“And if I do not give you the money?”
“I am sure there will be a man or two in that tavern who will gladly supply me with the money I need.”
It was apparent she was going whether or not there were any objections. Strode leapt from the carriage and emitted a piercing whistle to several mounted soldiers to the rear of the carriage. Then he glared at the young woman he had known since birth.
“You shall go nowhere without escort, Lady Alixandrea,” he said sternly. “Your uncle would have my hide if anything happened to you so close to your destination.”
The Lady Alixandrea Terrington St. Ave lifted a well-shaped eyebrow at him. “God forbid.”
It was a sarcastic remark, softly uttered. The mounted soldiers arrived and the coachman gave them instructions to stick close to the lady while she found rest at the inn. The men raised their eyebrows at the thought of the lady in a rough, untamed tavern, but they all knew that once Lady Alixandrea set her mind to something, there was no dissuading her. They had no choice but to follow or be left behind.
Gathering her skirt, Alixandrea set forth across the dusty road towards the timber and mortar tavern. Above her, the sky was unnaturally blue in the unseasonably dry weather and she thought perhaps that may have something to do with her unsettled stomach. Heat and travel could be an uncomfortable situation. Behind her, the maid shuffled like an old woman, kicking up more dust onto her new garment.
“Jezebel, pick up your feet,” she admonished sternly. “And when we enter, I will do the talking, is that clear?”
The dark-eyed, dark-haired maid nodded. “Do ye want a bath, too?”
“A bath? In this place?” Alixandrea looked up at the hand-hewn sign that now hung above their heads.Head O’Bucket. “Would you look at the name of this establishment? I think I shall faint.”
“Steady, m’lady.”
“Steady it is.”
The words were lightly spoken, lightly given. Alixandrea St. Ave was the last woman on the earth to give in to fits of fainting. She pushed the door open, giving it a good shove as it stuck on the hinges.
But her bravery was instantly tempered by the stench that immediately struck her; it was like walking into a garderobe. It was also quite dark, in stark contrast to the bright sunlight outside, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Between the smell and the darkness, she was coming to reconsider her desire to visit this abysmal place. But one of the soldiers escorting her pushed the door open wider, thinking it was jammed, and she was forced to move forward.
There was one great room and little more. And it was surprisingly full. Alixandrea and her maid, followed by the soldiers, looked for the least obtrusive place to sit and quickly located a table near the door that was suitable. She noticed thatall eyes in the place had somehow found her in the darkness. She wondered what they were thinking and how shortly her life would be in danger. In spite of what she had told her maid, she sent the woman in search of the barkeep in a hurry. She wanted to obtain her refreshment and get out.
As she sat and waited, with her soldiers close behind for protection, a great collective mass of appreciation was forming in that stuffy little tavern. When the door had opened and she stood there, illuminated by the bright sunlight, there were a few in the room that swore Heaven itself had opened up the door and an angel now stood in their midst.
Clad in a ruby-colored cloak with her glorious bronze-colored curls spilling over one shoulder, the angel in the doorway could only be described as magnificent. Her oval-shaped face was sweet and her eyes were the most amazing color of bronze, just like her hair; somewhere between brown and gold that flowed like sultry molten liquid. When she moved, she swished, as an angel’s wings would have. And when she sat, it was with the aura of a queen.
There wasn’t one man or woman in that room that wasn’t instantly enchanted with her. She was obviously well-born, well-bred, and just this side of paradise. It wasn’t long before someone approached the table.
“My lady,” a soft, deep voice addressed her. “May I buy your meal for you?”
Alixandrea looked up into the face of a young man, perhaps a little older than her, with very short, golden-red hair. He had blue eyes and a square-jaw. It was a handsome appearance. And he was a big lad, which intimidated her a bit, but he seemed mannered.
“I am not eating, good sir,” she said, avoiding eye contact with him. “I have merely come in to rest before continuing on my journey.”
“Then allow me to provide you with your refreshment.”
Before she could protest, he was whistling to the barkeep and motioning to the table. Alixandrea shook her head.
“No, good sir, I implore you,” she said, more forcefully. “It is my wish to enjoy my rest without company, if you don’t mind.”
He looked at her as if he did not comprehend a word she was saying. Was it possible that there was a woman who did not want his company? His lips broke out in an easy smile.
“It is only because you do not know me,” he said confidently. “I am Sir Luke Wellesbourne of Wellesbourne Castle. My father is lord over this fiefdom.”
She looked at him intently. It was a struggle not to give away the surprise she felt. “Wellesbourne?”
He sat heavily next to her, taking the big earthenware cup from the barkeep as the man drew near the table.
“Aye,” he jabbed his finger towards the smoking, sloppy hearth. “And that is my unsociable brother over there, brooding like a bear.”
Her bronze eyes drifted in the direction he was pointing, noticing an enormous man sitting by himself, hunched over a cup. He was partially hidden in the shadows, enough so that she could not get a good look at him. Alixandrea’s eyes lingered on the silent, hulking figure, a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she could not begin to describe. All she knew was that it disturbed her greatly.
