“Take the…” She looked at Christian. “What are these bread things called again?”
“Trenchers.”
“Right.” Ashley called out to a serving wench passing by, “Take the trenchers away so I may sing, but bring us another pitcher of ale.”
“Aye, mistress.” The serving wench had the nerve to wink at Christian as she passed by.
Ashley scowled at him. “She better back off.” Her hiccups were finally going away. It was so hot in here. She poured another cup of ale and climbed up on the table, planting her feet. Still no one paid her any attention. Fine. She stomped on the wood with all her weight. That got their attention. It looked like a motley assortment of peasants, murderers, soldiers, and what she guessed were nobles. And they were all staring at her.
Full of liquid courage, she found a few people in the crowd and met their eyes, putting on her most charming smile. When she was at work, she pretended she was someone else. Not Ashley the studious girl, but her alter ego, Amanda. Amanda was brave and didn’t take crap from anyone. She didn’t mind Halloween while Ashley hated the holiday with a passion. She spoke her mind, was aggressive and decisive, and didn’t let anyone get in her way. Amanda knew how to put Mitch down, and Amanda was going to sing so Ashley could have a hot bath and a warm bed tonight.
Ashley held up her cup, looked down at Christian, and in her voice meant to project to the farthest end of a conference room said, “let’s have a song or two shall we, boys?”
There was cheering and whistling as she tapped her foot. All the old-school drinking songs she remembered from dive bars in college ran through her head. Best to start with the song about whiskey. Tapping her foot helped keep the rhythm as the song played in her head. With a deep breath, she opened her mouth and belted out the song.
Halfway through, the crowd really got into it, banging on the tables and stamping their feet. Next she went with the song about the guy in a bar who was on the run. Then the Sally song, and of course a tune by the Dropkick Murphys. That one really got them going, just like she thought it might.
Ashley held out her cup for a refill, but Christian shook his head, turning the pitcher upside down. No, no, no, she needed herliquid courage to get through the rest of this. Catching the serving wench’s eye, she picked up the pitcher and waved it around in the air over her head. The woman hurried over, bringing a fresh pitcher, and Ashley went with that song by George Jones about memories.
Unused to singing so much, her throat felt scratchy, and she decided it was time to wind down before the crowd got too out of control. So she sang a song by Hem, then followed it with John Lee Hooker. That had a couple of the men wiping their eyes. For the grand finale, she belted out that song by Thin Lizzy.
The hysterical thing about all this? During her three years of college, Ashley had never spent time in a bar. Always busy studying with her crazy course load, there wasn’t time, not with a double major and graduating a year early. Plus, legally she was too young to drink—though she had a fake ID like everyone else, she’d never used hers. But her apartment was across the street from a bar, and she’d had ample opportunity not only to hear the songs they played but to observe people at their worst.
The last notes faded away and she climbed down from the table to shouts and cheers from the crowd. They called for more, but she shook her head, the motion making the room spin.
She bowed and almost fell over, would have if a strong arm hadn’t caught her around the waist, pulling her back against a wall. A wall that smelled like winter and leather and horses. She tilted her head back to see cerulean eyes gazing at her, the corner of his mouth pulled up as if by a string.
“You’re full of surprises, Ashley Bennett.”
His two eyes turned to four. She blinked and shook her head to clear her vision. Totally bad idea. Everything spun, the voices too loud, the heat unbearable. She was way over her limit. All of a sudden all the ale caught up to her. She turned to face Christian, clutching his tunic. “I need air.”
The door kept moving. Frustrated, she stumbled, only to be swept up in Christian’s arms to the cheers of the crowd.
“Do you always carry women around?”
He grinned. “Only you.”
As they passed the innkeeper, he nodded to them. “Fine singing. Such wonderful songs. You shall have your room. My wife is making it ready.”
Ashley was too smashed to answer, her eyes heavy. From far, far away she heard Christian thank the man. Once they were outside, the cold night air helped, and she opened her eyes. The revolt started in her stomach and traveled up to her throat.
“Please, put me down. I don’t feel so well.”
CHAPTER 12
Christian had never heardsuch songs before. To see Ashley standing on the table before the entire inn, singing, had surprised him, as had the copious amount of ale she consumed.
He put her down, as she bade, but kept a hand on her arm as she swayed in the wind, bleary-eyed and red in the face. Using his sleeve, he wiped the sweat from her brow.
“It’s so hot in there. I needed fresh air.”
The water from the well was cold. He sniffed; it smelled sweet, so he fetched them a cup.
“Drink. You’ll feel better.”
Water ran down the side of her mouth as she drained the cup.
“More.”
