Page 1 of Kilty By Association
Prologue
The tavern smelledof piss and ale, and Craig Oliphant couldn’t decide which was worse.
Normally, he was quite fond of ale, but this stuff all tasted of piss. But on the other hand, the piss smelled of ale, so that likely evened things out. Did the tavern keeper do it on purpose? To confuse drunken customers?
Ye’re doing it again, getting distracted by stupid shite.
Aye, well, he was good at that.
Scowling, Craig shifted so that one of his elbows was atop the sticky table and his back rested against the wall behind him. He cupped a flagon in his hand and made a show of drinking from it, although it took effort to keep his nose from wrinkling.
If he had to wait much longer, he was going to finish the damned thing and have to order another, andthenhe’d have to piss and risk missing his quarry.
Dinnae fash over stupid things.Drummond said that to him all the time.
And Drum was counting on him tonight.
‘Twas said that Barthold the Bald favored this tavern, and Craig was determined to meet the bandit.
He’d done everything right:
Spread enough coin, along with the rumor he was looking for a new band of cutthroats to join.
Picked a few fights in public places with the toughest of Scone’s mercenaries.
Even left his sword back in his rooms tonight so Barthold would focus on his height and breadth and hopefully see the advantages of hiring Craig.
“Ye’ll have to pretend to be stupid, lad,” Drum had instructed when they’d brainstormed this trap. “Barthold recognized me the last time he slipped through my net, so it has to be ye. To get him to trust ye, he cannae be suspicious ye’re aught more than a bunch of muscles.”
Aye, well…Craig was good at being stupid.
Back home, back before he’d become a King’s Hunter and settled into life here, making Scotland a safer place, the Oliphants had teased him for his size and lack of brains. It wasn’t his fault he’d been born twice the size of anyone else!
But tonight, it would be useful.
Three months of planning, and tonight was the night he’d finally meet with Barthold and set the trap to catch the wicked villain!
When the bastarddidappear, all Craig had to do was entice him to attack a certain caravan at a certain point—and Drum and the other Hunters would be waiting.
Aye, this would go perfectly…assuming Craig didn’t do anything as dumb as startthinking.
The door to the tavern stood open, the spring air making a vain attempt to clear out the smells of unwashed bodies, piss and—Aye, ye’ve been through this already, remember? Every time a figure stepped inside, Craig studied him from the corner of his eyes, wondering if this was the man he was supposed to meet.
But now, awomanslipped through the opening, and Craig wasn’t the only one in the tavern who eyed her admiringly. She was slender, with a dark cloak drawn around her head and shoulders, hiding her features. She clutched it closed in front of her, but when she moved, he caught a glimpse of silk—the color of the sunset.
Not the gown of a tavern wench, then.
Despite his intent to watch for Barthold, Craig found his attention slipping back to the mystery lady. A smart man like Drummond would likely be able to ignore her, but Craig had never had that problem.
The lady hovered just inside the door to the tavern, clutching her cloak, looking out of place but…determined somehow. Mayhap ‘twas the tilt of her chin – all he could see of her when her gaze swept the room.
She was likely here for an assignation. Away from the prying eyes of her family or husband, wanting to mix with the scum of the city. Or mayhap she was looking for one lowlife in particular?
Craig wasn’t the only one watching her, and at that realization, something unfamiliar shot down his spine. It was a surge of anger, of protectiveness he’d only ever felt around his friends and cousins. Not that someone he cared about was in danger, exactly, but more like the reminder he didn’t want any trouble to come to them.
Why would he react that way about this woman?
Best not think too hard on it, ye might strain something.
