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voices down.
    "Dugan," the innkeeper slapped at the large man's chest. "Ave'nt seen you here abouts in a while, finding yerself in need of a wench," the robust man laughed. He abruptly stopped and coughed and looked to the woman at the table. "I beg your pardon, Cailyn lass."
    Cailyn . The angel had a name that suited her.
    "Not a problem, I'm used to men's lack of manners," she replied with a tingle of laughter in her voice. "It's a good thing I love your cooking." The woman reached for the jolly man and cupped his jaw. "How fare you uncle?"
    "Well, Lass, well," the man preened at her attention. He called over his shoulder to the serving girl. "Mary, bring stew and fresh bread." He turned back to the duo at the table. "Ye must stay, the weather is about to turn for the worse. I will have rooms prepared."
    Jamie ate his food, which was indeed quite flavorful. He pondered at such a place where women could travel with only a male escort and remain the night at an inn without a handmaid. Surely the Scots gave their women much more liberties than the English.
    Although English-born, his mother was Scottish. While maintaining the rules of the elite, Elsie Westcott managed the household with a strong hand. The fine-looking woman also managed his father quite well, although the old man would never admit it.
    Jamie's attention went back to the duo. Cailyn kept a steady conversation with the man across the table from her. They seemed more like siblings than lovers by their mannerisms, and the male eyed a bar maid when thinking his companion distracted.
    Jamie had gotten both names. If he could find out their clan affiliations, then perhaps they could lead him to Victoria.
    "Pardon," he got the woman's attention. "Are you from these parts?"
    She nodded and looked to her table partner before replying. "Aye, just a day's ride away, why do you ask?"
    "I find myself at a loss in finding land to purchase here, in Scotland. Would you know of where a half-born could find out about such things?"
    Bright cobalt eyes met his before sliding to her companion again. She shrugged, an elegant gesture, and put a piece of bread down before speaking. "McDougall lands are not for sale. I wouldn't know about other clans."
    When she didn't elaborate, he finally spoke again. "Would you know who I could speak to, then? "
    This time the man spoke, his tone less inviting. "Why would an Englishman wish to buy land?"
    "My mother is Scottish and brought to me the love of this country. I wish to settle here," he lied.
    "Interesting." Cailyn pushed damp curls behind her shoulder, fingers sliding across the skin at her neck. The unaware, yet sensuous gesture, brought him to lock eyes on the spot where they'd trailed. "I'd say you should go further south to the lowlands. Lowlanders are much more attuned to the ways of the English. Otherwise, you could find yourself in the middle of a clan clash or two up here."
    "I see," he replied. "Is your clan in battle?"
    The man scowled at him, eyes narrow with mistrust. "Not yet."
    Point taken.
    Jamie went back to his meal, not hurrying, in hopes of learning more from their continued conversation.
    Unfortunately, they rose too soon from the table. The woman headed for the stairs, and the male moved to a table closer to the kitchens.
    Jamie had not found out much in almost two days. His men had not fared any better. The Scots were a mistrustful people when it came to anyone not part of their clan. Made sense, the war so newly ended. Tomorrow he'd ride to the closer of McDougall lands, and begin his search openly.
    He waved the bar maid over and paid for his food. Afterward Jamie made his way up the stairs to his room.
    At the top of the stairway, Cailyn stood with the serving woman he'd seen downstairs earlier. She handed a bundle to the maid. "Please see about getting these dried out." She looked up at Jamie, but did not acknowledge him. "Thank you, Mary."
    The maid started at his presence, her eyes darting between them. "Will