasn’t causing him that much pain?
When she glanced up, she noticed that he wasn’t grimacing any longer.
Instead, he was watching her—and the intensity in his eyes made her heart roll over.
It was that same look he’d given her right before they kissed days earlier.
A look that made her breathing grow shallow and caused heat to ignite low in her belly.
Such a stare could make a woman forget herself.
Davina ducked her head once more and deftly cleaned the final of the three cuts, on his bicep.
Then, still avoiding his eye, she reached for the last of the clean linen, tore off three strips, and bound his wounds carefully.
“Ye will want to have a healer check these injuries once we reach Dun Ugadale,” she said briskly.
“Just to ensure they haven’t festered.”
“I shall,” he assured her.
“Although I’m sure ye have done a fine job, Davina.”
Stepping back, her fingers tightening around the clay bottle of vinegar she held, Davina picked up the cork and stoppered it.
To her chagrin, she found her hands were shaking just a little.
Dizziness swept over her then.
Perhaps she should have asked one of the serving lasses to tend to Mackay’s injuries.
She couldn’t trust herself around him.
“Aye, well … let’s hope so,” she replied.
She lifted her chin then, meeting his gaze once more.
Heat flushed through her when she saw he was smiling, a knowing glint in those midnight-blue eyes.
Curse the knave, he knew why she was avoiding his gaze.
“I’ll leave ye now then,” she said, motioning to the steaming tub of water sitting near the hearth.
“A bath also awaits me in my chamber, and I don’t want it to get cold.”
“Aye.” Mackay rose to his feet, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he flashed her another smile, a warm rather than teasing one this time.
“Will ye join me for supper later?” He paused then, their gazes fusing.
“I must admit, I’ve never enjoyed eating alone.”
Davina took a bite of mutton pie and sighed.
Glancing up, she saw Mackay was watching her.
Fortunately, it wasn’t with that hot gaze of earlier.
Instead, his expression was expectant.
“What do ye think?”
Davina swallowed her mouthful.
“It’s delicious.”
He winked at her.
“I told ye they were good.”
Smiling, Davina focused on her supper once more.
They sat in companionable silence for a while then, at the table by the window in his chamber.
Outdoors, the sky had turned dark-blue—the color of Mackay’s eyes—and the shrill notes of a Highland pipe from the common room below drifted up, echoing through the stillness.
“It sounds as if they’re having a merry time downstairs,” Mackay noted eventually, with a wry smile.
He’d nearly finished his pie, while she was only halfway through hers.
“Are ye sure ye don’t want to join them?”
Davina shook her head.
“I’ve had more than enough excitement for one day,” she replied.
“I’m happy to sit up here … and have a little peace.”
Below, off-tune, drunken singing accompanied the pipe, and Mackay grimaced.
“Aye, well … that’s probably wise.”
“Ye can go down, if ye wish?”
Their gazes met, and his mouth curved once more.
“No, ye are much better company … I’d rather stay here.”
Davina’s heart did a little patter at this.
She too had no desire to be anywhere else at present.
Mackay leaned back in his chair then, his fingers wrapping around the tankard of ale.
“Ye showed an impressive aim with that bow and arrow today.”
Her lips curved.
“I wish I could agree with ye, Mackay, but it was a lucky shot. I’m out of practice … and I was shaking so badly, I’m surprised I could shoot straight all.”
He snorted.
“Nonsense. Yet hit the man square in the throat.” He shook his head then, his expression sobering.
“I’m sorry ye had to witness all of that, Davina.” Their gazes met and held.
“And yet ye are remarkably calm this evening. I expected to see ye more shaken.”
She sighed.
“I am shaken, but I’ve the wits to realize that some occasions call for violence.” She paused then, favoring him with an arch look.
“I wasn’t going to ride away and leave ye to deal with them alone.”
The moment drew out before he smiled and lifted his tankard to his lips.
Davina dropped her gaze to the pie and continued eating.
Despite that she was enjoying it, the pie was huge, and she eventually gave up, pushing the dish away.
“Ye aren’t going to finish that?” Mackay asked.
She laughed, noting the hungry way he was eyeing her meal—and it struck her then that she hadn’t laughed properly in a long while.
It felt strange. “No, ye are welcome to though, if ye wish?”
The man didn’t need to be asked twice.
Pulling her dish close, he tucked in.
Davina watched him eat, a smile tugging at her lips.
She then picked up her own tankard, taking a sip.
Like the pie, it was a credit to this tavern—cool with the sharp flavor of hops.
A sensation of well-being filtered over her then.
Maybe it was the good food or her sudden burst of mirth, but for a few instants, she forgot her cares.
She didn’t ruminate over the past or worry about the future; instead, she just eased into the moment.
The rise and fall of the pipe, accompanied by merry, if raucous, singing and the caress of sweet summer air on her face through the open window made her feel as if there was no other place she’d rather be than here right now.
Like laughter, it was a strange sensation.
After Blair’s death, she’d spent her days wishing she were somewhere else.
But this evening, she was content.
“I don’t think I’ve thanked ye properly for offering me yer kin’s hospitality, Mackay,” she said after a lengthy pause.
Her companion had just finished his last bite of pie and was washing it down with a mouthful of ale.
“Ye must think I lack manners.”
He glanced up before shaking his head.
“I think ye’ve had yer mind filled with more important matters,” he replied.
She was grateful to note there was no teasing edge to his voice now.
His face was serious.
“Even so, I want ye to know that yer kindness has not gone unnoticed,” she said softly.
His gaze glinted. “My kindness? ”
“Aye … ye have acted honorably. I don’t know how I shall ever repay ye.”
Did she imagine it or did his shoulders stiffen?
A moment later, he cut his gaze away.
“I couldn’t let ye stay on in Oban … alone,” he said, his manner a little stiff now.
Davina wondered what was wrong.
“But ye would have, had I insisted?”
He glanced her way again, his gaze narrowing.
He then raised his tankard to his lips and took another gulp before replying, “No … I’d have remained with ye.”
It was Davina’s turn to tense now, her eyes snapping wide.
“Ye would?”
His attention didn’t waver from hers.
“Aye, I’d have found work there and ensured ye were taken care of.”
Her heart jolted against her breastbone.
“But why?”
“Ye are a gently bred woman, Davina … only a heartless turd would leave ye alone in a rough port. There are plenty of unscrupulous sorts who’d prey upon a lady.”
He took another sip from his tankard, although his attention remained upon her face.
Davina started to sweat.
“Ye’d do that for me?” she asked after a weighty pause.
He held her gaze. Silence swelled between them, tension rippling across the table.
“Aye,” Mackay replied eventually.
“I would.”
Mackay’s gaze smoldered as their stare drew out.
Davina’s breathing caught.
If she’d been made of wax, she’d have melted under that look.
And just like earlier, need slammed into her, making her tremble.
Hades, she had to distance herself from this man before she threw herself at him.
Clearing her throat, Davina pushed herself away from the table and rose to her feet.
“I should go,” she announced.
Turning, she moved toward the door, yet she was just two feet from it when Lennox’s hand closed around her arm, halting her.
Breathing hard, as though she’d just raced up the stairs rather than crossed the chamber, Davina froze to the spot.
She didn’t turn to him, didn’t glance his way.
Instead, she stood there, rigid, her heart pounding.
He stepped closer to her, and the heat of his body caressed her back, even though they weren’t touching.
“Ye see, I’m not as honorable as ye think, Davina,” he whispered hoarsely, his breath feathering across her ear and neck.
“A decent man wouldn’t entertain impure thoughts about ye. He wouldn’t imagine peeling off that pretty kirtle of yers … but I do. I burn to do all manner of wicked things to ye.”
Davina stifled a gasp.
Lord, she should be outraged by such an admission.
She should tell him that he was the basest of knaves, rip her arm from his hold, and storm from the chamber.
But she wasn’t outraged.
Quite the opposite.
Indeed, her knees started to shake, desperate hunger twisting low in her belly.
Long moments passed, and then, slowly, she turned to him.
Lennox released her, yet he didn’t move away.
Indeed, he was standing so close that she could smell the hint of rosemary and cedar from the soap he’d used to bathe, so close that she was staring straight into the hollow of his throat above his loosely laced léine.
His pulse fluttered there.
Exhaling, she raised a hand and placed it upon his chest. The léine he wore was made of thin linen, and she could feel the heat of his skin like a brand against her palm.
Blood roaring in her ears, she then lifted her chin, letting their gazes fuse.
And it was as powerful as before.
This close, he drew her in, made everything else disappear.
She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a windswept cliff, and all she had to do was lean forward, and she would topple off into a wild, churning sea.
It was as if her life were about to end and begin at the same time.
It was dangerous yet thrilling.
She swallowed, wetting her suddenly parched lips with the tip of her tongue.
And then, without letting herself think about what she was doing, she went up on tiptoe and brushed her mouth against his.
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