Dismounting, Lucas gave the care of Eachann over to a bone-thin youth who quickly appeared at his side. The lad stared at him with wide blue eyes, looking much as if he had just seen a ghost, and that look made Lucas uneasy. Subtly he checked to make certain that his cowl still covered the hair he had been unable to cut. Although he had told himself he would need the cowl up at all times to shadow his far too recognizable face, Lucas knew it was vanity that had made him reluctant to cut off his long black hair and his warrior braids. Deciding the boy might just be a little simple, Lucas collected his saddle-packs, then gave the lad a coin before making his way into the inn.
After taking only two steps into the building, Lucas felt the chill of fear speed down his spine and stopped to look around. This was where he had been captured, dragged away to be savagely beaten and then left for dead. Despite the nightmares he still suffered on occasion he had thought he had conquered the unreasonable fear his beating had left him with.
Annoyance over such a weakness helped him quell that fear. Standing straighter he made his way to a table set in a shadowy corner at the back of the room. He had barely sat down when a buxom fair-haired maid hurried over to greet him. If he recalled right, her name was Annie.
“Father,” she began.
“Nay, my child. I am nay tonsured yet,” Lucas said, hoping such a tale would help explain away any mistakes he might make. “I am on pilgrimage ere I return to the monastery and take my final vows.”
“Oh.” Annie sighed. “I was hoping ye were looking for a place to serve God’s will.” She briefly glared at the men drinking ale near the large fireplace. “We could certainly use a holy mon here. Dunlochan has become steeped in sin and evil.”
“I will be certain to tell my brothers of your need when I return to them, child.”
“Thank ye, Father. Ah, I mean, sir. How can I serve ye?”
“Food, ale, and a bed for the night, lass.”
In but moments Lucas was enjoying a rich ale, a hearty mutton stew, and thick warm bread. The good food served by the inn was one reason he had lingered in Dunlochan long enough to meet Katerina. His stomach had certainly led him astray that day, he thought sourly. In truth, his stomach may have kept him at Dunlochan long enough to meet Katerina, but it was another heedless part of him that had truly led him astray. One look at her lithe body, her long thick hair the color of sweet clover honey, and her wide deep blue eyes and all his wits had sunk right down into his groin. He had thought he had met his mate and all he had found was betrayal and pain.
Lucas cursed silently. The woman would not get out of his life, out of his mind, or out of his heart. That would not stop him from getting his revenge on her, however. He was not quite sure how he would accomplish that yet, but he would. First the men who had tried to kill him and then the woman who had given the order.
Another casualty of that dark night was his trust in people, in his ability to judge them as friend or foe. Lucas had believed Katerina was his mate, the woman he had been born to be with. Instead she had nearly been his death. It was hard to trust his own judgment after such a near-fatal error and an ability to discern whom to trust was important to a warrior. How could he ever be a good laird to the people of Donncoill if he could not even tell friend from foe?
He sipped his ale and studied the men near the fireplace. Lucas was sure that at least one of them had been there that night, but the shadows cast by the fire made it difficult to see the man clearly. One of the things he recalled clearly was that few of the men had been fair as most of the Haldanes were. It had puzzled him that Katerina would hire mercenaries, but, perhaps, her own people would never have obeyed such an order from her. If those men were no more than hired swords it would make the killing of them easier for few would call out for vengeance when they died.
Six men suddenly entered the inn and Lucas stiffened. No shadows hid their faces and he recognized each one. It was hard to control the urge to immediately draw his sword and set after them. He shuddered faintly, the memory of the beating flaring crisp and clear in his mind and body. Lucas rubbed his left leg, the ache of shattered bones sharpened by those dark memories. His right hand throbbed as if it recalled each and every slam of a boot on it. The scar that now ran raggedly over his right cheek itched and Lucas could almost feel the pain of the knife’s blade cutting through the flesh there.
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Lucas knew he needed to push those memories aside if he was to think clearly. The revenge he hungered for could not be accomplished if he acted too quickly or if he gave in to the fierce urge to immediately draw his sword and attack these men. When he realized part of his ability to hold back was because he did not think he could defeat the six men with a direct attack, he silently cursed again. His confidence in his newly regained battle skills was obviously not as strong as he had thought it was.
“Annie!” bellowed one of the men as he and his companions sat down. “Get your arse o’er here and pour us some ale, wench!”
There was an obvious caution in Annie’s steps as she approached the men with tankards and a ewer of ale. “Hush, Ranald,” she said. “I saw ye come in and was ready. There is nay need to bellow so.”
Lucas watched as the young woman did her best to pour each man a tankard of ale even as she tried to avoid their grasping hands. Unlike many another lass who worked in such a place, Annie was no whore easily gained by a coin or two, but the men treated her as if she was. By the time she was able to get away from their table, she was flushed with anger and her eyes were shining with tears of shame. Lucas had to take a deep drink of the strong ale to quell the urge to leap to her defense. He gave her a small smile when she paused by his table to refill his tankard and wondered why that made her eyes narrow and cause a frown to tighten her full mouth.
“Have ye been here before, sir?” she asked as she suddenly sat down across the scarred table from him.
“Nay, why should ye think so, child?” he asked.
“There was something about your smile,” she said then shrugged. “’Twas familiar.”
Lucas had no idea how a smile could be familiar but told himself to remember to be more cautious about doing so again. “Mayhap ye just see too few, aye?”
“Certainly too few that show me such fine, white teeth.”
“A blessing I got from my family and God. That and cleaning them regularly.”
She nodded. “The Lady Katerina taught me the value of cleaning my teeth.”
“A good and Godly woman is she?”
“She was, aye.”
“Was?”
“Aye, she died last spring, poor wee lass.” She glared at the men who had treated her so badly. “They and the ladies at the keep say my lady killed herself, but I dinnae believe it. She would ne’er have done such a thing. Aye, and the lovely mon who was courting her disappeared on the verra same day. No one has an answer for where he went.” She suddenly looked straight at Lucas. “That is who your smile reminded me of, I am thinking. A bonnie lad he was. He did make my lady happy, he did.”
Lucas was too shocked to do more than nod. He could not even think of something to say to turn aside the dangerous comparison Annie had just made. Katerina was dead. The news hit him like