Not too long later, after a good number of further bumps, bounces, and hare-spottings, the carriage finally rolled to a stop in the inn’s small courtyard. The two-storeyed, stone-built inn was long, thick-walled, and whitewashed, with a slate roof and small leaded windows. Smoke rose from two chimneys, one at each end of the inn, and flickering light shone through the windowpanes, adding a welcome touch on the cold and windy night.
A lantern hung over the door, making it easy to read the inn’s sign with its name, theOne-Eyed-Hare,in gold letters above a large brown hare on a green background.
Naturally, the creature was depicted with only one eye.
At least, Melissa thought so.
Despite the lamp’s illumination, it was hard to tell with much of the courtyard in shadow.
She was able to read the claim that the inn was established in the fourteenth century. But then her attention was snagged by the many hares darting about on the grass beyond the edges of the courtyard.
There were more than she could count and the longer she looked, the more she saw.
“Mercy, you weren’t exaggerating.” She hurried to join Lucian who was just reaching to open the inn door. “I’ve never seen so many rabbits in my life.”
“Hares,” he reminded her. “There are vast differences. Just as” – he smiled – “you’ll soon see a very different world from the one you left behind in England.”
“I already do.” She smiled up at him as he escorted her over the threshold and into the One-Eyed Hare’s public room. “And I am most enchanted.”
She was.
Stepping into the One-Eyed Hare brought the same waft of smoke-hazed air as entering an English taproom, but the scent of peat struck her as much more noticeable here. She also found it earthier and sweeter, more rich.
The cooking smells were also similar, and she noted a strong hint of ale, but laced with whisky.
What she didn’t catch was masculine sweat and she figured that was because of the colder air here, so much farther north. A rush of it had swept into the taproom with them, and she saw that some of the windows were open, allowing the brisk clean air to circulate.
Was it her imagination that she detected a hint of heather and icy, clean Scottish water, too?
She had spotted the glint of more than one rushing stream criss-crossing the moorland surrounding the inn.
Perhaps the streams were the reason for such freshness?
She didn’t know, but she liked the One-Eyed Hare and wished they’d stay here more than one night.
As if he’d peered into her mind – no, her heart – Lucian drew her aside before they went any deeper into the public room. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear…
“If we’re lucky, Dod Swanney, the innkeeper, will have his best room available,” he said, gently nipping her ear before he straightened. “I’ve ne’er slept there, but have seen it. He saves it for special occasions.”
Melissa looked at him, having heard only one thing.
“A room?”she asked, her heart thumping.
He’d arranged for two at the other inns they’d stopped at on the way north. Once, he’d even slept in the stable when the only available sleeping space for her was a shared room with four other women. Necessity had even seen the ladies – strangers, all – sleeping in the same bed.
“Aye, one room,” he said, taking her doubt. “Dod’s famous Scottish Night bedchamber.”
Rather than say more, he just smiled and took her elbow, leading her away from the entry and the cold air blowing through a half-opened window there.
Melissa glanced about as they moved through the candlelit room, passing crowded tables, but also arched entrances to nooks and crannies likewise filled with travelers and patrons. Unlike the public room’s whitewashed walls, these smaller areas were crafted of dark, glowing wood. The inn’s flagstone floor was well-swept and the coziness was increased by the dried bundles of golden gorse that hung from the taproom ceiling’s age-blackened beams.
Best of all were the two enormous stone fireplaces at either end of the remarkably long and well-polished bar.
And it was to one of those hearths that Lucian was leading her, for an empty table stood there. Surprisingly, it was already set for two with white linen, gleaming pewter plates and cutlery, and even a small cream-colored jug filled with heather.
“Heather on the table?” Melissa smiled at Lucian as he drew out her chair. “Now I know I’m in Scotland.”
“So you are, lass.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “And the best is yet to come.”
