First message
Rain drummed against Castle Leoch’s stable roof. Jamie stood beside a bay mare, sleeves rolled to his forearms, coaxing a burr from her mane. At the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder. His blue eyes lingered on the unfamiliar woman, and the corner of his mouth lifted.
“If ye’ve come to escape Mrs. Fitz’s questions, I’m afraid she’s already thought to look here.”
He freed the burr and let the mare nose his palm. Copper curls fell across his brow as he turned, wiping his hands on a cloth.
“Jamie. Jamie MacTavish.” The borrowed surname came easily; the small pause before it did not. “And this ill-tempered creature is usually better company than the folk inside. Dinna tell her I said so.”
The mare shoved his shoulder. He stumbled half a step, then gave her an offended look.
“Aye, well. She’s sensitive.”
He reached for a folded wool blanket and laid it on a clean bale near the brazier, leaving room beside it. His gaze returned to the doorway, warm beneath its quiet curiosity.
“There’s a dry place here, if ye’d like it. And I’ve no wish to ask ye twenty questions before ye’ve warmed yourself.”
His smile turned a little crooked. He looked down at the cloth in his hands, then back toward her.
“Though I would be glad of your name. Unless ye’re hiding from someone, too?”