Page 2 of Trapped By the Exiled Bastard

The barman raised an eyebrow, then let out a soft scoff. The two of them haggled a little over the price, then Keir dropped some coins on the bar. They were quickly scooped up and replaced by a bowl of thick stew, a hunk of bread and a mug of ale.

“I didnae pay for ale,” Keir said.

“Ye need it, son. Drink up,” the barman said.

Keir narrowed his eyes, wondering whether the owner was trying to swindle him out of more coin, but eventually his thirst overcame his suspicion. He ate and drank right there at the bar, then accepted the key that the barkeep offered and headed toward the stairs. Every step he took across the room stole the breath from his lungs as his injury protested his movements. The meal soured in his stomach by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs.

He was just a few steps up when he heard a woman’s voice rise in shrill panic over the hubbub of the gathered patrons.

“Leave me alone!”

He couldn’t help but turn and look, his eyes scanning over the crowd from his slightly elevated position on the stairs.

At the other end of the room, a pretty woman with generous curves and golden blonde hair stood cornered by two men. She was on the shorter side, and as she shrank away from the men, it reminded Keir strongly of when he’d seen a pack of snarling hunting dogs surrounding a little yellow rabbit in the woods. He’d only been a lad, but he was already used to blood and death from the destruction of his clan, and he took his turn on the hunt just like the rest of his brothers. But something about that rabbit, already injured and with no way of fighting back, caught his attention. Theon had tried to pull him away, but Keir had darted across the forest floor and chased the dogs away, allowing the long-eared creature to hop away to freedom. The other Blades had gently teased him about it for years, and Keir himself had no idea why he’d intervened even now, years later, but the image was strong in his mind as he watched this girl back away from the men closing in on her.

The rest of the sound in the tavern seemed to dim and Keir could hear the men and the woman as clearly as if he stood next to them.

“Come on, lassie. We just want a wee bit of fun. We’ll even let ye choose who goes first,” one of them urged.

She protested again, which only made them laugh and move closer.

Keir let out a frustrated, reluctant sigh and stormed down the stairs, pushing through the crowd and ignoring the pain that was lancing through him with every step. How was it that nobody else was intervening? How was it that he had to get involved? He was still grumbling to himself when he burst out into the little corner in which the men had the woman trapped.

“Oi. Bampots. Can ye nae find a lassie who’s actually interested?” he demanded loudly.

Both men stopped and whirled to face him, as did several of the other tavern patrons. The woman’s eyes were on him too, her brown eyes wide and her full lips parted with surprise. One of the men stepped forward toward Keir and said, “I’m sure ye werenae talkin’ tae me, wee man. Turn around and mind yer business.”

“’Tis me business when two cockless arseholes decide tae take out their frustrations on an innocent woman,” Keir retorted. “Leave.”

The man blinked, then looked at his friends. The three of them moved shoulder to shoulder, obviously trying to be intimidating, then the first man drew a knife. “Want tae try again, lad?” he asked threateningly.

Keir snorted and drew his sword from its sheath. It hadn’t yet been cleaned since the battle, and flecks of dried blood decorated the otherwise shining shield. A few people gasped in alarm. “I said leave,” he said again quietly.

“Fine, keep the whore,” one of the other men snarled, though he couldn’t hide the shake in his voice. The three men hurried off, disappearing into the crowd.

Keir waited until they were fully gone, then sheathed the sword once more. He let out a sigh and turned to face the woman.

She was still staring at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she let out panicked breaths, and despite himself Keir could not help but admire the sight of her. She was beautiful, from her slightly-curled blonde hair to the light freckles that dusted her nose and the way her dress flowed over her body. In another life, he might have asked her to drink with him, or perhaps offered to take her on a walk. But the Keir who lived that life had died a long time ago, the day the Camerons and the so-called alliance had slain his family, and the one who was left didn’t have time to dream of bonny women and gentle smiles.

“Are ye all right?” he asked gruffly. “Have ye nae a husband with ye? A father or brother? It’s nae safe for a woman like ye tae be in a place like this alone so late at night.”

She continued to stare at him, gaping as though he was a ghost here to haunt her rather than a man who had just saved her.

Keir grunted. “I’m goin’ tae me room. See that ye get home safe, lass. Ask someone tae escort ye.”

“Ye…” she stammered.

“Please. I dinnae need thanks. Just go home,” Keir insisted. He turned, ready to go back to his room.

But the woman’s voice rang out clearly after him, shattering the warmth and safety of the place entirely.

“Ye’re the traitor’s bastard!”

Just like that, Keir was plunged back into hell.

1

Elin Kerr twirled a strand of her blonde hair around her finger over and over again.