She shuddered, scarcely able to breathe. How could she hurt a man, even if he did barge into her home? She ought to at least try to ask some questions first. After all, the fellow had been wounded…but how had he sustained his injuries? What happened? Why?

What if she went inside and he tried to ravish her?

Divana’s stomach turned over as she ran her fingers across her mouth.

That is me home he marched into like an overbearing brute. I ought not allow it. She pounded her shovel on the ground. I shan’t be cast from me own hearth!

Divana inhaled deeply, summoned her courage, and marched through the doorway.

“Saint Columba’s bones!”

The scoundrel had removed his doublet and shirt and crouched over the peat fire with his hands extended. His bare back was riddled with white scars, and a vicious wound on his shoulder bled. When he turned, it wasn’t the mat of blond curls on his chest that drew her eye first. The man’s well-muscled stomach had been sliced open from flank to flank. Och, he’d been through the wars for certain.

Divana clenched her shovel tightly. “Do not come near me.”

His complexion green, he rubbed his trembling hands. “I need a blanket.”

“Ah…” What should she do? Help him? Blast it, of course she should. Never in her life ought she turn her back on a soul in need. Not like her kin had done to her. Divana’s gaze shot to her pallet and the only blanket that wasn’t threadbare. “Very well, but ye cannot stay. This is me home.”

Saying nothing, he swayed and dropped to his haunches. Is he sick with the fever?

“Did ye not hear me?” she asked, her fingers twisting over the worn wooden shaft.

“I’ll pay…,” he mumbled, his head lolling.

A man of means? Not that money would be of any use here. She tilted her chin upward and narrowed her eyes. “If ye have coin, then why have ye washed up on the beach like a lump of driftwood?”

“Pirates attacked…” A lock of his tangled hair fell over an eye. “Please. The blanket.”

“Pirates?” That single word made a shiver course across her skin. Divana had heard tell about pirates pillaging and plundering the high seas. They were ruthless and savage. They were murderers.

’Tis a wonder he’s alive.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Divana took the coveted plaid from her pallet and held it out. “Use this, but as soon as ye’ve dried, ye must leave me be—”

As she handed him the blanket, he slumped to the dirt floor, his eyes closed. Worse, she spotted yet another wound—big, ugly, and bloody, looking as if a sea monster had tried to take a bite out of his thigh.

Puckered skin in the shape of an arc riddled his flesh like minced meat. Something shiny and white gleamed from one of the fissures. Leaning, Divana looked closer, then plucked away a tooth and held it up. Good Lord, this man hadn’t just been set upon by pirates, he’d suffered a shark attack.