Chapter Two

“Fiona!”

The redheaded vixen turned at the bar to see Jerud swagger in the door, with his scowling face gleaming angrily.

“My love, what’s happened to you?” she asked as she saw a bloody cut on his chin.

“Nothing you need to worry over, Fi,” he said. “Get me some ale.”

“But you look horrible! You’ve been fighting again, haven’t you?”

“Not your worry, Fiona,” he answered darkly. He gave her a swift smack on the behind and sent her on her way.

Fiona returned with a tankard of the tavern’s best brew, then sat down across from her fiancee, trying to discern what manner of predicament he was in. Too hot-headed for his own good, Jerud would be in some kind of scrape nearly every week.

She watched him down a full mug of the ale and wipe his face on his sleeve. She suspected that he’d already been drinking, the way his breath smelled so foul and his expression hardly had the tender softness she was used to seeing, especially when he was speaking to her.

“So you won’t tell me your woes?” she asked, very cautiously.

“I said, it’s not your worry.”

The tavern door opened and one of Jerud’s burly friends, Kevin Stroud, strode inside. Spying Jerud, he moved toward their table. “He’ll fight you, brother,” Kevin announced.

“And I’ll beat him to a bloody pulp,” Jerud said, with a grimace that made Fiona shiver.

“Please, Jerud, don’t go fighting again?” she pleaded with him.

His eyes softened, but for only an instant. “This doesn’t concern you, you keep to yourself.”

“Jerud you’re not thinking clearly,” she tried again.

“Get on,” he scowled as he turned back to Kevin. “We can settle this tonight,” he said. “You tell him. If he has the guts!” Jerud was shouting as his friend made a hasty purposeful retreat.

Fiona graced her fiancee with a pair of sad green eyes, afraid to speak with anything but her facial expression.

“Don’t say it woman,” he told her.

“You don’t have to be angry with me, Jerud,” Fiona shot back indignantly. “I’m only thinking about you.”

He eyed her carefully, letting his gaze go beyond the surface level, to the more pleasing aspect of his relationship with the sensuous woman. He inspected her bosom, that was pressed against the wooden table, the generous cleavage appearing to beckon