All blissfully married couples around the table nodded. That was, allexceptfor his big brother.
Dallin tilted his head to one side. “Since when did you begin talking to yourself, little brother?”
Arran froze. And then burst out laughing.
He stood and marched for the exit.
Cassia’s worried voice carried after him. “You are of course going to the lady?”
Arran didn’t even pause to look back. “Aye.” The relieved sighs lasted only as long as his next announcement. “But first, I have a matter of importance to see to.”
With his family’s cries of consternation following, Arran left and prepared for what turned out to be the only battle to matter in his life—the one for Lucy’s heart.
Chapter 19
Lucy’s father always promised someone would walk through the old wood door of The Spotted Elk, and when the mon did, Da swore, Lucy’s life would never be the same.
This evening proved to be a Yuletide miracle. For someone did come through the doors of her struggling establishment…a whole host of someones throughout the dayandnight. Patrons of old, villagers who’d come regularly to drink ale and commiserate on the harvest season with their neighbors. The local smithy. Rovers.
With the taproom filled, Lucy moved from table to table nonstop.
It was as if everyone collectively found out at once and rushed to make sure The Spotted Elk, and Lucy, were doing all right.
As if she ever could be again.
How could one after being ravaged with words that’d landed worse than any blows? The bustling crowd helped. With patrons in every corner, and different voices blurred into one, and minutes rolled together.
“…You have five minutes of my time…and these are the last minutes you’ll ever have with me. Is that clear…?”
A slow quaking started in her body.
Do not think of him…do not think of your final exchange…
Her eyes burned and she blinked furiously.
“…it is unfortunate you were not forthright in the kitchens last night, Miss LeBeau. If I’d in fact known Campbell had no claim to you, I would have satisfied both our itches…”
Here she’d believed it impossible to shed another tear.
Mr. Tanners called over to Lucy from the opposite end of the counter, snapping her out of her misery.
“Word got out, Lucy, the inn has been having a difficult time and we said we had to rectify that, lass.”
Lucy didn’t even break her pour for a patron who held a hand up, signifying more. “Da would be pleased,” she said, making herself smile, while her heart was breaking. She smiled for the supportive townsfolk and for her da’s memory. He’d be tickled at the men he’d respected and called friends returning to give business to The Spotted Elk.
Bearded Angus, another lifelong patron, thumped his mug from the same table he’d held for as long as she’d been alive. “Wouldn’t be pleased that ye dinnae tell us, lass!” He inclined his head and his empty drink.
Lucy hastened over, her striped skirt and apron snapping as she flew around to see to their guests.
“Nay, he wouldn’t,” she agreed, pouring the old Scot another drink. “He’d be even less pleased knowing his daughter had to go around begging for business.” She pinched his cheek to soften the chastisement. “Pity isn’t for the Scots.”
The big, bald-headed Angus grunted. “Aye, it isn’t. But Scots…” His already booming voice soared above the tavern. “We take care of our own.”
There came a hearty round of “hear-hears” from a warm crowd made jovial by a night of steady spirits.
But no one was really there for Lucy. Not really. Oh, she wasn’t looking to be any man’s arm ornament, but a partner?
Aye, she’d have traded an arm to have a good, honorable, loving man at her side. There could have never been a future between her and Captain Arran McQuoid. They were from different walks of earth. But deep inside, she’d secretly dreamed he could love a woman like her.
