“Good, then.” Teague waved the boy on. “Third landing.”
As the lad climbed the stairs, Teague noticed his shoes. He had never seen such footwear. Black cloth with bright yellow soles and matching yellow stripes up the sides. Even muddy and in the dimly lit stairwell, the colors stood out. Almost glowing, like Calder had described the runes on the lad’s shirt. Which reminded him he wished to witness that as well. “Robbie?”
The lad halted and turned. The marks on his shirt, the strange dots and whirls, were lit as if on fire. Teague’s amazed stare clearly gave him away, because the boy looked down and rubbed his hand across the symbols. “I dinna ken why this looks the way it does. I stole these clothes. But dinna tell anyone, aye?”
“Yer secret is safe, lad.” Teague motioned for the boy to keep climbing. The more he discovered about these two, the more they puzzled him. A huff of amusement escaped him. He loved nothing better than a challenge.
“Here?” Robbie glanced back at him before pushing open the door.
“Go ahead, lad. It opens into the hallway, not a lion’s den.”
“Yeah, well, ye have never seen Mi with a case of the red arse,” he said. “I would rather face a lion.”
Teague laughed. “Fearsome, is she?”
“Ye have no idea, and if ye are wise, ye will do yer best to never find out.”
“I shall bear that in mind.” He led the way to a door farther down the hallway. “This leads to the suite of rooms the two of ye can use as long as ye like. A sitting room, a bathing chamber, and two bedchambers.”
Robbie looked suitably impressed. “I didna realize castles had bathing chambers. I thought ye only washed in bowls or rivers.” Then his eyes flared wider. “I mean…Mi and I never had a bathing chamber before. Just washed in bowls or rivers.”
“Earlier ye said yer Mi loved nothing better than soaking in a hot bath.” He eyed the boy, then tried to ease the youngling’s worries with a wink. “Lying takes a good memory, lad. ’Tis much easier to tell the truth.”
Robbie glanced at the door, then shook his head. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I canna say more. Sorry.”
Teague bent and locked eyes with the worried young sir. He kept his voice low. “I can help. Both yerself and yer mother. If ye will let me.” He waited a moment, letting the words sink in and settle. “There is safety here, Robbie. Ye have my word.”
The boy gave another nervous shake of his head. “I canna,” he whispered again. “Sorry.”
“I understand.” Teague straightened, stepped past him, and opened the door. “Come, lad. Time to face the lioness.”
“Lioness?” Mila repeated.
“Wow! Ye are like that painting, Mi.” Admiration rang in Robbie’s voice. “Out of our favorite history book. Remember the one with the—”
“Robbie!” The comely mud hen found on the roadside had transformed into an even more breathtaking woman. She fixed the lad with a sharp stare as she stormed toward him. “Thank ye for the compliment, but that is enough, ye ken?”
Teague recognized immediate regret registering on the boy’s face. Robbie looked the same as he had every time he accidentally said more than he should. “He is right, mistress. Ye are a fair sight to behold.”
“Thank ye, sir.” She cast an appreciative glance around the large sitting room. “And thank ye as well for allowing us to stay in such lodgings. ’Tis verra kind.” Before he could respond, her focus slid back to the lad, and she pointed at the door leading to the bathing chamber. “The bathwater is still hot enough, I think. If not, there are kettles over the fire. Make good use of it, aye? And dinna forget to use soap and wash yer hair.”
Robbie opened his mouth to argue, then snapped it shut, snorted an irritated huff, and shoved through the door.
Teague expected the lad to slam it and was surprised when he didn’t. At least the boy possessed some sense of survival. “I take it he doesna like baths?”
She shook her head, still glaring at the door. “It is not that he doesna like them. He resents when they take him away from his reading or whatever else he has going on.” Her glare softened to a look of affection. “Robbie is a very single-minded lad. If he is engrossed in a book or working out a difficult equation, he doesna like leaving it unfinished.”
“A difficult equation?”
Her cautiousness returned, shuttering her features like a mask. “Aye. Equations. He is quite good at mathematics, the sciences, and astronomy.”
“As well as Latin.”
“Aye. As well as Latin.”
In other words, the lad was brilliant and more educated than an average bairn of the Highlands.
Teague ambled over to the petite cabinet beneath a tapestry he had procured in the East because he thought a future wife might like it. “Have ye tried the port?” He held up a fancy decanter.
